Matt and I don’t have your run of the mill romance story. I was 17 and he was 24 when we met. He was too old for me at the time, but it was a moot point because the Fall after I graduated high school, I moved to a tiny town in East Texas for a two year long film internship that would strictly prohibit dating. By the time I was finally “allowed” to have a boyfriend, I was 20 and Matt and I had been best friends for two and a half years. We dated for three months, and were engaged for three more before getting married. People often make comments about how quickly things went between us, but the truth is, I had loved Matt long before I ever told him, and I would have married him the day he asked me out. 

A month before our wedding, Matt and I decided it would be a good time for him to quit his decently paying, stable job in the corporate world and pursue life as a musician. Looking back, I can only imagine the near heart attack we gave my Dad, but I was also blessed to grow up in a home that believes in hard work and big dreams. 

The first couple of years looked nothing like we thought they would, but probably a lot like anyone reading this story would expect. We lived off of savings for about 8 months and quickly realized Matt’s bi-monthly bar gigs weren’t going to pay the bills, so we would have to get creative. I had no degree and wasn’t sure at the time what direction I wanted to go, so I started taking a couple classes at community college and became a part time nanny. Meanwhile, Matt got hired on as a school bus driver, which would allow him to continue pursuing music and provide supplementary income while he was getting his feet off the ground. But in all honesty, God has been the steadfast and faithful one in this equation. We have never once lacked. 

Before Cyrus came along, I never missed a gig. Before Jarod and Daren joined the team, it was often just Matt and I, setting up and tearing down. Late nights and long drives. 

Since becoming a mom, however, my level of support has started to look a lot different, and I'm learning that's ok. I miss a lot of gigs and I’m usually asleep on nights he gets home late. But adaptability bodes well in a marriage that is still (and to some degree, will always be) adjusting to parenthood. Dreams are like seeds that we, as spouses, have the privilege of nurturing and watching grow. I believe in Matt's music as much as I believe in my need to write or create. And while I don't always do a very good job of showing it, I take my role in helping him reach his goals very seriously.

 I may not be loading gear into his station wagon, but I’m praying for him while he plays. I’m boiling water for his tea, and getting Cyrus bathed and put to bed. But more than anything, I hope that I am showing him how much I believe in him. Because being a musicians wife isn't just about dancing in the crowd or leaving the porch light on. It's about believing in the man God created him to be. And it's about choosing adaptability over the comfort that comes from being in control. I think that's true of any wife. And I also believe undoubtedly that we have been given this immense responsibility to see forth the dreams that might otherwise lie dormant in our spouses. For that reason, I will never be anything but grateful for being a musicians wife.