The Second Vow

A return to the mirror. A promise made in silence.

With this ring, I thee wed.

I give you my hand, my heart, and all the years I’ve yet to live.

I may not have known then what love would truly require,

but I knew—without a doubt—it would be you.

I promise to show up, to keep choosing you,

to hold the line when it’s easy,

and even more when it’s not.

Through laughter, through grief,

through the everyday ordinary,

and the extraordinary storms—

I’m yours.

Still and always.

[Chas and I celebrated 22 years this past April]

With this ring, I thee wed

— to myself.

Because the commitment doesn’t end at the altar—

it begins in the mirror.

To have and to hold.

To honor both the fire and the fatigue.

To give myself grace in failure,

and demand a standard worth rising for.

It’s been almost 20 weeks since my last post: Sweet Baby Jarvis, RIP

Not because I had nothing to say—

but because I needed space to mean it again.

This email? It’s from a new address.

This is not a rebrand.

A recalibrated alignment.

...a restoration

Through the quiet, clarity came.

Half this email list was trimmed by choice.

And two... went to heaven.

What remains is a smaller circle.

More sacred.

More intimate.

More me.

I don’t need a spotlight.

I need a standard.

To be steady in the storm.

To fix what’s broken—without bragging about it.

To carry weight without complaint.

To measure twice and own the cut.

To protect what matters.

To sweat the details.

To do what I said I’d do, even when it’s inconvenient.

To make things that last.

To ask for help when I’d rather muscle through it.

To let my sons see me try, even in failure.

To work with my hands and live with my heart.

To start over without shame.

To leave no doubt.

This ring doesn’t shine. It’s not meant to.

It’s silicone.

Cheap in price—rich in meaning.

It reminds me that doing hard things isn’t about glory.

It’s about showing up when I’d rather not.

For my family.

For myself.

For the man I promised to become—

And for the community that walks beside me.

So with this ring, I don’t promise perfection.

I promise presence.

Persistence.

Practice.

A vow not spoken—but lived.

In effort. In silence. In every corner of my life.

This is the second vow. No less sacred than the first.

Have a grateful weekend.