grace-filled conversations among kindred spirits
On March 6, 2015, I met the man I’d marry on the doorstep of my pastor’s home on small group night. Much to my chagrin, I didn’t invite him in, shake his hand, or say a word.
As confused as I was about my feelings, I distinctly remember how strange it was to end our phone calls with just “Good night” and not “Good night, I love you.”
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. …
On that work day at the camp, he was looking me over in a wistful, I’ll-never-get-her sort of way, and I was looking him over in a wistful, he’ll-never-be-interested-in-me sort of way. Mr. Bill and his wife were looking at us both and plotting ways to get us together.
If I may be so bold as to offer a word of advice to single women everywhere: beware of creating an imaginary life around an imaginary man so that when a real man comes along you can’t see him for the imaginary life you’ve created. I almost missed him and I wouldn’t want that to happen to you.
In the providence of God, I was friends with a precious co-worker who had lost her husband several years ago to cancer at an early age like Josh. She had given me many insights into what life was like for someone in that situation and how she had neede …
I was resigned that because of my standards, and a desire for a very simple and back-to-basics lifestyle, my chances of finding a man with the same desires were highly unlikely and maybe impossible!
