Our Story: Part 2

{This post is a continuation of  a series about my husband's and my story. Read part one here}

Where were we.... Oh, yes, Tijuana, Mexico.

Back to the States we came. At that time, we were both going into our junior year of high school and my biggest concerns were basketball, track & field, my girlfriends, and a boy who wasn't named Daimian.

While in Mexico, I racked up a $500 phone bill calling that boy every single day. When I got back from Mexico, he bought me a promise ring and I just knew that I would be his wife one day. I was sixteen and had fallen in love for the first time. We went to proms together, had dates at Red Robin, drove around in his Mustang, and got our first tattoos together (luckily, not of each other, just at the same time).

But, as I know and you know now, it wasn't meant to be. It was a rough ending... Between the cheating, the breaking up and getting back together a few times, having to lose each other's families, and experiencing my first true heartbreak, I was devastated. I look back now and I understand just how much I am grateful for both of us that the Lord brought us out of a relationship that wasn't centered on Him, wasn't healthy, and we both have found spouses that we were supposed to be with. But it taught me a lot. And I am grateful.

I graduated high school and went through an incredibly rebellious stage of life. I knew that I was supposed to be at a Bible College nearby, but I didn't want to. I chose drinking and community college instead. I tried to drown out my heartbreak and avoid what God wanted from me. I finally hit rock bottom and decided to stop running, so in 2009, I decided to enroll at Salem Bible College.

I remember walking in the door the first day of classes. I walked into chapel and there were a whole lot of faces I didn't recognize. I was annoyed that I had "given in" and ended up at this tiny school pursuing a degree in Christian Leadership. I looked around for something to help me stop freaking out, and there was Daimian. I remembered him from our trip to Mexico three years before. I had seen him around at our state wide youth convention and at other youth events. He was well-known around the district of churches because while I was worried about skipping class, this guy was leading a Bible study at his school, handing out Bibles, etc.

Little Daimian in 2009

We became friends quickly. I was amazed at how awesome the people were at this school. We all had crazy stories - some crazier than others - but we all bonded over a tests, fast food, and a passion for Jesus. Our group was close, and Daimian - who I had first met three years ago in a completely different situation of life - was a part of that group and I am so grateful he was. 

Study Group - 2009

Before we had any idea we would end up as husband and wife

Our Story: Part One

With my anniversary a couple weeks behind us, I started thinking, I am not sure if people have heard out story in full before. Granted, it is not something out of Hollywood or anything, but I thought it would be fun for Daimian and I, if nothing else, to document our little love story and remember how we got to this time.

Our story starts a long time ago in 2006. It was the summer in between my sophomore and junior year of high school. I had been out of the country one time to Cambodia on a missions trip and had caught the travel bug there. So when the opportunity came for me to travel once again and do service work in a different country, I took it. This time we would be driving to Tijuana, Mexico. I spoke a tiny bit of Spanish and LOVED Mexican food, so I was ready.

A much skinnier version of me with Mo and Berry

My two best friends, Alex (Berry) and Justine (Mo), were joining me on the trip along with my sister, my parents, and a couple other friends in our youth group. We spent time fundraising, praying, and preparing for what we hoped to be life-changing. The day finally arrived, we loaded in the church van and drove to Madras where we would meet up with the rest of the students from our state who we would be traveling with. The trip isn't something I remember a lot other than sitting in the very back, not a lot of air conditioning, and gazing out the window as the scenery made an extreme change from southern California, the border crossing, to the slums of Mexico.

As we drove in Rancho De Sus Ninos, the orphanage we would be staying and doing most of our work with, another group was already there, also from Oregon. They had driven in from Pendleton, I place I had heard of but never been in the eastern part of my home state. I don't remember a lot about the first parts of the trip other than we mixed A LOT of concrete for building projects and loved on a lot of orphans, all while enjoying the best, most authentic Mexican food I had ever had.

It wasn't the biggest group in the world, big enough to get things done, but small enough to really be close. I started to get to know the guys from Pendleton, and Mo even found a summer fling with a boy from their church. That was when I first met Daimian. He looks a lot like he does now, but with a lot less facial hair. I remember him, I remember his name and what he looked like, though he would remember only my dad, Berry, and Mo, but that story is for a different time.

Baby Daimian

So little facial hair....

