Soon after arriving at the fellowship of college and career people, it was discovered that the lid on my baked beans was stuck fast, and I mean REALLY stuck fast! No one could budge it, and it was the joke of the evening. It was all in good fun, and after much prying some was eventually to be tasted, but not so much enjoyed. The fellowship was uneventful otherwise, small talk, bible study, worship, discussion, and then it was time to say good-night. Michael and I climbed back in his car, sticky glass dish in hand, and I sighed to realize our time together was coming to an end, and we really hadn't had the chance to really chat. He must have been feeling the same, and asked if I would mind stopping at Burger King for a soda.
We shared a large Coke, and fries, and talked BK closed, then we drove to the Lexington dam, and talked some more. We broke the cardinal rule of talking about old flames on the first date, and laid it all on the table. We talked about our families, jobs, favorites, dislikes, pet peeves, childhood stories, memories both good and bad, dreams, plans, faith, we talked about it all, and somewhere between the words, and the laughter, we fell in love.
I returned home that night floating on a cloud of disbelief, knowing that the Lord had handed me a very special gift, and I immediately thanked Him for it. Michael called his Mother that night and told her he had met the girl of his dreams. The next morning he picked me up for church, and we worshiped together, this time in the same pew. We had lunch together at Ryan's, and then spent the rest of the afternoon getting to know each other even more. There was never an awkward silence, no red flags of distrust, or unsettled feelings. I was completely comfortable with him, and I wanted to hear and understand everything he communicated to me. He led us in prayer, and enjoyed talking about spiritual things, and I couldn't believe how God had blessed me. From that first date, we spent every moment together that we could.
Our courtship lasted 3 years and 8 months before we blissfully exchanged wedding vows on a warm evening in November. I could probably get to "Our Story part 86" writing every thing that happened in that time, but that would bore the three people reading. In hindsight it was crazy that we waited so long before we married, considering we both knew on that first date that the other was "the one". We took road trips to Greenville to meet Michael's Mom and extended family on Easter, Hilton Head to meet his Dadand his wife Susan and their two children, and Michaels Grandma Dee, Michigan, to meet my siblings and their families, and a few old friends, all in those first few weeks and months. I left for that far away school in Florida that next fall, because I thought that was what the Lord told me to do before our meeting, so I felt I had to go. I only completed one semester of Hell before returning to Lexington, a semester full of florist flowers, daily letter writing, and long distance phone calls. Those were the days before e-mail, and cell phones. Shortly after returning, Michael took a job in North Carolina, working on top of Sugar Mountain, that meant more letters, and more phone calls. Because of those circumstances, ours was mostly a long distance relationship. The Lord used that time to grow me up, and teach me a lot of important life lessons.
I am so very grateful for the gift of Michael, and although it is not an amazing story, or particularly riveting, it is our story. It was, and has continued to be for many years, a story of God's faithfulness, provision, and love. We will celebrate 25 years of marriage this coming November, and I would do it all over again if I had the chance. We have the most amazing relationship, and although it sounds incredibly cliche' Michael completes me. Our God brought us together, He has sustained us through much heartache, and He has blessed us beyond measure. To Him be the Glory!
Showing posts with label Our Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Our Story. Show all posts
Monday, March 28, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
Our story part five
With out my knowledge, the man I would later learn preferred to be called Michael, had been sitting a few rows behind me in church for four weeks before our “chance” meeting at the sanctuaries front! He had been observing me, and trying to work up the courage to speak to me. In our brief conversation that day in the lobby of first Baptist, I learned he had quit the University to work full time on a real estate project of town homes there in Lexington. That would explain why I never met him all those cold mornings on campus, I thought. We exchanged very little information in our short dialogue, and he ended the pleasantries with “well, maybe we can have lunch sometime”. I remember walking away thinking to myself, how lame, lunch sometime??? Seriously? He is obviously not interested, lunch, nobody that says” let’s have lunch sometime” ever REALLY has lunch, and besides that, he doesn’t even have my number, how is he going to call me?
Eleven days later his voice was on the other end of the telephone line. He had spent the previous weekend at a Christian conference, and was anxious to share with me what he had learned. His voice was strong, and sure, and he talked as if he already knew me. "We can call him Abba Father” he explained with emotion, “that is like saying Daddy, Daddy, and climbing up into his arms of safety”, I remember his excitement. It was as if it was not really a new concept to him, but as if it had just become alive in his heart. I was hooked on his enthusiasm over a spiritual concept, and blown away that he was so open and honest about his “experience”.
Then it came... his invitation for dinner the next evening. My spirits shrank, I had already accepted a date with a boy for that night, “well” he rebounded quickly,” how about lunch?” Oh, how embarrassing, I had already agreed to tennis with Rob. I explained apologetically, then without hesitation, I invited him to join me for a college and career fellowship at the teachers house the next night, Saturday. He agreed, and we settled on a time for him to pick me up as I gave him directions to my house on Summerfield lane. I was so glad that my silly insignificant social schedule with those boys hadn’t prevented him from making plans with me.
Fridayflew by as I floated on cloud nine, and dreamed about my date with Mike. He was a great looking man, seemed to love the Lord, and wasn’t the least bit afraid to speak of it. By my account he was my dream come true. I couldn’t wait for Saturday night’s fellowship, so I could get to know more about this guy.
On that evening I chose to wear my black velvet Calvin Klein’s, and I remember spending a lot of time on my hair. I do remember that I wasn’t very nervous though, considering how excited I was. He came to the door just as I was pulling the baked beans I had made to bring to the fellowship, out of the oven. I noticed his bright smile as he entered the kitchen; he was so confident and friendly, as he chatted with my mom. He told me I looked nice, and his big brown eyes sparkled, then we were off, the two of us, and my baked beans.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Our story part four
I was not aware that my mystery man had dropped out of college to run a town home development full time. He was not aware that I had quit my job as a pizza server to lead women in aerobics to the beat of "it's raining men". So while I sat on a cold brick wall on the campus of USC hoping for a "chance" meeting, he continued to order pizza in hopes of spying his new favorite waitress.
As days turned into weeks, the semester changed, and so did my class schedule. I eventually gave up my quest for the stone khaki clad prep, and other boys came a calling. I dated muscle man Mark, the older brother of a high school friend for a few weeks, only to determine that he was a very nice boy, but not for me. There was Rob, a boy whose father worked at the same plant mine did, and who had come to the south under the same circumstances. We had several lunch dates, and he had been a good friend, but that was all I saw him as. Rafe was a boy from the hut, that never really asked me out, but asked for rides to school sometimes, and we had spent some time together at his house.
The Lord continued to work in my heart, as I sought him and his plan for my life. Months prior to this my mother and I had visited a college in Florida that I was interested in attending. I felt like God was calling me there, and was saving and planning for that to happen the next fall. That was seven or eight months out, and I was looking forward to that change. I had spent the last eight months grieving the deaths of two very important parts of my identity.
The death of the relationship to my high school sweetheart was painful, although I had accepted that a future with him would have been a disaster, and that it was truly God's will that I move on, and I was grateful.
It was clear to me at that point that he would not have been the spiritual leader that I longed for in a life mate.
The death of my parents relationship however was not something I was learning to accept. I could not see God's hand in that fatality, and I was growing bitter and uncomfortable in my roll as a daughter. The holidays had been pitiful, as my thanksgiving was a Burger King whopper alone in my bedroom, and my Christmas had been a painful attempt at a insincere reconciliation. I felt abandoned by my older siblings, and often felt like I was bearing the burden alone. My Dad was like a walking dead man, and I longed for the stability that he had always been for me. I watched as the Mom I knew wasted away, plagued with a chronic nervous cough, and I was being used as both a confidante and a sounding board, caught in the middle of their pain. I hate to admit it, but I longed to escape, and an out of state college sounded like a good option.
I was getting more involved in the college and career group at Lexington Baptist, and we were getting together as a group every weekend for food and fellowship. Between school, and work, church, and my social life, I was a busy girl. Spring was fast approaching, and my second semester was in full swing. It had been three months since the night I met the mystery man.
