Who Would’ve Thought?
Who would’ve thought?
Surely not us.
Sarah and I came from different backgrounds, different friend groups, different activities, and different seasons of life. But somehow, God put us together.
Not through a detailed life plan. Not through a strategy session. Not through a roadmap with milestones, KPIs, and quarterly check-ins.
We met in a square dance group.
Yes, square dancing.
Apparently, God has a sense of humor and better planning skills than the rest of us because we have not squared danced since.
We were placed in the same group because we had each missed practice and were assigned together. It may not sound like the start of a great love story, but looking back, it was the first step in a life neither of us could have imagined.
Then came the high school talent show. I still remember having the courage to walk over, climb across a few rows, and sit right next to Sarah.
That one small decision started something big.
Five years of dating. High school graduation. Two different universities, just one hour apart.
And then, 30 years ago, on June 22, 1996, Sarah and I were married in front of our family and friends.
Our ceremony was officiated by my father-in-law, Skip, and his good friend Bruce. That day, Skip said something I will never forget.
As he handed his daughter to me, he said, “Carl, this is not a loan.”
Thirty years later, I understand it much better.
Sarah was not on loan. Marriage was not temporary. This was not something to maintain only when it was easy, convenient, or going according to plan.
It was a commitment. And 30 years later, that commitment has been maintained.
Not perfectly.
But faithfully.
Built One Day at a Time
A 30-year marriage sounds like a big thing. And it is.
But it is not built in one big moment.
It is built one day at a time. One choice at a time. One conversation at a time. One apology at a time. One laugh at a time. One “we’ll figure it out” at a time.
Sarah and I have raised four kids together. We have enjoyed celebrations, overcome obstacles, watched endless sporting events, and endured tragedy.
And I do mean endless sporting events.
The bleachers, folding chairs, early mornings, late nights, tournament weekends, and concession stand dinners all became part of the story.
So did the wins, the losses, the car rides home, the prayers, the laughter, and the quiet moments when no one else sees what it takes to keep going.
No marriage gets 30 years of only highlight reels. Every long-term relationship has storms. The question is whether you will keep holding hands when they do.
The Strategy Was Commitment
In business, I often say strategy is not meant to be put in a binder and collect dust on your bookshelf. Strategy is active. It changes as life changes.
Marriage is the same way.
When Sarah and I got married, we had dreams, hopes, and a general direction. But we did not know what the next 30 years would bring.
We did not know every challenge, every opportunity, or what parenting four children would teach us.
But we knew this: we were committed.
That commitment has been the strategy.
Not perfection. Not having every answer. Not always agreeing at the exact same time.
Just commitment.
A decision, made over and over again, to keep choosing each other.
Sarah has been the steady hand through so many seasons. She showed up, paid attention, cared about the details that mattered, and helped build the foundation our four children stand on today.
The Lesson for Business Owners
A strong marriage and a strong business both require commitment, trust, communication, forgiveness, and the ability to adjust when the plan changes.
Many business owners are working hard. It's really hard. But hard work without clarity can cost you the very things you say matter most: your marriage, your family, your health, your faith, and your joy.
That is why strategy matters. Not because business is the most important thing, but because a better business should help support a better life.
May It Never End
Today, as I look back, I still find myself saying:
Who would’ve thought?
Who would have thought that a square dance group and a high school talent show would lead to 30 years of marriage, four children, countless memories, and a life we are deeply grateful for?
But here we are.
And as that same father-in-law, Skip, who is now living nearby, has often said:
“May it never end.”
That is how I feel about my marriage with Sarah.
May it never end.
The laughter. The adventure. The faith. The family. The shared memories. The commitment. The love.
Thirty years later, I am grateful for Sarah, our children, the life we have built, the lessons learned the hard way, and the grace that has carried us.
So this week, take a moment to appreciate the people walking the road with you.
Tell them. Show them. Thank them.
Because no strategy matters more than the life you are building with the people you love most.
