Before Disney Got Involved

We don’t talk about marriage the way we used to.

Somewhere along the way, it stopped being a sacred bond and started feeling like a convenience. A milestone. A contract.
Disposable. Optional. Negotiable.

We treat dating like shopping, love like dopamine, and marriage like a limited warranty—use it up, and if it breaks? Trade it in.
No wonder we don’t know what to do when it gets hard.

But real marriage—the kind that lasts, that roots you, that reshapes both people of you at your core—isn’t some relic from the past. It still exists.
It’s just quieter now.
Harder to spot.
You don’t see it much on TikTok.
But I know it’s still real… because I live it.

At the last family reunion, my aunt hugged him first. Then she pulled me aside and said,
“Don’t screw this one up.”

She wasn’t joking.

He’s the one my family looks forward to seeing. The one they ask about. The one they’re maybe a little too fond of.

Honestly? I get it.

He’s kind. He’s funny. He’s well-educated. He’s a chaplain, an officer, and just a solid, all-around good guy.

He's super cute, too. But that's more for me, not them.

He lives with purpose—every day, trying to walk out an Ephesians life. To serve with grace, to lead with humility, to love well.
And Lord help him, he's legally and morally obligated to me.

I am a handful.
I’m mouthy.
Can’t remember shit, find shit, and keep up with shit.
I’m a lousy housekeeper, but I cook and bake like a full-fat Appalachian grandma—
and that’s its own kind of challenge for a man in uniform.

I laughed and jokingly asked my aunt if she was saying all this because he married me.
She didn’t didn't miss a beat.

“Of course,” she said.
“We’re so thankful to him for taking our Natalie on.”

So yeah. I married up. And I know it.
Most days, I like him better than me, too.

Ladies, make sure you marry right.

I’m not saying give marriage a test run—Lordy, don't do that.
I’m saying: marry intentionally.

Marry with your eyes wide open.
Not because you’re lonely, bored, or checking a box—but because you’ve found someone who shows up for the hard stuff, not just the highlight reel.
It means knowing yourself, knowing them, and being honest about what you’re building together.
Not a fantasy. Not a fixer-upper.

But a real, gritty, steady kind of love.
The kind that holds when life doesn’t.
The kind that sees your chaos and still says, "I got you."

Let me be clear—I’m not saying this from some perfect fairytale.

I’m on my second marriage.

I’ve lived the ache of choosing between keeping the peace and keeping your self-worth.
There are no guarantees. But I made a choice: not to stay in a marriage where I was treated as less than.
Not to settle for “staying” if staying meant disappearing.

Intentional love isn’t just about who you marry—it’s about what you refuse to accept.
And sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is walk away from what isn’t love at all.

But even when you marry right, let’s be honest: marriage is next leve life. Even the best don't always get it right.

This isn’t some princess-meets-prince, cue-the-soundtrack, ride-off-into-forever situation.

Walt really screwed us on that one, ladies.

He conveniently neglected to mention the dishes. The disagreements. The trauma triggers. The make you crazy habits.
The days when the spark feels more like a 3rd degree burn.
He didn’t show us the hard conversations, the therapy, the compromises, or the emotional whiplash of two real humans trying to do life together.

Love is not the absence of conflict.
It’s showing up anyway.
Over and over again.
With grace. With grit. With just enough humor to get through the next round of laundry and miscommunication.

This man goes out of his way to take care of me.
Not to impress anyone—in a real, every-single-day way.
He anticipates what I need. He supports the parts of me that are tired, scattered, overworked, or overwhelmed.

Honestly?
It’s a little embarrassing.
Not because of him, but because of how pampered I am.
Because I need more care than I want to admit.
Because he carries a lot—without ever making me feel like I’m too much.

Turns out, being pampered isn’t the problem—
it’s realizing you actually needed that kind of care all along.

I try to take care of him too. I pretty much suck at it. But he never makes me feel like I’m not enough.
He loves me—and I see it in his eyes and smile when he looks at me.
He’s still as crazy about me as I am about him.

In a society of fast food and single-use everything, where people treat marriage like an expired coupon or a lease they can walk away from, this—us—is different.

Marriage is a way of life.
Not just a legal status, tax bracket, or ring.
It’s the slow, everyday choosing.
It’s service and softness and showing up when it’s hard.
It’s not 50/50. It’s both people giving what they’ve got—some days that’s 90/10. Or, mostly 90/10 in our house.
Some days it’s survival mode with a side of sarcasm.

But it’s real.
And it’s ours.

P.S.

If any of this sounds old-fashioned, good.

Marriage should be old-fashioned.
It should be intentional. Selfless. Steady. Sacred.

Somewhere between princess movies and hookup culture, we forgot what it meant to be a partner.
To build something that doesn’t bend with every mood. To stay.
But we can remember. We can reclaim it.

So no, this isn’t just a love letter to my husband.
It’s a love letter to what marriage was always meant to be—
before Disney came along and helped turn covenant into fantasy.

It’s not always easy.
But it’s beautiful.
And it’s worth it.

This is what I believe marriage was always meant to be. A covenant. Sacred.
Not just legal, not just romantic—but spiritual.

No matter what marriage looks like for you—make it real.
Make it rooted. Make it stand for something.