When I married Emily, who lost the ability to walk as a child, I vowed to love her through every season. Her spirit, humor, and strength have always made her my heart, partner, and greatest blessing. Yet some focus only on what she can’t do.
At a family dinner, my sister announced her wedding but excluded Emily, saying she wanted me “free” to help without “carrying my wife around.” She suggested I should’ve chosen someone “easier.” My parents stayed silent; Emily hid her hurt.
I calmly replied, “Emily is my wife and joy. If she’s not welcome, neither am I.” Silence fell. My parents apologized for not speaking up. Emily’s hand on mine said everything.
We left with dignity. Days later, my sister called in tears, apologized directly to Emily, and was forgiven with grace. Now, she’s chosen an accessible venue and invited Emily into the ceremony.
Strength isn’t in standing, but in loving—and Emily stands tallest.
