Monday, June 29, 2015

let them eat cake

Sometimes you create grand plans of eating your wedding cake on your anniversary cruise, but sometimes cruiselines don't let you bring cakes aboard. So you adapt.



19262855210 from Mary Margaret Phillips on Vimeo.

(Matt's itchiness is a long story. Disregard.)

Thursday, June 18, 2015

year one

Three hundred and sixty five days ago, a girl woke up unmarried for the last time. She spent the morning feeling butterflies, which surprised her, because she didn't think she was nervous. But they flew around her belly while she sipped iced coffee. They fluttered while her nails and hair and make-up were done. They did back flips and cartwheels while her dress was zipped up and sash was hooked, and when she danced around the bathroom, the butterflies danced with her. They spun and twirled as she hooked arms with her father and walked out the door. 

Then she saw him. And the butterflies stopped.



People love to tell you how hard the first of marriage is, but when I look back at our first year, I'm overwhelmed with a feeling of quiet peacefulness. Our first year was walks after dinner, belly laughing on a messy bed, sitting on the kitchen table singing hymns. It was going out into the world and, no matter what happened, knowing that you were coming home to your own little haven.

In my mind, this peacefulness comes primarily from knowing that we weren't required to be everything for each other. Knowing that your spouse is looking to an omniscient, all-loving God for fulfillment and meaning takes so much pressure off your daily interactions and lets you truly be free. Freedom to speak your mind, freedom to love with all you've got, and freedom to forgive quickly.

Secondarily, it comes from Matt. Matt Phillips is a rock. If we were climates, Matt would be the sunny Southern California to my unpredictable, ever-changing Georgia weather. He's stable and steady when I'm working myself up into a lather. He holds fast and strong to truth when I'm being tossed about by life. I can completely lose my mind about hypothetical scenarios, but I know that he'll be there, holding my hand and letting me know that everything is going to be ok.



Matthew David, thank you for being my calm in the storm. Thank you for leading me, praying for me, and being the best teammate I could ask for. Here's to grainy selfies and bedtime stories, to weekly spaghetti dinners and spending forever by your side. Happy anniversary, my love.