This weekend is my wife’s and my wedding anniversary. Yes, six years ago, on Mother’s Day, all our most cherished family and friends forsook their own mothers to come and celebrate our blessed nuptials together. Needless to say, we were extremely touched and impressed by their gesture. Their mothers, not so much.
Btw, I’m going to take a quick timeout to say Mark was our officiant for the wedding. And to anyone out there who’s ever planning to get married, I have to say, if you don’t let your best friend be the one to marry you, you are letting one of the most personal, most intimate opportunities pass you by.
But anyway, there we were, on the happiest day of our lives, surrounded by everyone we loved, and after a round of touching and rollicking speeches, it was my turn to say a little something. I had this whole thing planned, but to be honest, as I looked over the crowd and soaked in all that pure unfiltered love, I started to tear up and was trying damnedest to just not break down. I thanked everyone quickly, and then the one thing that popped into my mind was a line from Jerry Maguire.
Yeah, Jerry MafuckingGuire.
So I went with it. It’s from the late great Dicky Fox, Tom Cruise’s mentor from the movie. And it went a little something like:
“You know, in life, I’ve failed as much as I’ve succeeded.
But I love my wife. I love my life.
And I wish you all, my kind of success.”
And I meant it. From the bottom of my heart.
F IS FOR FAILURE
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what I said that day.
It’s pretty incredible to think how much has changed in those six years. After marriage. After kids. After running my own business. I’m definitely not the same Joe that said “I do” all those years ago. And thank God for that!
I haven’t really accomplished all that much since then. In fact, if anything, I’ve failed more in the past six years than all the thirty some odd years before that. Because, truth be told, until I met my wife, I hadn’t really tried to do anything. At least nothing of any real importance. I hadn’t failed, because there was no attempt, no challenge to even fail at.
And now, I’m happy to say I fail at stuff all the damn time. Well, maybe not happy, but you know what I mean. We fail, and life goes on.
Now don’t get me wrong, it still hurts when I fail. A lot.
And, I’ll be honest, I still think about it pretty much all day long, but there’s a certain… pride? Satisfaction? I don’t know what it is exactly, but there’s something there each time I attempt something new, something better, and even though I don’t make it, there’s something there that feels different than it did before.
People always say failure is just an opportunity to learn something, and after the sting of it wears off, they’re right, of course. But honestly, with how many hours I work and how tired I am all the damn time, the only lesson I feel like I learn every day is – being a parent is hard! Running a business is hard! and, of course, Neeeed Sleeep.
But that’s not entirely true. I did learn something. It took failing for me to really learn I’m not alone. That, I’ve never been.
YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE
My wife and I have this tradition where we watch our wedding video on every anniversary. And it always reminds me where I came from. How each and every one of the people there helped me become and be the person I am today.
And since you are the only people even reading this blog, I wanted to say this.
I don’t know exactly what the future holds, but I do know Mark and I are in for some pretty epic fails along the way. But don’t worry we’re going to have some really good days too.
Either way, I think we know it’s all your fault. (You all know who you are)
Be back next week. Til then,
Stay tuned. Stay frosty.