Little Dunn

I have a confession to make.
I have baby fever.
Bad.

I have been thinking about babies a lot, pinning baby things on pinterest, thinking of names I like, on and on and on.

Let me say this: I am not pregnant, nor am I trying to get pregnant.

But I have friends who are having babies, my niece just turned eight months old, I am twenty-four and these things cross my mind. The problem is that thinking about these things gives me extreme anxiety and extreme joy all at the same time.

Firstly, the realization that I am bringing a child into the world that is very scary at times. Ebola, ISIS, declining morality, school shootings, its just a nutty place. My faith is tested sometimes thinking about how much I will want to protect the little peanut but you can't protect them from everything.

Not only that, but I really enjoy my husband. Like a lot. I love him more than I even knew I could care for someone. And its just him and I right now. We stay up late watching the shows and movies we like. We have to worry about only feeding ourselves. On Sundays, we get to sleep in a bit because we only have to get ourselves ready for church. If we want to go to dinner just because, we get in the car and we go. We spend money on ourselves. We even have time to take a nap sometimes.

We just enjoy each other and only each other right now.

And I am extremely scared to lose that.

I know I want children. I will be a mom someday. But the thought of it no longer being just him I, just Daimian and Brittany, is unknown territory and honestly a little sad.

Is that normal? Anyone else had these thoughts? Cause at the moment, I feel like a terrible, faithless, selfish human being.

In my head, I know that God is in control, and  I will still have my husband, and once I hold my baby (whenever that is... not now) I will forget all my sadness and it'll be worth it, but right now, today, I am scared for and of a Little Dunn I haven't even met yet.

No Use Crying Over... Egg Rolls?

Last night I cried.
I cried over an egg roll.
Yes, an egg roll... The deep fried pastry stuffed with veggies and pork and dunked in soy sauce.
I don't even like egg rolls that much.
But there I was in the kitchen, tears coming out of my eyeballs.

I am just being honest here, people.

Why in the Moses would I cry over a stupid piece of food?
It wasn't about the egg roll itself... I promise...

I am tired of being addicted to food.

I am tired of passing restaurants on the road and thinking about all the delicousness inside.
I am tired of going into a restaurant, really wanting to make the right decisions in my heart of hearts, but not being able to say no to cheese sticks and Mt. Dew.
I am tired of watching the scale go up and having to buy bigger pants and somehow justifying it in my own mind reaching a new level of denial.
I am tired of it all.

And I am scared.
I am scared that something as ridiculous as food could be so controlling, so consuming.
I am scared that I spent so long not knowing I was addicted.
I am scared that it is something I will never not face.
I am scared that I will never be able to overcome this.
I am scared that I have tried so many times before and failed.
I am scared this time won't be any different.

And so, when I was offered an egg roll, and I knew I had already hit my calories for the day and it wasn't healthy but I wanted it anyways, it was like I had been slapped in the face with all my frustration and fear all at once. Who knows why it was an egg roll that would do that.

But my husband took my hand and he gave me a hug and told me that this time was different. He reassured me that we have more motivation, we are in it together, and we had accountability now.

Addiction sucks. It isn't like heroin, so hear me when I say that. But I have finally come to the understanding that its there and I have to deal with it and I can conquer it.

This time is different. This time I am doing it.

Ghosts and Caution Tape

My husband is a fan of fall.
Like a big fan.
We even chose the fall to get married in because he loves it so much.
And so do I.

This year, he wanted to decorate. Let me give you some context, Mr. D. is a minimalist. When we first got married, I remember one of our first arguments being about the fact that I wanted picture frames on the wall and he thought they were unnecessary. Needless to say, I was shocked when he asked this year if we could decorate.

So he went to the dollar store and found some cheesy Halloween decorations. I am so not into them, but he loves them, so there are cute ghosts on my windows, pumpkins all over (I really don't mind the pumpkins), and caution tape in creepy writing.

I thought it was time I busted out a few less tacky of my own decorations. I have SO many pins on Pinterest, that I decided I should actually do one of these things I pinned. So, I found this sign for fall/Thanksgiving. I wanted to make it easier and less time consuming, so I changed a few things.

This is what I was inspired by, but mine looks a little different. All I needed was a trip to Michael's and a little time in my evening, and boom, I had my own sign.

