We stood by each other. That doesn’t make for a very good TV movie, but it makes a helluva story. Believe me, there is drama; we just never gave up. He never had to run after me because of a misunderstanding or miscommunication as so frequently happens in a movie. There was plenty of misunderstandings and miscommunications, but we fought through them and here we are, still together.

Our story starts innocently enough. Two very lonely people in a lonely city atop a lonely past.

I had graduated college with a degree and a mound of debt without a dream attached to it. My dream had always been to get married and have children. Career? I had no idea. So I piled up more debt while I pondered that and took a job as a secretary for three attorneys. Pompous and lovable, they introduced me to the world of working. In this environment, I continued my real love, writing, mostly poetry and journaling. It was during this time that God ministered to me through the arts. The Holy Spirit’s weight became so great I searched out His people in a little Baptist Church in a big city.

I cried straight for months. I greived my way of life and my college friends. As I sat, anonymously in that pew week after week, I mourned voraciously. But in my mourning (just like the beatitude says), I was comforted. Along side the pain, welled life, freshness. I cried out to God. It hurt so bad, but it hurt so good. So much good flowed: new, deep relationships based in Christ within a loving community.

Amid the growing pains, I hung on to the old life for far too long. Heart tranfusions are messy indeed. I had to learn how to write, to have fun, to shop, to pray, all over again. Its beat began to beat more rhythmically and with great purpose. 

It was during this conversion that I met my husband. He, too, had wandered into this community of believers in this space and time under the weight of the Holy Spirit. He, too, grieved his childhood friends. He had made the bold move to leave his hometown from a nagging desire to see his 21st birthday.

We met at one of those “seeker” services for people just like us, the wounded, the unchurched.

I grew up in church, but was wounded by it, bitter even. I had put my faith in God’s people and when they failed me, I turned my back on God.

He knew almost nothing about church and accepted Christ, quietly, in his room, by himself, the Bible his guide. When we met, he says he knew from that moment. I am much more shallow. I thought he was hot, but I had an unhealthy attachment to a college boyfriend who lived three states away and a million miles from right. Months later as I grew deeper into a no-strings relationship with the Living God, I had the strength to break off this damaging attachment. I (again) held on too long. Now the journey forward seemed all uphill. A long hike works your lungs and wears your legs, but the view is totally worth it.

Free, now, we pursued each other, moving forward, much like new foal, unsteady on our feet, uneasy in our affections but determined, each in our own way to have each other. And I mean determined. We ran off to Vegas and that first year is a blur, like a painful hospital stay when you have collapsed and wake up wondering, Where am I? What just happened? and Is it reversible?

No, not really, not if we believe in God’s power to save. We made A LOT of mistakes. So many, I can’t even begin to catalog here how we hurt each other, how we grieved the past, how we used each other for a punching bag, not literally but figuratively is bad enough. We discovered I liked to throw things and he liked to hide things. Like I mentioned in the beginning, plenty of drama.

But here’s the great part, we stuck it out. I wanted to quit; he wanted to quit. At varying degrees, we cut deep into each other’s soul as if trying to kill each other. I could give you examples, but if you’re married, you probably already know. If you’re not married, I don’t want to scare you so bad you won’t pursue it, if that’s what God has for you. I want to warn you, however, do not go into marriage lightly. All your preconceived ideals and emotions will be shredded. That’s a good thing. Becoming one is not as romantic as it sounds! But if you stick it out, you will discover new planets, you will discover water on Mars. You will discover that who you thought you were–your past, present, future–drains, sometimes like a slow, tortuous leak and sometimes like the relief of a new born baby (without an epidural).

 We’ve been navigating these waters for 10 years, charting an unknown course but becoming known. The next 10 years, who knows, we may discover another star as bright as the sun.