I was in grade school that year, with pigtails and a crazy hunger for books to read. Once a week the youth pastor from the church would come in and read to us from Tales of the Kingdom, a trilogy of books that told of an enchanted city where everything was twisted up and dark,…
I was having a horrible day — not “normal” horrible, not like everything-is-going-wrong kind of day (although those are bad enough). I was exhausted. My brain hurt. I couldn’t think straight, could barely think at all. I wasn’t suicidal, but the darkness of depression loomed over me like a cloud I couldn’t shake.
Courage, dear heart; God is writing your story. He created you. He is the One Who gives you identity.
In Him, there is hope. There is freedom. There is grace.
I specifically remember even praying for my future husband’s salvation, because, hey, ya never know. Little did I know how God was moving in the heart of my future husband. He accepted Christ that same year!
Months passed. A year. “Just friends” morphed into “best friends.” And one night, while we were discussing life dreams, I made a statement–one I meant with all my heart. I said something to the effect of, “Yeah, I don’t see it happening. It’s simple. I don’t want to get married, and I can’t imagine ever…
The silence became more and more awkward. I had no idea what was going on. Caleb blurted out, “I talked to your dad. I want to court you.”