Here are the things you will need:

• Stretched burlap canvas
• I had never heard of these before, but it is literally what it sounds like... A canvas that has burlap stretched over it to give it a cool look and I didn't have to do it.
• I got a 9x12, but there were so many sizes and they were on sale at Michaels!
• Paint
• I chose two different browns and an orange, but only ended up using dark brown.
• Hot glue gun
• Scissors
• Scrapbook paper in fall-ish colors
• Letters
• Paint Brush
• Jute

I started out by painting my letters since I couldn't find any in the right color. I did three coats because these had black writing that you could see through the paint, but it dried really fast. If you have a fancy machine that will cut out a stencil for you, I am jealous, but these letters were much cheaper than a Cricut.

While those dried all the way, I then cut my scrapbook paper to make my flags. I cut them into rectangles of 3"x 1.5". 

Then I folded them in half (ignore my terribly painted nails)

Lastly, just cut them into a triangle...

I then cut a piece of jute a long as I needed for my canvas size and just hot glued my triangle flags over the jute, like so. 

I then glued on the letters, let those dry, and then glued on the jute . A couple of the flags I also hot glued down, let it dry, and boom, done. That is literally it. 

Here is the finished product hanging on my wall next to my front door. I think it looks very autumn-y (is that a word?) and makes me excited for leaves and boots and Thanksgiving and pumpkins and rain. 

As for the ghosts and caution tape...... Well, I guess I am the best wife ever. 

I have a boyfriend.

I have a boyfriend.
He is handsome, funny, smart, opinionated, nerdy, a Packers fan, picky, and passionate.
He is also my husband.

I had always heard that you have to date your husband, that you should be his girlfriend and his wife for your entire life. But what did that really mean? Why would marriage life be any different than dating life?

In November, it will be four years since we exchanged vows and I became Mrs. Dunn. I understand now the difference. I don't think either one of us gave up or stopped trying or stopped putting out effort, I think that life just happened and we live together and the feeling is different. You fall into a love that is more steady, less butterflies, less nerves, more of a choice rather than a feeling.

This past year, Daimian and I have realized that we had stopped dating. Not that being married is bad, don't get me wrong, but we had gotten so caught up in ministry, family, work, school, life... I had lost my boyfriend and I was a terrible girlfriend.

So, we decided to fix it. I am so blessed to have a man who realized it and wanted to do something about it. I started getting little notes again and texts just because. I would get flowers just because he loves me and he would make sure to take me on dates often, even if it was just the two of us sitting at Chipotle.

The other night, we had fancy date for the first time in a long time. It was just us two, and though money is really tight, he had saved so that we could have a really nice dinner. We were at the restaurant for about two hours just talking, laughing, holding hands, and it felt just like before, when I was still a Morgan and he had no ring on his finger.

Isn't he handsome?

DELICIOUS mushroom ravioli

Dark chocolate and raspberry panna cotta

I don't know what it is about life that we allow it to get in the way of what really matters. How do errands and to-do lists and groceries and homework ever seem more important than the man who chose me out of 7 billion people to love and be with for eternity? 

From this moment on, I vow once again become and remain Daimian Michael Dunn's girlfriend. 

Third Times a Charm

They say that college students change their major three times on average.
Well, I am on number three.
Third times a charm?
Let's hope so.

I thought I knew the first time. Missionary to Africa. I even got a tattoo of my beloved continent.
Then I went there. And God told me directly, "No."
Well, strike one.

Then, I went with my second choice. This was it for sure, I thought.
Teaching. I want to teach. I want to teach Bible college students.
But, once again, I may be wrong.
I want to love what I do. I want to go to work and have it not feel quite like work.

Am I naive?
I don't know.
And I don't know if I want to teach anymore.

So I have decided to take a break from school this term. I was supposed to begin yesterday, and I chose not to. I may start again next term once I have some clarity. This is a time for me to pray, and pray a lot, a time to listen well and talk less, and for me to seek wise counsel while I gather what I need to to make sure I am choosing correctly.

Why are we expected to make such decisions?

Thanks in advance for your prayers.

What Weight Has Stolen From Me

I can't remember a time where I didn't struggle with my weight. Even in high school when I had three hours of basketball practice or weight training for track to help me, it was still a battle. Once the team sports stopped, something didn't click in my brain and here I am today.

