Dear President Obama: An Invite to Our Wedding

Warren and I are getting married this September! It’s all very exciting/why is wedding planning stressful/when do I get to just dance and be the center of attention?

It also happens to be time for my 100th blog post on this little blog of mine. Yes! You read that right! This is my 100th blog post! How many have you read, 14? Read them all, what’s wrong with you.

I wanted my 100th blog post to be special and not just another Bachelorette recap (you know I love you, my Bachelorette recap readers). I also knew I needed to get cracking on sending President Obama an invitation to our wedding (duh).

So instead of just sending him a letter only an intern in the White House Correspondents Office will see, I wanted to share it with y’all, my lovely readers. Because nothing feels more appropriate for my 100th blog post than to spend it gushing about my two favorite things: Warren and Barack Obama. (Don’t worry, I got Beyoncé in there too.) (Sadly, no Ella, my actual favorite thing.)

Here’s my little love letter to the man who changed my life forever – well, one of the men who changed my life forever.

Dear President Obama,

My fiancé, Warren Thomas Flood, and I are getting married this September and I just couldn’t marry this man without sending you an invitation.

I want to invite you to our wedding not because I expect you to come, um hi you’re the President, but because I want you to know how important you are to each of us.

We would have never met if it wasn’t for you.

I often think about all the little choices we made even within the choice to work for you that made it possible for us to meet at the right time, then the wrong time, and finally the last time. I could have gone back to college right after I helped you turn Virginia blue for the first time in 44 years (hey, I increased the Democratic vote margin in my turf by 10 points, so I’m sure it was all me) instead of showing up in DC in December of 2008 and essentially refusing to leave until I got a job at Organizing for America. Or Warren could have stayed at the White House working for Vice President Biden instead of coming to the DNC to offer his help for the 2010 midterms, the most depressing election I’ve ever worked.

But magically, each of our little choices led us to the same place at the same time, working on the same little cramped platform at Organizing for America HQ in 2010.

I use the word magical not because I believe we aren’t in control of our own fate (though of course we can’t always be), but because that’s how I think of everything that happened to me while I was working for you.

It was magical when I showed up for what I thought would be a six week Obama for America Summer Fellowship that soon turned into a field organizing job, an opportunity to work on your Inaugural Committee, an internship with Organizing for America, and a chance to assist your two field warriors (Mitch Stewart and Jeremy Bird) for almost four years.

It was magical when I met an entire new family of passionate, smart, and loyal people who I will continue to love for the rest of my life. It was magical when I got my heart broken over and over by cute boys who worked for you (I’m one of those “it is better to have loved and lost” type of girls). It was magical when, as the resident conference call guru, I got to “introduce you” on conference calls, and it was magical when I got a hug from you the day after election day in 2012.

It was even magical when my parents found me sitting on the hood of my car making confirmation calls between sobs the night before election day in 2008. See, some of my volunteers were flaking and I felt for sure my failures were going to cost you the election. You and your team made me believe (and I still believe) that what I did would actually matter to the election, that I could make a difference, that if I stepped out from the sidelines to work side by side with my community that I would help America look more like what I wanted it to, that I would help make history happen.

You made my fiancé and me both feel that way.

We both were so excited about the chance to work for you that we changed our entire lives- him leaving his job in business consulting in Nevada to move to Chicago to become one of your data gurus (he’s going to hate that I used that phrase), me leaving college to work for you as long as I possibly could (don’t worry, I finally finished, a mere eight and half years after I started) (it was worth it).

And along the way, we found each other. Where else could a 34-year-old from Ajax, Ontario find and fall in love with a 22-year-old from Abilene, Texas?

I feel so lucky I found him, this intensely passionate, insanely smart, exasperatingly practical, ridiculously hardworking, and perfectly sweet fiancé of mine. I feel so lucky I got to be a part of the magic that brought me to him.

This magic, your movement that is, is the defining magic of my lifetime. I know that when I hopefully get to make beautiful babies with this fiancé of mine, I’ll be more proud of them than I could ever imagine. And I know that the magic in my life isn’t over yet—there will be more.

But every bit of magic that comes next in my life all started because of you– because you spoke directly to my heart at the DNC convention in 2004; because I had parents who supported me and believed in me enough to encourage me to take time away from college to help your movement; because if I worked hard enough, I always had a spot on your team; because someone who believed in you just as much as I did showed up two chairs away from me in September 2010; because when life would pull us apart, working for you would always bring us back together; and because without you, we wouldn’t be committing to love each other the rest of our lives this September.

So thank you. Thank you for inspiring a generation to take ownership over the direction of their country. Thank you for winning, twice. Thank you for every little thing you’ve done to make our country more compassionate and more fair. And thank you for leading me to my husband.

I know you’ll be busy this September, but even though I’ll have to check “No” next to your name in my RSVP spreadsheet, your presence and your magic will still be with us all day.

Thank you for everything. And good luck – you’re so close to getting to read as much as you want, the best life.



P.S. If you’re feeling sorry you can’t come, feel free to send your close friend Beyoncé in your place. I love her almost as much as I love you!


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