my co-pilot

Look at these kids, 13 years ago today. You know what they say, time flies when you’re making babies all the time.

In the beginning of our marriage, we were very intentionally in love. We got a license to fly, and we took off. Literally. We met in January, were engaged by May, and married the next January, which you can imagine made my parents super happy (no worries, they’re obsessed with him now). Honestly, we didn’t even know what in the heck we were doing. I’ll admit, learning to fly with Travis was a little scary. But it was hella fun. And honestly, so easy.

Eventually, we got kinda good at flying. We got comfortable, and then we stopped paying attention. We could sail pretty smoothly on auto pilot. I could do my things, he could do his, the kids could run around the plane... but no one was steering. We could be “in love” without being active participants. In hindsight, that’s where it all began. Soon, I began judging his ability to fly. I was criticizing his every move, without even stepping back to look at what a shitty job I was doing as a co-pilot. Our cargo got heavy. Our fuel tank got low. Dangerously low. And then, Satan told me, “Life would be better if you would just fly this plane alone.” 

Praise be to God, I don’t even know how we didn’t bring the whole freakin thing down in flames. It was close though. It really was. There were planes going down around us- planes that I thought were rock solid strong- and I cried for the casualties. During the roughest patch, the only reason I kept flying was simply because I knew that if the plane went down, the people I loved most would be part of the wreckage.

I knew there was really only one way to keep the plane in the air. I had to make the decision to be intentionally in love with my co-pilot again. Even though I didn’t feel like it.

So to start, I made a decision to have faith in his flying skills. I tried to remember the qualities of his that made me trust him to fly this plane in the first place. Eventually I figured out the God’s honest truth- that having two good pilots is what keeps the plane in the air, not the passengers. I love the passengers on our plane more than I love the air I breathe, but I have to love my co-pilot even more. 

Ultimately, it simply came down to having faith- in myself, in him, and in God’s plan for us- that’s how we kept our heads above the clouds during the turbulence.

Maybe most importantly through all this- we got help. A little aviation training never hurt any good pilot. My friends- if you are even a little bit embarrassed about getting help for your marriage, you really just need to get over it. It’s more embarrassing that you would let it go down in flames without a fight. Counseling is no more shameful than getting a flat tire fixed. Gotta have two well inflated wheels before you can take off.

Ok I’ll stop with the aviation puns.

Happy 13th Anniversary to my co-pilot for life. I am so thankful that we didn’t give up.

And after all that, I thought I couldn’t love him more if I tried. But then today he gave me this, and now I’m dead.