One Sunday morning as the service came to a close, I reached for my purse and bible, and as I rose to leave I glanced up to see Steve and Kathy at the front of the sanctuary. It had been a while since we had talked, so I decided to go up and say hello. As I approached I noticed there talking to them was a man whose back was toward me. Kathy warmly smiled at me, and welcomed me into their circle. I turned, and there he was, a heavenly chorus broke out that all of Lexington county could surely hear, as Kathy introduced Mike, the man they had tried to set up with Steve's sister....her voice trailed off as our eyes met. "Aren't you the girl from Pizza Hut" he asked, smoothly. "yeah" I replied, "I waited on you."
to be continued
click
for part one
for part two
for part three
As days turned into weeks, the semester changed, and so did my class schedule. I eventually gave up my quest for the stone khaki clad prep, and other boys came a calling. I dated muscle man Mark, the older brother of a high school friend for a few weeks, only to determine that he was a very nice boy, but not for me. There was Rob, a boy whose father worked at the same plant mine did, and who had come to the south under the same circumstances. We had several lunch dates, and he had been a good friend, but that was all I saw him as. Rafe was a boy from the hut, that never really asked me out, but asked for rides to school sometimes, and we had spent some time together at his house.
The Lord continued to work in my heart, as I sought him and his plan for my life. Months prior to this my mother and I had visited a college in Florida that I was interested in attending. I felt like God was calling me there, and was saving and planning for that to happen the next fall. That was seven or eight months out, and I was looking forward to that change. I had spent the last eight months grieving the deaths of two very important parts of my identity.
The death of the relationship to my high school sweetheart was painful, although I had accepted that a future with him would have been a disaster, and that it was truly God's will that I move on, and I was grateful.
It was clear to me at that point that he would not have been the spiritual leader that I longed for in a life mate.
The death of my parents relationship however was not something I was learning to accept. I could not see God's hand in that fatality, and I was growing bitter and uncomfortable in my roll as a daughter. The holidays had been pitiful, as my thanksgiving was a Burger King whopper alone in my bedroom, and my Christmas had been a painful attempt at a insincere reconciliation. I felt abandoned by my older siblings, and often felt like I was bearing the burden alone. My Dad was like a walking dead man, and I longed for the stability that he had always been for me. I watched as the Mom I knew wasted away, plagued with a chronic nervous cough, and I was being used as both a confidante and a sounding board, caught in the middle of their pain. I hate to admit it, but I longed to escape, and an out of state college sounded like a good option.
I was getting more involved in the college and career group at Lexington Baptist, and we were getting together as a group every weekend for food and fellowship. Between school, and work, church, and my social life, I was a busy girl. Spring was fast approaching, and my second semester was in full swing. It had been three months since the night I met the mystery man.
One Sunday morning as the service came to a close, I reached for my purse and bible, and as I rose to leave I glanced up to see Steve and Kathy at the front of the sanctuary. It had been a while since we had talked, so I decided to go up and say hello. As I approached I noticed there talking to them was a man whose back was toward me. Kathy warmly smiled at me, and welcomed me into their circle. I turned, and there he was, a heavenly chorus broke out that all of Lexington county could surely hear, as Kathy introduced Mike, the man they had tried to set up with Steve's sister....her voice trailed off as our eyes met. "Aren't you the girl from Pizza Hut" he asked, smoothly. "yeah" I replied, "I waited on you."
to be continued
click
for part one
for part two
for part three
Monday, March 7, 2011
Our story part three
After taking the food order of the two young men, I delivered their drinks. Water for the one on the left, and Michelob lite for the one on the right. Small talk ensued, and the one on the left asked if I was in school. It was about this time that the guy on the right seemed to disappear, I don't remember much else about him from that evening after this point.
"Yes", I replied, "I'm a freshman at USC". I cringed, knowing what the next question would be.
"Oh" he said pleasantly, "me too, what is your major?" I stuttered a bit, I hated to share my major. It had never occurred to me when I had enrolled as an art major just a few months before, that I would ever be ashamed to be associated with the art department. "I'm an Art major", I haltingly revealed, "but don't hold that against me." They both laughed out loud, knowing instantly what I meant. It was well known back in the early eighties that if you saw someone on the gamecock campus that, well, that stuck out in the way of purple hair, excessive tattoos and or earrings, or just outlandish clothing, then nine times out of ten they were most likely an art major. I returned the question and found out he was a business major. After more small talk it was determined that we had 8am classes in the same building on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. "Maybe we'll see each other on campus someday", he remarked. Soon their pizza was up, and the small talk was over, as I left them to enjoy their late lunch. On my way back to the wait station to freshen their drinks, I glanced back at the table. The young man on the left was praying over his meal.
