𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒:𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟕, 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟕 – 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎

I had no idea this photo existed until a couple of days ago. A friend sent it to me, and there we were, sixteen years old, captured in a moment that would become the prologue to a once-in-a-lifetime love that would span four decades.

Receiving this picture feels like grace-saturated mercy, a poignant, tangible reminder that time passes, but love remains.

And what a love story it was.

Jimmy was home for me.
My fairytale.
My protector.
My soft place to fall.

He literally and figuratively walked roadside beside me,
ever vigilant,
always watching,
always shielding,
willing to take the hit if it would keep me safe.

He opened every door.
He prayed over me and for me.
He held my hand through hard seasons and blissful ones alike.
He made me laugh like no one else, and believed in me until I could believe in myself.

We were each other’s biggest fans.

His character was unassailable. His devotion to God, to people, to us, was steady, luminous, and unfaltering. He led with grace-tended strength and an “audience of One” humility born of a calling he never shirked nor took for granted.

He led by example, and I would have followed him anywhere.

He was my love, and I was his girl.

𝘞𝑒 𝑐𝘩𝑒𝘳𝑖𝘴ℎ𝘦𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑜𝘴𝑒 𝑡𝘪𝑡𝘭𝑒𝘴.

So today, I celebrate the life of this extraordinary man, Jimmy Carroll.

I celebrate the honor that was mine to belong to him, and the gift that was Austin’s, to have him not only for a dad, but a best friend.

The joy of what was and the ache of what remains feels especially near today, but that’s okay. To grieve him is my honor.

Blessed by Jimmy’s birth but still broken by his loss, I affirm what I always suspected: the grief that remains is worth every tear shed for the staggering but treasured privilege that was ours to call him ours.

How very blessed we were.

“When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.”
~ 𝐊𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐥 𝐆𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐧