a love storyPosted: February 10, 2011
One of my favorite blogs of the moment is featuring love stories this whole month. What a treat it has been to read inspiring and true accounts from couples whose love fits into a whole array of molds. I was inspired. And so I tasked myself with writing ours.
I honestly sat down to do just this. I thought it would be fun and lovely and special. And then I just sat. and sat. and sat. How do you do justice to 7 emotional, joyful, crazy years? Answer: you don’t. You just write one thing and then another and hope that at the end of it you have shared a tiny piece of your heart.
Kurt and I scoped each other out our freshmen year of high school. I don’t remember the first words we shared. I do remember that I wanted to be like him. He was real and straight, smart and fun, friendly and compassionate, loved by all, handsome, cute and really good-looking, he was true blue. Fast Forward a few years. He invited me to a church group that his dad led. We went to the gym together. He made special trips to bring me homework assignments. I was pretty sure he liked me. I made sure to be at Young Life EVERY SINGLE WEEK, because I knew he’d be there. I think he knew that I liked him too. He took me on my first date. His sister wrote me a letter about becoming a christian. I prayed. I gave my testimony to all of my friends one winter evening. Kurt and I went back to my parents house and looked at each other… we were in love. (This
is that moment when you know… we were 18)
From here we went to separate colleges. We talked on the phone. We visited each other. Kurt made me CD’s. We talked on the phone and moved back home. We lived, learned and realized that life and relationships are kind of hard. We were growing up together and we loved each other- what in life is sweeter? Life presented opportunities. Kurt moved to New York. I cried. A lot. We talked on the phone. I traveled for the first time in my life by myself. I was proud of myself and fell in love with New York. I came home. I cried. Kurt adventured. I found comfort in Jack Johnson and Maroon 5. I found comfort in my 7th grade friend. I found peace and rest in Jesus. I cried. Kurt came home.
We both moved out of our parents homes and lived alone. We both LOVED it. We beer ponged, studied and did the ‘college thing’. We went to a lot of weddings. I wanted to get married. Kurt wanted to get married. But not quite yet. I cried. I finished school with a BA in Psychology. I continued my career as a waitress. I loved my life. I loved Kurt. I wanted to get married. Kurt kept pushing toward his Engineering Degree. He was drowning slowly in school, in pressure. We took a break. I tried desperately to imagine a life without the love of my life. Tried to convince myself that he wasn’t the one for me. That it was OK that he just didn’t feel the same way I did. Over and over again, I just said to myself, ‘It’s OK, I was just mistaken.’ I turned and ran in the opposite direction, couldn’t, wouldn’t look back for fear that I would never have the strength to let him go again. I Prayed. He Prayed. We Prayed. Then I turned around and Kurt was there. I turned again and he was there. No matter where I looked or ran he was there. He fought for me. He fought me. He fought me for me and promised to do it every day for forever if I’d let him. I stared at him. He cried. I was frozen and in shock. I was afraid, more afraid than I have been in my life. I slowly thawed and warmed and saw Kurt both as I had never seen him before and how I had always seen him. I looked in his eyes and remembered what it felt like all those years ago to know. I let go. I chose to believe that we loved each other all along. We experienced forgiveness. We experienced healing. We lived and breathed JOY. He proposed in the most beautiful way. I cried. We planned our wedding together. We laughed a lot. We wrote the vows we wanted to exchange. We cried together. Those tears were some of the most precious I have ever shed. I married the most beautiful person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I cry every time I realize that he picked me over and over again and the knowledge that he will continue to pick me for the remainder.
Our love story is by no means perfect. But it is perfect for us. We both rest in our story because really, there was no other way. All praise goes to the One who began planning our love story before we had even uttered the prayer for it. God knew that for us the process that seemed so long and painful and confusing at times would make the end so sweet and perfect. Thank you Lord for knowing us better. For having a bigger and better plan than we could imagine. For doing Everything Well.
P.S. My fellow blogging friends: You should really take a moment to write down your love story. It’s a great way to spend a few moments. It’s freeing and sweet and therapeutic. And did I mention, I cried 🙂