While they ate, I shamelessly re-wiped the surrounding tables hoping to catch some small snippet of their conversation. When I delivered their bill, I signed their ticket, as I did everyone, "It was a pleasure serving you, amy", but this time I really meant it.
While they ate, I shamelessly re-wiped the surrounding tables hoping to catch some small snippet of their conversation. When I delivered their bill, I signed their ticket, as I did everyone, "It was a pleasure serving you, amy", but this time I really meant it.
I took a longer look at the young man as he stood at the register waiting to pay. He had very broad shoulders, and a large build, and he stood straight and tall with a very confident gate. His auburn hair was cut short, but appeared to be very curly. He wore stone colored flat front trousers, with cordovan penny loafers, and matching thin leather belt. His shirt was a light blue pinpoint button down oxford polo. His smile was easy, and he engaged the manager in conversation at the register. I remember in that moment thinking that there was a special place in my future for that man, and although I tend to think love at first sight is most usually vanity at best, and dangerous at worst, if there is such thing as love at first meeting, then this was surely the case. He smiled a goodbye as he passed me on his way out, and left a very generous tip on the table to seal my affections. It would be some time before I would see the young man again.
That evening I returned home to find my aunt Eileen and uncle Roy visiting my mom from Muskegon Michigan. I told them all about the handsome man I had met at work, and as I remember, my mom was unusually interested. Perhaps it was obvious that there was something different about this chance meeting. As a waitress you hear it all, from seemingly harmless obnoxious flirtation to beer induced marriage proposals. She had heard me relay them all, complete with eye rolls, and feigned humiliation. This time the story was not littered with insincere flattery, or sordid innuendo, it wasn't anything really, but a chance meeting, containing harmless small talk, and punctuated with a good looking, nice guy at the end, but for me, I hoped it was anything but insignificant.
The problems at work had grown worse, and I was offered a job at the women's health club Spa Lady, that my mom and I frequented. I jumped at the chance to get out of waitressing, and although it was nice to not spend those long late hours on my feet any more, now I was teaching three or four aerobic classes a day. It was a challenging job, and I was exhausted at the end of a shift, but I completely enjoyed it.
The weeks that followed found me shivering in unusually cold South Carolina mornings, outside my 8:00 class building. Every Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, I sat on the low brick wall surrounding the old building that housed my French class, hoping for a glimpse of the nice young man to whom I had served pizza.
to be continued
Monday, February 28, 2011
Our story part two
I was beginning to formulate in my mind what I should be looking for in a mate. The Lord was teaching me through my observations of Steve and Kathy's Christian marriage, and the negative relationship I had experienced with my former boyfriend. I didn't desire only a church attender, but someone who loved the Lord, not just a protector, but someone who would nurture my spiritual life, not merely an escape from my situation at home, but someone with whom to create a home and family. I was also beginning to think that perhaps it wasn't a boy I needed at all, but that the Lord would be all those things for me, and more. I grew closer to Him, and desired a future with Him at the helm. The Lord had brought me to a place where I felt really alone, and it was to Him that I cried, and for Him that I longed.
My life in Lexington was busy. I worked often, and late, sometimes pulling all nighters after my shifts, to complete the projects for my classes at USC. My art history class was incredibly difficult, held in a dark auditorium full of hundreds of students. I never even saw the teacher up close, as I was assigned a seat in the back. She literally spent the entire class time flicking through slide after slide of art, spouting off dates and long Italian names and places, as we all furiously struggled to take impossible notes. The tests might as well have been in Latin for all I knew of the content, and I was struggling to keep my nose above water. My English class was just as impersonal, but the work was easy compared to my high school AP class. Beginning painting was a breeze, as was anthropology, but French was more of a challenge. My first semester was winding down, and I was ready for it to be over.
My job at Pizza Hut was becoming increasingly stressful. The other employees were living lives very different from my own. Although a few of the girls there would meet me at the gym, or chat with me over lunch, and were sometimes receptive when I tried to share my faith, they were a typical party crowd, and they knew I was not interested in participating. They teased me often about my "goody two shoes ways", which didn't really bother me much, but the s*e*x*ual innuendo from the guys did. Most of the males there were much older then me, and some even sought to protect me, but there was one man named Eric that was becoming increasingly bold in his conversation, and invading my personal space. I tried to make it completely clear that I was not interested, but it never deterred him. He was a strong man, very good looking, and used to getting his way. He was also in authority over me as a manager. I never feared for my safety, as I should have, because I was just that naive, but his advances did make me uncomfortable and confused. I wasn't sure how to handle the issue, or who to talk to about it.
The Saturday afternoon shift at the Hut was the slowest, and least desirable, because no customers meant no tips. One particular Saturday afternoon I was getting ahead so I could leave just as soon as my shift ended. I was doing all the necessary responsibilities, filling the salt and pepper, Parmesan and red pepper flake containers between taking orders, and just basically leaving things ready for the busier evening shift. I was totally unsuspecting that my life was about to change.
My co-worker was seating the patrons as I checked the contents at the salad bar. She chose to seat the late lunchers at my station. At the two person booth next to the far window, were two nice looking young men, nicely dressed, smiling and chatting, and studying their menus.
to be continued
My life in Lexington was busy. I worked often, and late, sometimes pulling all nighters after my shifts, to complete the projects for my classes at USC. My art history class was incredibly difficult, held in a dark auditorium full of hundreds of students. I never even saw the teacher up close, as I was assigned a seat in the back. She literally spent the entire class time flicking through slide after slide of art, spouting off dates and long Italian names and places, as we all furiously struggled to take impossible notes. The tests might as well have been in Latin for all I knew of the content, and I was struggling to keep my nose above water. My English class was just as impersonal, but the work was easy compared to my high school AP class. Beginning painting was a breeze, as was anthropology, but French was more of a challenge. My first semester was winding down, and I was ready for it to be over.
My job at Pizza Hut was becoming increasingly stressful. The other employees were living lives very different from my own. Although a few of the girls there would meet me at the gym, or chat with me over lunch, and were sometimes receptive when I tried to share my faith, they were a typical party crowd, and they knew I was not interested in participating. They teased me often about my "goody two shoes ways", which didn't really bother me much, but the s*e*x*ual innuendo from the guys did. Most of the males there were much older then me, and some even sought to protect me, but there was one man named Eric that was becoming increasingly bold in his conversation, and invading my personal space. I tried to make it completely clear that I was not interested, but it never deterred him. He was a strong man, very good looking, and used to getting his way. He was also in authority over me as a manager. I never feared for my safety, as I should have, because I was just that naive, but his advances did make me uncomfortable and confused. I wasn't sure how to handle the issue, or who to talk to about it.
The Saturday afternoon shift at the Hut was the slowest, and least desirable, because no customers meant no tips. One particular Saturday afternoon I was getting ahead so I could leave just as soon as my shift ended. I was doing all the necessary responsibilities, filling the salt and pepper, Parmesan and red pepper flake containers between taking orders, and just basically leaving things ready for the busier evening shift. I was totally unsuspecting that my life was about to change.
My co-worker was seating the patrons as I checked the contents at the salad bar. She chose to seat the late lunchers at my station. At the two person booth next to the far window, were two nice looking young men, nicely dressed, smiling and chatting, and studying their menus.
to be continued
Monday, February 21, 2011
Our story part one
It was 1983, and I was just 18, and in my first semester as an art major at the University of South Carolina. I was commuting about 40 minutes from home to attend college during the day, and spent most evenings and weekends serving up Delicious pizza at the hut in small town Lexington. I had only been in the south for just over a year, as my father had been transferred the summer before my senior year of high school and my parents and I had made the move from the cold snowy dunes of western Michigan, to the buckle of the bible belt in South Carolina.
It had been a year of complete culture shock as even the "language" seemed foreign at the time. As the "new" girl in a high school where my graduating class had more students then my entire former school had, both Jr. and Sr. high combined, I received a lot of attention. My clothes were different, my hair wasn't as big, I didn't carry a "pocket book", and I talked funny! Everybody said "yes ma'm" or "yes, sir" when addressing any adult, the halls were a chime with "hey" instead of "hi", it was y'all instead of you guys, "pop" became "soda", and when they asked to "hold" my homework, they really meant copy it! I will never forget the first time my new boyfriend asked if he could "carry" me home, and I laughed and said "well,I guess, but that's a long way, don't you think you might get tired?".
Just a few weeks after graduation my parents chose to separate after more then 30 years of marriage. Because I had been so very self absorbed at this point in my life, the separation had come as a total and complete shock to me. I hadn't even suspected that things were not right between my parents. All of my siblings were miles away, and the heart break I was feeling over my parents had become overwhelming at times. Just a few months later my heart was broken a second time by the boy I had hoped to one day marry. I had invested most of my senior year to that relationship, and although many people knew me, I had failed to make any real close girlfriends. My parents had always provided a very secure and happy home for me. I was the baby of the family, and had enjoyed the pampering and attention that came with that role. I had never endured any kind of hardship or even real disappointment before, and I now I was feeling very, very, alone.
As a freshman in college, I was being pursued by a few different very nice Christian guys, but I was not particularly interested in any of them. I didn't really hold out much hope that I would ever find the man of my dreams, so I had stopped "looking".
Steve Boyd was my youth pastor at the time, and he and his sweet bride Kathy had taken me under their wings in recent months. They would invite me over to their lovely home to eat, or to play board games. They would often call and check in on me. I am sure from the outside they saw a young girl who was a bit lost, and beat down, and they were just trying to reach out, and minister to their little Yankee friend. They treated me as their equal, and not like a child, and that felt incredibly good.
Steve had a beautiful green eyed red headed sister, who was barrelling head first into the mission field of China, and they invited me to come to her "going away" festivities. Kathy had confided in me that she and Steve had met this great Christian man named Mike at a real estate project when they had toured some town homes recently, and that they hoped to introduce he and Steve's sister to one another that night. I remember her saying that just because of his demeanor, they suspected, and then asked, if he was a believer. He answered with a hearty YES, and after a few good conversations with him, Kathy said, she and Steve were both convinced that this man Mike, and Steve's pretty sibling (can you believe I can't remember her name?), were made for each other! Their secret plan was to invite the young man to the party, and happily watch the sparks fly, only to seal the deal so that the sister would soon be accompanied in far away asialand by a suitable mate, and they would "mission" together, and surely live happily ever after. They had it ALL figured out how the Lord would take care of the green eyed beauty.
Our small crowd met at a nice darkly lit restaurant in Columbia, with candles at every cloth covered table, and although I don't remember much else about that evening, I do remember that the mystery man never showed up. So the pretty red head flew off into the wild blue yonder alone, to the sound of our humble rendition of "friends" by Michael W. Smith, and I went back to delivering ice cold beverages to hungry pizza eating customers, and finding my way in the enormous sea of USC students, studying "art", with purple haired, classmates with earrings and tattoos, in my perfect Calvin Klein jeans and shoulder pads.
to be continued
It had been a year of complete culture shock as even the "language" seemed foreign at the time. As the "new" girl in a high school where my graduating class had more students then my entire former school had, both Jr. and Sr. high combined, I received a lot of attention. My clothes were different, my hair wasn't as big, I didn't carry a "pocket book", and I talked funny! Everybody said "yes ma'm" or "yes, sir" when addressing any adult, the halls were a chime with "hey" instead of "hi", it was y'all instead of you guys, "pop" became "soda", and when they asked to "hold" my homework, they really meant copy it! I will never forget the first time my new boyfriend asked if he could "carry" me home, and I laughed and said "well,I guess, but that's a long way, don't you think you might get tired?".
Just a few weeks after graduation my parents chose to separate after more then 30 years of marriage. Because I had been so very self absorbed at this point in my life, the separation had come as a total and complete shock to me. I hadn't even suspected that things were not right between my parents. All of my siblings were miles away, and the heart break I was feeling over my parents had become overwhelming at times. Just a few months later my heart was broken a second time by the boy I had hoped to one day marry. I had invested most of my senior year to that relationship, and although many people knew me, I had failed to make any real close girlfriends. My parents had always provided a very secure and happy home for me. I was the baby of the family, and had enjoyed the pampering and attention that came with that role. I had never endured any kind of hardship or even real disappointment before, and I now I was feeling very, very, alone.
As a freshman in college, I was being pursued by a few different very nice Christian guys, but I was not particularly interested in any of them. I didn't really hold out much hope that I would ever find the man of my dreams, so I had stopped "looking".
Steve Boyd was my youth pastor at the time, and he and his sweet bride Kathy had taken me under their wings in recent months. They would invite me over to their lovely home to eat, or to play board games. They would often call and check in on me. I am sure from the outside they saw a young girl who was a bit lost, and beat down, and they were just trying to reach out, and minister to their little Yankee friend. They treated me as their equal, and not like a child, and that felt incredibly good.
