Everybody has a story to tell, don't they?
My husband and I are no exception. I like to think that we are still in the beginning of our story. Only a few chapters have been written . . . so many more to go. At the same time, we try to recognize that our lives are a gift from God, and we never know when our stories on this earth will end.
It was March of 2011, a normal day as far as I can remember. My mom and I were on our way home from my school. I was fifteen, a Freshmen in high school at Licking County Christian Academy. I had my hair piled on top of my head in my usual fashion and was sporting my school uniform, a yellow polo shirt paired with a plaid skirt that hung to my knees. My school was an hour-long commute from my family's mini-farm. We carpooled with several families for forty-five minutes of the trip before driving the last fifteen minutes alone. We were frequent customers to the little country store down the road. That particular day in March, Mom had me run in to the store to pick something up before we went home. We almost always went in the store together, but that day I was flying solo. As soon as I walked into the store, there he was . . .
cue the slow motion . . .
and the heavenly voices . . .
our eyes met . . .
my heart skipped a beat . . .
okay, NOT exactly.
He barely even remembers this experience. But it was quite memorable for me. As I opened the door, he stood up from behind the counter, wearing his bright red apron and white t-shirt. He looked so much like my cousin, Bubba, that I stopped dead in my tracks, cocked my head and smiled at him. When he caught my gaze, his face turned the color of his apron. He gave a bit of a smile back and rushed to the kitchen where he was making pizzas. All I could think was that I wanted to be friends with that guy. Nothing more, nothing less. I never imagined dating him, let alone marrying him. God works in mysterious ways.
Sometimes we expect love to be glamorous. I met my love in the middle of everyday life. I was on the way home, probably looking quite ragged from a long day at school. He was in the middle of cooking pizzas in a hot kitchen. I was fifteen, he was sixteen. I wasn't looking for anyone, and he was dating someone else at the time. Although it would be a while before we even had a full conversation, I still look back fondly on how we met right in the middle of "real" life.
What about you? How did you meet your spouse?
In church? Through a friend? In a country store?
I'd love to hear your story.
Thanks for reading,
Keep living joyfully,