I have had a lot of times where I have tried diets, jogging, phone apps, and gym memberships. Nothing ever stuck and I never did anything consistently. But I never really made it a priority because I didn't really need to. I've never really been self-conscious and I have still been able to do all the things I wanted to do. But, here I am today.

Today, I weigh more than I ever have. It is an incredibly uncomfortable and embarrassing thing to write about, but something that needs to be addressed. It hasn't been until recently that I have really looked back and seen all the things being unhealthy and overweight has cost me. It was a slow decline; I didn't realize it as it happened. Little by little, it cost me more and more. It wasn't until I stopped and turned around and counted that I noticed what was gone. Here I am today.

It has stolen a lot from me. It has stolen basketball from me. I can barely even play. When I do, I always end up hurting something... a knee or my back. I can't shoot or play defense like I was taught. I want to coach someday, but what school or athletic director would trust me? I wouldn't trust me, not like this.

It has stolen power from me. It gets to decide how I feel.. Sometimes I am tired, sometimes I am sick, sometimes I am fine, but I don't decide. It decides what I can and cannot do. I can't go skydiving or ride on certain rides at six flags. I can't wear the clothes I want to or shop in the stores I want to. I get to pay more money to buy clothes that actually fit.

The one thing that hurt the most, the thing that motivated now more than ever in my 24 years, was when I began a discussion with my husband about when we should have kids. Please pay close attention to the fact that we ARE NOT trying, no matter what Daimian tells you (he likes to joke). We have no plans of becoming parents soon. But, we were having a serious discussion about a timeline and it wasn't being dictated by our finances or our living situation. It wasn't being decided by my wants or Daimian's desires. Even the idea of if we thought we were ready or not didn't matter. I think you can guess what drove the conversation... My weight.

I repeat, there is no Dunn Baby happening any time soon. Yet, that wasn't really the point. What hit me over the head like a ton of bricks was the fact that once again, it was in control of my life. The other stuff, the basketball and the clothes, and the skydiving, that was all stuff that didn't really matter, at least not compared to bringing a soul into the world. I wanted to be the one to decide when I became a mom. I didn't want to deprive my husband of a baby when he wanted one just because I enjoy french fries and can't get my butt to the gym.

And so, I decided that no more, no more would something have power over me. I would be the one in control of my own life, my own destiny. If anyone else has control, it will only be the good Lord, not my darn weight. How ridiculous? How stupid that it took this to long, this much weight to understand how much power it really had over me, how many decisions it was making for me, and how many things it was stealing away from me.

I let it. I let it have control. I let it make decisions. and I let it steal.
No more.
I am in control now. I am making decisions now. It will not longer still anything from me.

Fred Phelps

Fred Phelps. May not be the most recognizable name, but if I were to say Westboro Baptist Church, one might recognize that more. For those of you who don't know, here is a little bit about what they do:

Recognize it now? 

2 days ago, their founder and "pastor" died. I have seen a lot of twitter talk, facebook posts, and articles written about this death. A few examples:

"Who wants to protest #FredPhelps funeral with me? Bring drinks let's toast & roast!"

An alternative for "Rest In Peace" is "Rot In Hell."

People say being pumped that #FredPhelps is going to die makes you a bad person. No. Being #FredPhelps makes you a bad person.

“I've never wished a man dead, but I have read some obituaries with great pleasure.”

I think you get the picture... Hatred. So much hatred. 

How do we get off thinking that we can do the exact same thing that he did to so many? How do we think that hatred can be cured with more hatred? 

My heart breaks for this man. He lived his whole life full of hate, anger, and a wrong belief in a truth that wasn't true. He founded his entire life, career, family, thoughts, everything on this hatred. What kind of life is that? To me, that is a tragic one. 

Do I condone what he did? Of course not. Do I condone what he stood for? Of course not. I use the word church and pastor only because that is what they refer to themselves as, but please know that is not at all how I view the organization or him, especially when I myself am a pastor and belong to the Church. 

I guess what I am saying is that I just wish that people would have some compassion. Does he deserve it? Some would say no. But do I deserve it? Some could also say no. At the end of the day, God doesn't rank us based on our sins. To Him, we are all equal. He loves Fred Phelps and no one is more devastated that he is most likely in hell for the rest of eternity than Jesus Christ who died for Mr. Phelps. 

