My
husband just had his birthday. A big, important birthday. One of
those with a '0' at the end of it. I won't mention which one because,
to be honest, I reached that mark a year and a half before he did. He
keeps trying to catch up, but no success yet.
A
long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, in the midst of one of
those full-blown college girl frenzies caused by (of course) college
boys, I cried out to God, “OK, I'm done! I'm done picking out guys.
Clearly, I don't do it right. God, this is the kind of guy I'm
looking for, and if he's out there, I'm leaving it up to you to find
him. I quit.” Yes, I did give God a list of my qualifications for a
guy. I'm not sure why I thought He couldn't figure that out on His
own. But I definitely remember what I heard next, in the quiet after
my rant. (Not audibly, as in heard this voice in my bedroom, which
would have been a little creepy. But when you hear from God, you
know.)
“OK,
deal. It's about time, really. But you already know someone who meets
all those criteria. Have you thought of him?”
Who, God?? No, I hadn't.
Probably on account of I was a junior and he was a freshman with
Coke-bottle glasses and an ROTC haircut. And a girlfriend back home.
Nice friend material, but . . . really?
That
was near the end of the school year, and said freshman and I went home to or
respective states, and we wrote letters. We were friends--that was OK, aforementioned girlfriend and all.
Yes, letters. those things you
printed on paper with a pen and needed a stamp and a mailbox for.
Strange. I sent one letter with the sticker you see here:
It
was just a fun sticker. Although, in fact, that was one of the worst
summers of my life, and chocolate would definitely have been
welcomed.
He
sent it. A box of chocolate. Not just any chocolate, but homemade
fudge, without nuts (just the way I like it), made not by his mother
but by him. I think that's when I fell in love. (Plus, somewhere in
there he dropped out of ROTC, grew curly dark hair and a beard, and
got contacts. Those things helped. A girl's got eyes, after all.)
Three
years later, I married Mr. Fudge Guy. Hey, if God says he's the guy
for you, AND he bakes fudge, I do not argue.
The
course of true love never did run smooth. (Thanks, Shakespeare. You
are almost always correct.) Sometimes it's paved with college
tantrums, desperate prayers, hippo stockers, cancelled stamps, and
even fudge. His parents' path was paved with war. His dad mailed bath towels to his girl back home with an engagement ring attached. We are all resourceful in our own ways where love is involved.
In
any case, it has been a good road. Thanks for letting me ride. Let's
keep driving for a very long time.
What's your love story? Do share.
4 comments:
We love you guys both. I didn't know the "pre" couple story, but I sure did see you as a couple. God is a great matchmaker.
Aww
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