I Do

Thanksgiving week. Late Buck. The chill of November and the excitement of Christmas.

Lip stick checks, heels, boutonnieres, cake, red roses. Church bells.

 
This cute Puerto Rican firecracker said "I Do" to this handsome fellow...








Yep! That's my dad!


We all know that nobody is perfect. Even more, two people living together doesn't make our problems disappear. I'm not going to tell you how perfect my parents are, or that I never heard a harsh word in my life. However, I do believe that 26 years of marriage doesn't just happen without doing a few things right. More than that though, I want  YOU, Mom and Dad, to know how you are seen by myself, David and Zachary. I want you and everyone that reads this today to know all the ways you've been there for us. As you think back on the 26 years together, think about the good times and be thankful, the tough times and know we all have ours, the beautiful moments and hold each other a bit closer.


You gave me life.
A good one too.

And after a few years, you gave me a whole tribe to grow up with. Six beautiful siblings. What more could a bossy oldest girl want?!


With a few bumps in the road, you've gotten 4 of us through high school. A few more reluctant than others.  Only 3 left!

Here and there you took us on some road trips. Who knew some would be more fateful than others?

(* For those of you who might be tuning in, this photo was taken when our family made a trip from Western Washington, to Eastern Oregon for New Years to visit the Henry family. Almost all on behalf on myself. It was during this trip that David and I knew we couldn't live without each other and started plotting our teenage love into marriage.)


David and I in the red coats at the wise old age of 19 and 17.

You've married 3 of your daughters.





Thankfully they get progressively older with each wedding. We've yet to make it out of the teens before the alter.


Mom and Dad, you are truly cherished. Each in your own way you make our lives fuller, richer, happier.

Dad your work ethic, though slightly overkill, is something I hope to teach my children. Never, ever, did I wonder if we would be provided for. Without a doubt we all knew you would do whatever work it took not just to give us the basics, but now as a parent, I know you gave your children so much more than the minimum. You encouraged honesty, virtue and hard work. Recently you allowed me to learn something else. We both enjoy fresh, local food that we've worked hard for. You are always the biggest fan of my backyard tomatoes. You are also one of my favorite people to cook for. You always make me feel like I am a renowned chef. This fall you took me outdoors, pregnant and all. I learned the joy and satisfaction not in killing for sport, but in providing for my family.  Though I don't enjoy hunting stories, guns, target shooting and gutting out an animal, you brought a very fulfilling experience into my life. Sitting in the cold morning air with you made me feel like your little girl again. Your calm, okay not calm, but wise direction and presence made me feel confident. Your reverence and thankfulness for the animal showed me that man has a lot to be thankful for and we must take care to realize this each time we take something from the earth. Even more, you and I worked for hours cutting and packing meat. We talked. You showed me meat cuts. Your dad was a butcher. Though he has been gone a while, I like that you taught me something your dad taught you.



Mom, your hospitality is a beautiful thing. Open are your doors. That includes strange friends, stray cats, dogs, birds, chickens. The fact that a little bit of Grandpa Hollister is in you is undeniable. Not only is the number of children you bore remarkable, but so is the number of times we've all packed your home with hungry friends. You take time for people. Babies are your specialty. Didn't you have 3 of my friends kids plus Zach spur of the moment once so we could do Cinco De Mayo dinner as adults? Late nights are your trademark. I'm beginning to understand, now that I too am a mom. A dark quiet house is like a sanctuary. Though once we hit a certain age, you had a harder time having a dark house to yourself. You've learned the art of sharing everything with your children. I very specifically remember one day that I had seen you give, and give. I was probably around 11 years old. You went and got an apple for yourself, then one hungry small sibling wanted some too. I remember taking up your defense and telling them "No! That is Moms! Leave her alone." I'm pretty sure you smiled at me, but went ahead and gave your apple away. Whenever I have a rough day, and that is just with one sweet little boy, I always shake my head and wonder how on earth you did it!

Taking the best of both your strengths, you've made some unhappy times into simply twists and turns in our paths. We've each had them, and will continue to I'm sure. Changing jobs mid life, moving 350 miles from family to a new town. The struggle of making children into adults. To name a few.

For David and I, your support and presence during our most tragic moment helped us through.


Being there when we first met Zachary is such a cherished memory.


Who would have thought our sweet little family of 9 would have grown into this crazy crowd of 14!

With two more grand babies expected in 2011!

And just think, all this before you even turn 50!
We love you so much! Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad! You guys look great to boot!



Love, Alyssa