Steve had a beautiful green eyed red headed sister, who was barrelling head first into the mission field of China, and they invited me to come to her "going away" festivities. Kathy had confided in me that she and Steve had met this great Christian man named Mike at a real estate project when they had toured some town homes recently, and that they hoped to introduce he and Steve's sister to one another that night. I remember her saying that just because of his demeanor, they suspected, and then asked, if he was a believer. He answered with a hearty YES, and after a few good conversations with him, Kathy said, she and Steve were both convinced that this man Mike, and Steve's pretty sibling (can you believe I can't remember her name?), were made for each other! Their secret plan was to invite the young man to the party, and happily watch the sparks fly, only to seal the deal so that the sister would soon be accompanied in far away asialand by a suitable mate, and they would "mission" together, and surely live happily ever after. They had it ALL figured out how the Lord would take care of the green eyed beauty.
Our small crowd met at a nice darkly lit restaurant in Columbia, with candles at every cloth covered table, and although I don't remember much else about that evening, I do remember that the mystery man never showed up. So the pretty red head flew off into the wild blue yonder alone, to the sound of our humble rendition of "friends" by Michael W. Smith, and I went back to delivering ice cold beverages to hungry pizza eating customers, and finding my way in the enormous sea of USC students, studying "art", with purple haired, classmates with earrings and tattoos, in my perfect Calvin Klein jeans and shoulder pads.
to be continued
Monday, February 14, 2011
"Our Story" introduction
"I want to marry a man just like Daddy" said my brown eyed 11 year old side kick, from the passenger seat.
"Well, choose well then" I entreated, "choose well."
But then as quickly as those words crossed the thresh hold of my lips, came the reminder from my heavenly Father that my love was not chosen, but given, as a gift... in spite of myself.
I have recently read several "love stories" on blogs of younger newly married women. Their romances are fresh, their stories are recent, and their unions, although not usually seasoned by the hard stuff of life just yet, are beautiful. Most of those that I have read, have been surprised by love, and reveal in the words of their stories their gratefulness to God for the gift they have been given. I love to read their stories, and hear the varied ways that God knits families together.
I have not had the opportunity to read any "stories" from older woman, accept for Monica's online match-up, who is not at all old, just no longer considered a newlywed, and inasmuch as I would not yet categorize myself as that just yet....ahem (old I mean)! I do have a story.
My love is not fresh, although it feels new every day, and it is not recent, nearly 28 years young actually, but it is miles deep, and fire tested, and sumptuously seasoned by some relatively hard stuff, and it is indeed exquisitely beautiful.
"Well, choose well then" I entreated, "choose well."
But then as quickly as those words crossed the thresh hold of my lips, came the reminder from my heavenly Father that my love was not chosen, but given, as a gift... in spite of myself.
I have recently read several "love stories" on blogs of younger newly married women. Their romances are fresh, their stories are recent, and their unions, although not usually seasoned by the hard stuff of life just yet, are beautiful. Most of those that I have read, have been surprised by love, and reveal in the words of their stories their gratefulness to God for the gift they have been given. I love to read their stories, and hear the varied ways that God knits families together.
I have not had the opportunity to read any "stories" from older woman, accept for Monica's online match-up, who is not at all old, just no longer considered a newlywed, and inasmuch as I would not yet categorize myself as that just yet....ahem (old I mean)! I do have a story.
My love is not fresh, although it feels new every day, and it is not recent, nearly 28 years young actually, but it is miles deep, and fire tested, and sumptuously seasoned by some relatively hard stuff, and it is indeed exquisitely beautiful.
So today, on this Valentines day I want to thank the Lord for the gift that is my husband, and tell him publicly how very much I do love him, and how grateful that I am for my story, our story.
I love you boyfriend!
And also I thought it fitting that I would write our story out, not because I would ever forget even a tiny morsel of the miracle that it was, but simply because I want to share with you, and with my children, and someday perhaps, with their children, the miracle that is our love.
It is my intention to write "Our Story" every Monday, until it's completion up to the wedding day, and I hope you will come back and visit. I would also LOVE to take the opportunity to encourage some of my fellow "older" bloggers to share their stories, so come on Char, Audrey, Jolie, Michelle, Hannah, Danielle, Ginger, etc...we would love to hear some of your stories.
Happy Valentines day!
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