Dear Men of the World: You Won’t Regret Giving This To Your Family

I’ll never forget the day my husband handed me a wooden box with a letter in it.

It was the same year he gave one to each of our children.

The book, Letters from Dad, made a profound impact on him many years ago. It begs the answer to this question: “If you were to die today, what would your (wife and) children hold in their hands tomorrow that would let them know they were the treasures of your life?”

My husband has been answering that question by filling up our letterboxes and our hearts ever since.

He’s written dozens of letters-some funny, some serious, all memorable. On our youngest’s 8th birthday last month, she read the letter before she opened her gifts, giggling at his own second-grade memories.

Because we all understand the letters are the gift. Letters are free, they don’t take much time, but they are absolutely priceless.

A few weeks ago as we celebrated our anniversary in NYC,  Terrell pulled me aside and read the following words to me.

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Less than halfway through, as tears dripped from my chin, I thanked God for this imperfect man who leads us and loves us so well.

He is giving us a beautiful legacy and today, I want to share it with the men of the world in hopes that you will give your wife and children the same gift.


I find myself overwhelmed. I can never do justice to the past twenty years in a letter to you. If I wrote a novel over the next twelve months, I would only be scratching the surface. The beautiful part is that I am not really the one writing this story. This is God’s story and our story. You are my coauthor. One day, I can only hope that our kids drag these letters out of a dusty box and they understand that their dad loved their mom.

I do love you. You are beautiful! For more than twenty years you have been my best friend and confidant. We have traveled many miles and many roads together. When I married you, I married well. You are the one thing I have never quit or given up on. And God knows that you have never given up on me. It probably would have been easier for you if you did quit. But you didn’t. Did I mention I love you? You’re tenacious, bold, strong, tender, kind, humble, sexy, vulnerable, gentle, courageous, caring, loving, patient, brilliant, innovative, creative and on and on.

We have been to hell and heaven together. Actually we’ve probably made the round trip a couple of times.   I am humbled that you love me. Could a man ever ask for anything more than a good woman? Could a man dare hope to have a great woman? Well, I declare with my whole heart that you are an amazing woman and so much more.

In 1994, you said, “I do.”

In 1995, you said, “I will,” and we moved to Arkansas

In 1997, you said, “Let’s take a risk,” and we headed to Albuquerque

In 1999, you said, “I want to be a mother,” and God gave us a daughter in 2000

In 2001, you said, “I believe in you,” and we left the ministry

In 2002, you said, “Florida has got to be better than this,” and we moved and it was worse, but God redeemed our time and gave us a son

In 2003, you said, “You’re not a failure,” and we moved to Texas

In 2004, you said, “God will provide,” and I got a job in the Pharmaceutical industry

In 2005, you said, “I forgive you,” and I saw the face of the Jesus

In 2006, you said, “God has given us grace,” and our miracle was born

In 2008, you said, “I want to write,” and the world met “THAT” family

In 2010, you said, “Yes,” and God wrecked us both and we started Mercy House

In 2012, you said, “Now is the right time,” and we moved and started over

In 2013, you said, “We have to tell our story,” and the “Rhinestone Jesus” manuscript was turned in to Tyndale

In 2014, you said, “I believe in you,” (Or maybe you said, “Help!”) and I quit my job to run Mercy House


It sounds unbelievable to even say it. Sometimes I wish I could smith words the way you do. I would smith until I couldn’t smith anymore telling you how I love you. I would tell you in a thousand ways that you are a gift from God. I would write a hundred poems declaring your beauty. I would pen a million songs so that the world would know that I need you.

I still need you! I still want you. No one knows me the way you do. No one loves me when I’m not that loveable…but you do! For that and so much more, I love you.

Kristen Welch, I love you. I want you. I need you.


What I Want My Little Girls To Know About My Wedding

Dear Daughters,

A few months ago you were both in a wedding and between that and all the popular TLC bridal shows on Netflix and the breathtaking wedding boards on Pinterest, it’s got you asking questions about my wedding.

So, I want to tell you about it.

First of all, it was ugly.

No, really, it was. It was 1994, so that didn’t help.

Neither did my temporary romantic love for the Victorian era. My accent colors were mauve and forest green. Yeah. They were interesting colors against the burnt orange pews of the church and twinkling Christmas trees on the stage. (It was a December wedding).

The bridesmaids wore handmade mauve tent-like dresses that could accommodate an array of sizes, including a very pregnant bridesmaid. I’m pretty sure they were burned while I was on my honeymoon.

I had always planned on wearing a long-sleeved ivory Victorian gown. But instead I fell in love with a white off-the-shoulder sequined contemporary one. I had multiple themes going on.

Remember when you found my dress in a box in the attic a couple of years ago and asked if you could try it on? That kind of stuff is hard on moms.


