I grew to love my childhood, church friend who I didn’t see for several years. Through those years he grew from a nerdy looking child to a handsome young man. We rekindled our friendship and our love story began. We had a rocky courtship, largely due to his family’s disapproval. To get away from his parent’s influence he joined the military. A while later, I received a bundle of love letters that he’d written, and against his parents wishes a marriage proposal.

There’s one memory, my husband shared with me: as he was walking home one day from college, missing me terribly, he stood in an open field and cried out my name. Just my name, carried by the wind, filled with longing. Through our ups and downs of our long journey together, I’ve felt that same call, especially in the hardest times. Once, I even heard it in my sleep, my husband’s voice, calling out my name. That voice, to me, is like a beacon, guiding love back home where it belongs.

We desperately need a kitchen renovation. After my father in law passed away, my husband almost died of Covid and hasn’t been the same since. He started the renovation but has been unable to complete it.