Reason #978 that my wife is the best:

She lets me set up Star Wars fight scenes on our Christmas tree, and not just on the back where no one can see.

Two Potent Implications of Ephesians 5:22-33 for Husbands

1. A good marriage is a return to the bliss of Eden, a kind of heaven on earth.

2. Like any other kind of heaven, nobody makes it there without somebody getting crucified.

38 Days from the Minefields

This is probably redundant, since everyone who reads this blog also reads Justin Taylor's...

But let me say publicly, as if there was any doubt, that I'm in love with this song.

[Kim, apparently the prerequisite for becoming an adorable elderly couple is dance lessons, so we better get those on the calendar...in 2030. Also, as long as I'm addressing you parenthetically and publicly, you should know that in the course of writing this blog post, I forgot that I had pasta on the stove and left it there way too long. Welcome to the minefield.]

Why I'm Marrying Her

Seven months ago today, with sweaty palms and a determined avoidance of eye contact, I asked Kim Solari if she would ever consider going on a date with me. Four months from today, God willing, we will be married. One of my favorite things about Kim is her willingness to tell me when I'm being an idiot. I want to give you a small window into how this works.

Last week Kim and I had plans to bring to my BFF and his wife, recently home from the hospital after the birth of their third child, a hot meal to give them a break from cooking. I, neither for the first nor last time, was running significantly late. I got out of class late, traffic was worse than I thought it would be, and Portillo's (Did you think I was going to bring something homemade? Who do you think that I am?) didn't have the order ready when I arrived. By the time I picked Kim up to head over to their house, I was angry at everything.

"Why are you upset?" she asked.

"I hate being late," I said. "I wanted to give Bryan and Amy a break from cooking, but now we're bringing dinner late, the food is cold, and they're going to have to start feeding the girls before we get there, so we can't all eat together." I deliberated about whether to say what I was really thinking. I went for it. "Honestly, I just want to be the hero. I want to be everyone's hero all the time. And I can't. And I'm angry about it."

"Honey," she began gently. "You're not supposed to be the hero. That's not how the story goes." Thoughtful pause. "If you were everyone's hero, we'd all be going to hell."

Touché.

"A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in a setting of silver." (Prov 25:11)