The reception was in the small, dimly-lit fellowship hall. There wasn’t dinner or dancing or enough satin to cover the drabness of the room. There was some sort of Sprite punch, a delicious wedding cake, groom’s cake (with a plastic fisherman on top) and some mixed nuts.

There weren’t party favors or sparklers. The guests threw birdseed as we ran to my blue Isuzu compact car, awash with ridiculous writing and a condom on the muffler (your Uncle’s contribution). I can still remember the look on the pastor’s face as we waved goodbye.

We immediately stopped at a fast food restaurant where I dumped a pint of birdseed from my underwear on the floor of the bathroom. That was wrong. But it was itchy.

I can’t think of a single pin-worthy picture from the day.

It wasn’t trendy or lavish.



There wasn’t a dance floor or fresh orchids and chandeliers hanging from trees.

But I wouldn’t change a moment of it.

Somehow even with our less than glamorous wedding photo album and honeymoon on an extreme budget to exotic Arkansas, your dad and I will celebrate 20 years of marriage this Christmas.

Because we understood that a marriage isn’t about a wedding.

We discovered that a lifetime of love and commitment trumps an event any day. We learned that starting our new life together debt and doubt-free was a gift to each other.

Yesterday, I read that 70% of girls creating wedding boards on Pinterest, aren’t even engaged yet. With every other marriage ending, do we have time for all this planning and pining for one perfect day?

It makes me sad that the world you’re growing up in concentrates more on the wedding than the marriage. It’s over in a sunset and it’s easy compared to the long marathon of becoming and staying one with your one and only.

I want you to know marriage is more than a venue or a menu. It’s far more than The Perfect Day or saying yes to the dress.

And I know you will probably want all of the above some day. And that’s okay.

I just want you to spend more time praying than planning. I want you to sacrifice more than you spend. I want you to understand your commitment to the man of your dreams is more than a certificate—it’s a covenant to God.

Most of all, I want you to know love. The kind of love your dad and I have that lasts through heartache and headaches. I want you to know that you are loved. You don’t have to earn or achieve it. It’s not dependent on a good hair day or bad. It’s not something you can lose. Whether you’re swept off your feet or remain a confidant single woman, you are enough.

I have seen how fast time flies. I know the days are long and the years are short. I put away the toys and clothes you outgrow regularly. I know while I write this, one of you is practicing eye shadow upstairs and the other is practicing cartwheels in the yard, and I will blink and it will be time to give you away.

You are just beginning to dream. Don’t stop.

And on this regular Monday, I want you to know that my wedding wasn’t much.

But my marriage is more.




This week, I’m reposting some of my most shared blog posts of 2014 with you. Thanks for being a part of this community. I can’t wait to see what 2015 brings!

A Letter to My Children on My 20th Wedding Anniversary

Hi Kids,

This week your dad and I are celebrating 20 years of marriage and I need to tell you a few important things.

First of all, twenty years.

Your dad married me two days before my 22nd birthday. It was the best birthday of my life.

He surprised me on our wedding day and sang to me and we’ve been making music together since.

(Yeah, this officially makes us old. And gross. Keep reading.)

You know how as musicians you play a piece over and over again, until you get it right? And sometimes even with all the practice and perseverance, you don’t play it perfectly, but you still make music? And then sometimes, you play it and the sound fills the room and you know you’ve nailed it?

That’s what marriage is like.


It’s a lot of hard work, it takes a lot of practice, a lot of redoing and fine tuning. There are missed notes and off days mixed with magical moments and beautiful melodies. And if you ask an accomplished musician if they’ve ever played a piece perfectly, they answer no. But they keep playing.

A good marriage isn’t about one bad day or one good one. It’s about not quitting on either.

Your dad and I have had both. You’ve seen some good and bad and there are stories of freedom and forgiveness we will tell you when you’re ready.

A good marriage is about looking for the small gifts that we don’t always see.

Like when your dad got home in the middle of the night recently from his out-of-state trip. It wasn’t because of a delayed flight, it was because he stopped to help a man in the parking lot jump his car. I used to get angry about things like this–arriving home late, making dinner wait, but when I really look past the small inconveniences, I see the big heart of a good man, always looking for ways to help other people.


Daughters, this is the kind of man I married.

And it’s the kind I pray for in your future.

I pray you’re the kind of wife who counts the good your husband does more than you count the bad.

I pray you’re the kind of wife that says I’m sorry first.

I pray you’re the kind of wife who asks Jesus for help.

Because that’s the kind of wife I want to be.

Son, since you were a little boy, you’ve been trying on your dad’s shoes. Keep following his steps.

I pray you’re the kind of husband who makes your wife laugh until her sides ache.

