When I had my first panic attack, I hadn’t yet experienced puberty, let alone serious mental distress. Sunday School taught me enough about God that I knew how things would play out: I’d pray, get healed, and never deal with it again.
Oh, if only it were that simple.
As I’m writing this I’m picturing your vows starting with something about how years ago you could never picture marrying me. When we started this thing, I was this goofy kid who wasn’t really going anywhere in life. By some miracle and after all I’d put you through, I got you to go out with me.
We could still see the venue in our rearview mirror when I started crying.
It was the happiest day of my life. The weather was beautiful and our vendors were amazing. The Holy Spirit showed up during our ceremony, and our loved ones partied hard during the reception. But before the last of the sparklers even died out, I was an emotional mess.