Hi, I'm Brenna. And that's Jeff. We've been together for over 31 years, which is either a testament to true love or the fact that we genuinely enjoy annoying each other. Honestly, probably both.

We met through mutual friends on a visit to Charlotte. Spent the evening thoroughly getting on each other's nerves. And then somehow ended up at the Renaissance Festival together the very next day — which tells you everything you need to know about how God works, because that's exactly where everything changed.

The royal procession came through, everyone shuffled to the side, and suddenly I was standing next to Jeff. He said something that made me laugh despite myself, and in that exact moment I heard the Lord tell me clearly —

That's who you're going to marry.

I immediately told God that if He was going to speak to me that loudly, I'd really prefer it not be about Jeff.

He didn't listen. And I am so grateful.

Before everything changed

I grew up doing gymnastics and dancing. I cheered. I majored in Broadcast Communications at Elon University and landed my first real job at CNN. I was 26 years old, newly married to my best friend, still floating on the memory of our honeymoon in Hawaii — where we hiked Diamond Head and were handed certificates proving we made it to the top.

We got engaged at my favorite place on earth — Chimney Rock, North Carolina. Jeff had spent the weekend at Lake Lure Inn orchestrating what I now know is one of the greatest proposals in human history. A dozen long stem red roses delivered to the room. Champagne and Italian chocolates. A little stereo. A mix tape of all our favorite songs. And the red heart shaped candle I had given him for Valentine's Day the year before, that he had quietly kept and brought back for that exact moment.

I was completely blindsided. Mostly because I was busy photographing a dead mountain when he got down on one knee.

We got married on March 7, 1998. We honeymooned in Honolulu. We hiked volcanoes and snorkeled in Hanauma Bay and drove a convertible around the entire island with the top down. My best friend from high school was living there — her husband was stationed there — and it felt like the whole world was celebrating with us.

Life was full and bright and wide open.

Six days before our first anniversary

A few days after my 26th birthday, I noticed the tips of my fingers going numb. Then my toes. Then my entire left side felt like it had fallen asleep and simply wouldn't wake up.

A few weeks later, on March 1, 1999 — six days before our first wedding anniversary — a neurologist put my MRI images up on a light board, circled the lesions in red marker, and told me I had Multiple Sclerosis.

I didn't know anything about MS. I didn't know a single person who had it. My first question was "Is this deadly?"

When he said no, my immediate feeling was pure relief. Not for myself — but because I didn't have to go home and tell Jeff I was dying.

I went home and asked Jeff to come sit with me on the bed. I told him what they found. I said the words — Multiple Sclerosis.

He looked down. I watched him and thought he was going to cry. I hadn't cried yet, and his silence scared me a little.

Then he looked up, shrugged, and said —

"Well, at least we'll get good parking."

He told me that if I wanted to cry, we could. But he thought I'd prefer to laugh.

He was right. He has been right about that every single day since.

27 years later

MS has taken a lot. I went from gymnastics and hiking volcanoes to a wheelchair. From CNN to bed on the hard days. From the woman who earned a certificate at the top of Diamond Head on her honeymoon to someone who needs help with things I once never thought twice about.

I now have Secondary Progressive MS. The disease has advanced significantly. Some days are really, really hard.

And yet.

Jeff once told me during a particularly dark season that it would be so much easier to push me down the stairs now. I laughed until I cried. That's still us. That's still how we get through it — with humor, with honesty, and with a faith that has never once let us down.

We also adopted our son Daniel when he was seven years old. It was the second time in my life I heard the Lord speak with absolute clarity. In February 2024 we watched him marry his beautiful wife Tori, and I sat in my wheelchair in my mother of the bride dress surrounded by everyone I love and felt nothing but completely full.