Love Lives Here

One of the wedding gifts we received was a massive picture frame for four photos...and beside the photos are the words Love Lives Here.

The frame is grand in every way, and Ryan and I spent quite a bit of time deciding which wall to use and what other wall hangings to pair with it...it was quite the process. Not gonna lie.

I stared at the frame for so long wondering what pictures to place inside. Color photos? Black and white? Which ones?

I stared at those words: Love Lives Here. Which of our {approximately} four billion pictures accurately conveyed that love lives here?

As I sifted through albums of pictures, it came to me. I presented the idea to Ryan, and he loved it.

The pinky promise swear. When Ryan and I were dating, I went through a season when I worried that he, like the others I'd dated, would wake up one morning and think I wasn't worth the effort. Not worth the pursuit. I went through nights when after we would hang up the phone or Skype, I would sit in bed and beg God to let him keep wanting me. It was a good exercise in learning to trust God - and an even better exercise in learning to trust a man. This man.

One night, as Ryan and I discussed my fears, he told me he would "pinky promise swear" that this was forever. It became our little thing - the pinky promise swear - and when we had our engagement pictures taken in the park, he asked his mom to take a picture of us doing our pinky promise swear.

And I love this picture. It reminds me that even before he asked me to be his, he was committed to me - and he solidified it in a pinky promise swear.

My niece was given charge of my camera on our wedding day, and she followed me around like a good Cassie-razzi and snapped pictures of everything all day. As Ryan and I walked through the roads of our resort, moving from one photo-opp location to another, she snapped this picture of us holding hands.

I love it. I love to hold Ryan's hand - anywhere and everywhere.  While we watch TV...while we're in the car...always during prayer...during church...walking through parking lots...always. When I was in college, one of my roommates told me she felt like hand holding was a bigger deal than kissing, because it proclaimed to everyone in view that those two belonged to each other. I never forgot that. And each time Ryan reaches for my hand, it reminds me I belong.

We love to pray together. We love to curl up close and pray long and hard - really seeking the Lord together. It is such a privilege to pray for Ryan. I remember the first time I ever did so, out loud, in his presence. It was over the phone...on a rough morning for him, and I remember this unbelievable feeling of the Lord's presence resting on me as I prayed for him - hoping the words would comfort him. And I remember the first time we ever prayed together in person - both of us shaken {in a good way} at the end by the bond we felt in that prayer.

And on our reception day, we knelt at the altar and prayed together, even through the pictures Rachel took...and I love this symbol of the hands that hold mine in prayer even while his heart holds mine in prayer.

These photos say to me, to us, love lives here. Love lives in the budding promise of the pinky promise swear. Love lives in the grasping hands that declare belonging. Love lives in the hands clasped in prayer.

And for our big picture in the frame...this one...the ultimate outward symbols that we wear each day proving that regardless of where we are...love lives here.

Love lives in the promises we made when we slipped those rings on our hands. Love lives in the words spoken before God symbolized in the metal.

Love. 

Lives.

Here.