I pray you’re the kind of husband who whispers over your wife in prayer when she’s asleep.

I pray you’re the kind of husband who will love God more than anything else.

I pray you’re the kind of husband who will bring sweet tea on sour days.

Because that’s the kind of dad you have.

I pray you know deep, abiding love. I pray you are each other’s favorite people. I pray you are good forgivers when you drive each other crazy and believe in each other when you can’t believe in yourself.

I pray you have half of what we have.

Most of all, I pray you keep God in the middle to draw you closer to each other. I pray you keep Him above you to remind you that life is a breath and to look for the gift in every day. Because He can take the bad days and hard moments and turn them into beautiful years.

And one day when you look back, it will sound a lot like music.



The Small Things That Make or Break A Marriage

2 AM.

I was wide awake tossing and turning. Terrell asked what was wrong and I told him to go back to sleep, it’s just a backache.

I slipped out of bed and looked for the heating pad. (Everyone over 40 has one of these, right?)  I couldn’t find it and so I started a hot bath. While I soaked, I assumed my husband snoozed, but I heard some banging around and felt bad that now two of us were awake.

Hoping the hot water did the trick, I got back into bed and was surprised to find a warmed heating pad on my side of the bed.

I smiled in the dark, now understanding the creaking doors and opening drawers I heard earlier. My husband gave up sleep to serve me. I whispered thank you.

The small things that make or break a marriage

It’s the little things that make a marriage.

As I lay there and tried to go back to sleep, I couldn’t help but think about being irritated earlier in the day with this same guy. He offered to clean the kitchen after I made dinner. But when I went to get a refill on my drink, I noticed he didn’t wipe off the food on the counters.  I know, unforgivable, right? I complained about it. And probably sighed as I did the job right. I can be a brat.

It’s the little things that break a marriage.

It’s all in how we look at it.

It’s all in what we do with those little things.

Marriages usually face big hurdles at some time or another. We protect and try to fight our way to victory. We are often aware of the giants, the big problems. But for many, the true danger is in the small, day-in-and-day-out stuff that can settle deep in our hearts and grow like a bad seed. These are the small foxes that spoil the vine that Song of Solomon 2:15 warns us of–the little annoyances are like termites, nearly unnoticeable, but they cause significant damage. Sometimes we let the smallest grievances cause the biggest destruction.

the little stuff that makes or breaks a marriage

At the same time, when we look for and acknowledge the little things in our marriage and recognize them as gifts from our spouse, we strengthen our marriage. When I really look for these gifts throughout my day-the way he offers to clean up the kitchen after I cook or fills my car up with gasoline so I don’t have to or the way he turns his alarm clock down so it doesn’t wake me or the way he surprises me with a sweet tea– these are the gifts in my life and they are countless.

They add up-if I stop to add them.

The small stuff can break a marriage if we let it, but it can also make a marriage.

It’s all in how we look at it.


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There is Nothing Quite as Sexy as a Man Who Loves His Wife.

His beard is sprinkled with gray. His hands are rough and calloused. His boots are caked with mud. Sweat dripped from his brow as he mowed his parents’ farm in his worn Wranglers. The muscles across his back rippled as he worked hard in the hot sun.

I called out his name and he turned around.

my man

I snapped a picture so I could remember how good he looked. He laughed and shook his head when I told him so.

But I didn’t laugh.

Because a wife can look into a moment and see more of her husband if she wants to. But she has to be looking.

When I pause and think about my life with this man, I know that it doesn’t matter what kind of day we’ve had. . . loving each other is  a way a life. And I may be a lot of things, but unloved it not one of them. Even when I am unlovable.

He loves me like this:

It’s his protective hand on the small of my back as we walk into an unfamiliar place.

It’s the extra stop on the way home to bring me my favorite drink.

It’s the meaningful eye contact over a crowd of people.

It’s reading the tension in my shoulders and walking across the room to rub it away.

It’s one hand in mine, the other uplifted to God on a Sunday.

It’s watching him empty the change from his pockets into the jar for an anniversary trip we are hoping to take some day.

It’s catching him refolding all the towels and sheets in the linen closet because he saw it needed to be done.

It’s forgiving my grumpy attitude before I have a chance to ask.

It’s making two eggs instead of one.

It’s not leaving.

It’s staying.

No matter what.

It’s so easy in this life to name all the things our husbands don’t do. And most days we could pick them apart if we wanted to. We can always find something when we look closely.

But when I begin to count all the things he does, day-in-and-day out, the list grows long. It’s the best thing to do when you don’t want to.

There is nothing quite as sexy as a man who loves his wife.


Flowers are nice. Jewelry is grand.  But I prefer how he tells me a thousand ways without buying a thing or saying a word.

Wives, listen. Maybe you can hear it too.