How dare we, those who did not pay the price for his soul, sit here and rejoice? That is not love. That is not Godly. Do not return hate with hate. My heart is sad. More importantly, God's heart is sad. 

Reagan Elizabeth

I am an aunt once again.

On February 22nd, my little sister, Laura gave birth to her first child, Reagan Elizabeth Severin.
I have been in love with her since the moment we found out my sister was pregnant, but watching her be born was life changing, and my love grew instantly.

I think the connection I have with Reagan is a special one. Not only is she the cutest thing I have ever seen - well maybe tied with my baby cousin Audrey - but I am grateful to her. When I met my first niece, the situation was much different. She was sick and I had to say hello and goodbye in the same kiss. She is now in heaven with Jesus and I long for the day I will see her again. With Reagan, it was a completely different situation. She was healthy the whole time, no problems, her birth was perfectly normal and she is growing every day.

But I have to be honest. When we had Reagan's shower, there was a part of me that was sad because I realized this was supposed to happen for Alyse too, and it didn't. When I was at the hospital waiting for her to be born, I realized the last time I had been in the hospital waiting for my niece to be born, it was a tragic time. But when I held her in my arms, it was as if Alyse said to me, "Go ahead, love her too".

I guess I was afraid that if I loved Reagan, it meant that I was forgetting Alyse. That somehow there wasn't enough love to go around because I simply loved Alyse so much. That somehow if I wasn't sad that I couldn't hold Alyse when I was holding Reagan, that my heart was letting her go.

Reagan helped me realize this wasn't the case. There is, in fact, enough love to go around, even if it seems unfathomable. They can both be in my heart, just in different ways.

This aunt thing is amazing. I know when I have kids of my own, it will be something so completely different and life altering, but for now I am learning, growing, and loving in ways I never knew possible just by being an aunt.

To Alyse, I love you and I will never forget you. To Reagan, thank you for healing me, and for teaching me about a love I never knew before.

Plan

I love having a plan. I love planning.
Webster defines plan as:

"a scheme or method of doing, proceeding, making, etc., developed in advance"

I find security in a plan. It gives me some sense of guarantee in a world that isn't guaranteed at all. It may be a false sense of security, but nonetheless, I find some peace in it. 

I had a plan when my masters was going to be over. When we were going to start trying for kids. When I could get a grown-up job.

Today, when I looked at my plan for school, I realized I was quite off on the end date. Now all of the things I had planned, all of the security I had, is gone. When do we start trying for kids? Can I go to school and have kids? Should we wait until I am done, even though its far away? When in the world am I finally going to be done with homework? 

I guess its a good thing He already knows. 

"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven." Ecclesiastes 3:1

"And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose." Romans 8:28

"The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps." Proverbs 16:9

I guess I learned a lesson about where I should place my security.

It'll all work out. It always does. 

I wish I just didn't stress so much. 

Does anyone else do that too? Or is it just me?

Is that a calling?

Last night I finally got to see my girls play ball at the high school where I helped coach last year. During my brief time with them last season, I came to care about them so very much and I miss them now that I am no longer an assistant. Watching them from the stands rather than the bench hurt my heart.

I believe everyone is put on earth for a reason, and I am no exception. For quite a few years, I have struggled trying to figure out what exactly my reason was. I found a love for teaching that I know is a part of my calling, thus the masters degree, but I felt like there was more, that something was missing. After I started coaching last year, I thought, "Maybe this is the missing piece?" But how could it be? Its basketball.. A sport. A sport I love, but nonetheless, still a sport.

How could coaching be a calling? Basketball is just basketball... This year, because of school and life I have been too busy to help anywhere with coaching and it has been devastating. Its weird to go from doing something I love so much to just not. But, I realized something through not being able to coach this year... it is part of my calling and that is perfectly okay.

All my life, growing up in the church, there are times where I have felt pressure to fit my calling in the box. Missionary, pastor, worship leader... It has to fit in the ministry box. But when I think back to the difference my coach made on my life when I was in high school, I see it is absolutely a ministry. Watching my sister's coach this year, a pastor and a coach, has really taught me that it can be part of the reason you are on earth. Seeing my uncle make a difference in the lives of a lot of young men in his town has helped confirm it. The relationship formed with the players is uncompromising. There is still an inner struggle, a question of whether I am just letting my love of the Portland Trailblazers, Larry Bird, and the game in general get in the way of what I really should be doing. But I am passionate about it. I love talking about it, I love going over x's and o's, I love watching it, I love studying it, I love playing it, I love it all, but most importantly, I love connecting with the players.

