A Quiet Morning at Turkey Mountain

Long before vows, Laurie loved running trails by night. Headlamp on, world quiet, Tulsa glowing just enough in the distance. She even tried taunting David into joining her—buying him a headlamp and gift-wrapping it in bright pink paper, a not-so-subtle invitation to get him more involved in the trail scene.

While converting David into a trail runner didn’t work, the relationship lasted. And that felt like the better win.

On a cold, quiet Sunday morning in February, we took to Turkey Mountain with no crowd, no fanfare, and no schedule to keep. Just Laurie, David, a dear friend to perform the ceremony, and 2 witnesses. The kind of morning where the trail is still, the air feels honest, and the world gives you space to say what matters.

Turkey Mountain isn’t just a backdrop for us. It’s a touchstone. A place that holds Laurie’s history and the early days of Laurie and David’s relationship—long walks, first conversations, the slow realization that this was something lasting. The kind of place that knows you before you know yourself.

Years later, when Turkey Mountain was threatened with retail development, it became Laurie’s mission to help save it. That story—of advocacy, community, and protecting wild places—deserves its own telling. This one is about something quieter, but no less powerful.

When Love Meets Logistics

This is a story about adapting.

Our original plan was an international commitment ceremony—a spring celebration paired with a honeymoon abroad. A moment to mark this chapter intentionally, surrounded by travel, meaning, and time.

But second marriages and international requirements have a way of reshaping even the best-laid plans. We learned quickly that the biggest thing we didn’t have wasn’t intention or enthusiasm.

It was time.

At the same moment, shifting systems and practical realities nudged our timeline forward. Waiting—romantic as it might sound—was no longer the right fit. So we made a small, intentional change that kept everything else moving.

Married, by Every Power That Be

And so, on that cold February morning, we stood on familiar ground and made it official. No spectacle. No delay. Just clarity, commitment, and a shared understanding that love doesn’t lose meaning when plans change.

Pivot!

So yes—the plans set in place for an international elopement march on. The spring commitment ceremony and honeymoon are still ahead of us, still intentional, still ours.

But now, as the vows say, with healthcare.

Because sometimes marriage is poetry. Sometimes it’s logistics. And sometimes it’s both—spoken quietly on a trail, on a Sunday morning in February, exactly where we were meant to be.