Thirty-one years ago today, I got on a plane for the very first time and flew to Las Vegas with Carrie-Anne. I had asked her to marry me on that morning of November 25, 1989 and by 11:30 that night, we were husband and wife, hitched by a deputy sheriff in the basement of the Clark County courthouse. She said “yes” to me that day and she’s been saying “yes” to me ever since.
Carrie-Anne said “yes” to a radio career marked by slow upward mobility — emphasis on mobility. She said “yes” to Pampa, Marble Falls, Memphis, Wichita Falls, and, finally, Dallas. She said “yes” to the trials and tribulations that come with being a preacher’s wife. She said “yes” to Austin, North Richland Hills, and Amarillo. She’s said “yes” to Van Halen concerts and more Rangers games than we could count. She’s said “yes” to scary movies, political documentaries, and The Simpsons. She said “yes” to the Pro Football Hall of Fame and the Dr Pepper Museum. She’s said “yes” to trips to Ukraine, Peru, Brazil, Columbia, and Bolivia. (She continues to say “no” to Israel, but I’m still asking.)
I don’t know how it keeps happening. That first “yes,” maybe, came in a moment of weakness. However it happened, I feel very lucky and grateful. I thank God every single day that Carrie-Anne said “yes” that Friday after Thanksgiving in 1989. Today, we have a houseful together — three adult daughters, a new son-in-law, and Carley’s large dog. And more unknowns and adventures still to come. Together.
Carrie-Anne knows me better than anyone. We’ve been through a lot together in 31-years. She has seen and experienced the worst of me and the best of me. And, by the grace of God, she keeps saying “yes.” I feel so fortunate to be her husband, so blessed by the Lord that she is my wife.