All that to say this, it is okay that my calling is different than those in the box. It is okay that my calling has to do with sports. I can make a difference wherever I am called, whether that is the bush of Ethiopia, the orphanages in Cambodia, the streets of L.A., or the basketball court in Oregon. And I have learned to be more than okay with it. I have learned to love it.

Greek

I try not to let my posts ever become a place where I can just whine. I know you 3 readers don't want to read it and I certainly don't want to write it. So hear me when I say I do not want this post to be me whining.

I had a breakdown yesterday.

I couldn't really pay too much attention to the Super Bowl because I was in the middle of an eight hour (yes... eight) period of time dedicated to my Greek homework. By the end, my eyes were crossed and I was seeing so many kappas and gammas I thought I was in a frat house for sure.

This masters is kicking my butt.

Its where all of my time goes.
Its where all of my money goes.
Its where all my energy goes.

I rarely see my family, I have had to miss church and give some of my responsibilities away, I had to stop helping coach my sister's basketball team (which let me tell you, coaching basketball is my #1 passion), and have even gotten in trouble at work for not getting some of my stuff done on time. People ask me over and I always have to say no. And I spent the Super Bowl in my apartment having to turn down every invitation to a party that I got.

So about my breakdown, I just started crying. My husband looked over and thought something major was wrong. I told him I felt silly because I was crying over a dumb ancient language, but really it goes deeper than that. I just need some assurance from the big guy upstairs that all of this that I am doing is really what He wants me to do... I just need Him to tell me, "Yes, it will be worth it in the end.. All the sleepless nights, stressing so bad you're physically ill, a complete lack of interaction with other humans, it will all be worth it." I need His strength. I need His confidence. I need His assurance.

I know people have it worse. I don't have cancer. My child isn't sick. No one has died. I haven't lost my home. I get all that. But for a moment, this season of my life is the probably the most stressed, the most overwhelmed I have been.

I just want a reminder that I am on the right track and He will make it all work out for the good of me who loves Him.

2013

I know we are a few days into 2014, but my New Year kind of started yesterday with our consecration service at la iglesia (church, for you non-bilinguals). I was sitting here today thinking of what a crazy up and down year 2013 was for my husband and I. There was a lot of good but there was a lot of bad. Its amazing how much happens in a year and yet it feels like it was just yesterday I was looking back on 2012.

In April, we gained a new member of the Morgan family in my cousin Audrey. She is so darn adorable and its been a long time since we had a new baby in the family. In May, we said hello and goodbye to my cousin, Alyse Marie Serini, one of the toughest things I have ever experienced.

I graduated with a Bachelors of Science Degree in Christian Leadership from Northwest University, Salem Campus and I got to do so alongside my mom and husband, which was a unique and blessed experience.

June came, and my not-so-baby brother graduated from Stayton High School.. Seriously, this kid is like 6'3" and I have no idea when that happened. I love him to death though and I am his biggest fan.

June also brought about one of the greatest things to happen to us. We joined Relevant Life Church in Salem Oregon during a very broken time not only in our personal lives, our marriage, but in our ministry and our lives as pastors. I don't think anyone but Daimian and I can truly understand what this congregation along with the pastors and their families have done for us or mean to us. I consider them more than leadership, but family.

 August brought about a much needed vacation with our trip to Vegas. My parents came on the road trip as a graduation gift for all of us. We also learned that my sister was pregnant! I cannot tell you how excited I was (and still am). I can't wait to meet Reagan!

In September, my parents celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary with a vow renewal ceremony. We lost electricity in the middle of the Silver Falls state park and a storm, but it was still very pretty and incredibly inspiring.

I embarked on a new journey in October when I started my masters program. It has been more challenging then I thought, but in both a good and stressful way. Its just one step closer to my goal.

And in November, I celebrated 3 years with my favorite person on the planet, my husband. I can't believe its been 3 years, but it also feels like I can't remember what it was like without him. He continues to be my rock, my greatest gift, and my best friend. 

I am a blessed girl, and I do hope that 2014 is even better.