Have you ever wondered, "How did I get here?"
I have a notoriously terrible sense of direction and blindly rely on my GPS. The number of wrong turns I have made in my life are too many to count. However, I can say with full certainty that my path to our little town was perfect. Perfect because I was not the navigator, nor was I blindly listening to "my lady" in my car tell me which turn to make. Yet I am often asked, "How did you end up here?" when I share where I was raised.
My hometown is more than 1,000 times larger than our little town. 1,000 TIMES! I grew up on freeways, beltlines, and waiting in traffic. I moved to a caution light, a couple of stop signs, and waiting behind tractors. Yes, this was a big transition. Yes, to anyone looking at this scenario from the outside, it seemed crazy. And yes, I have asked myself, "How did I get here?" This question could easily drum up thoughts of bewilderment, uncertainty, and doubt. Instead, I am reminded of the most beautiful story. Our story.
Like every good story, ours starts in a bar. I knew from the minute I laid eyes on that handsome boy in the green shirt that he was someone special. With a little liquid courage and the encouragement of friends, we struck up a conversation. Hours passed in seconds, and when I hopped in the car with my brother around 2 AM, I boldly announced, "I have met THE boy." That night marked the start of summer for this first year elementary school teacher and pharmacy school student, and what a fun summer we spent together!
Do you remember my poor sense of direction? Well, here it comes...
We returned to our respective schools in the fall, and with that came a 3 hour commute between us. This provided me with ample opportunity to make some wrong turns and question where I was going. It seemed as if this path was too tricky for me to navigate, and we decided to step back to gain perspective. Not only did I step back, I tried to take a detour and even choose a new destination.
Fall faded and winter settled in. I ached in a way I never knew. I wanted to wander in hopes of stumbling across a new path, but instead I held fast to the One who knows me best. In those moments, the faith I always claimed to have was put to the test. The years spent in Sunday School and church led me to words of scripture in search of directions to my next destination. Unsure of what I would find, the written words of God grew into a relationship--relying on His guidance for each step.
On a dreary January morning, a Sunday morning, I was guided up the steps of a small country church. Shaking like a leaf, I wondered what on earth I was doing here. Then a familiar face greeted me at the door. The boy in the green shirt. Except this time, he was dressed in a suit, giving the message that morning in this small country church. The courage to walk up the steps to that church was not my own, and as I sat on the back pew, I knew I had reached my next destination. The small country church, in our little town, with the most handsome boy I had ever seen.
This destination was not stumbled upon or a result of missed turns and failed directions. It was, and continues to be, part of a plan greater than I could ever imagine.
I have a notoriously terrible sense of direction and blindly rely on my GPS. The number of wrong turns I have made in my life are too many to count. However, I can say with full certainty that my path to our little town was perfect. Perfect because I was not the navigator, nor was I blindly listening to "my lady" in my car tell me which turn to make. Yet I am often asked, "How did you end up here?" when I share where I was raised.
My hometown is more than 1,000 times larger than our little town. 1,000 TIMES! I grew up on freeways, beltlines, and waiting in traffic. I moved to a caution light, a couple of stop signs, and waiting behind tractors. Yes, this was a big transition. Yes, to anyone looking at this scenario from the outside, it seemed crazy. And yes, I have asked myself, "How did I get here?" This question could easily drum up thoughts of bewilderment, uncertainty, and doubt. Instead, I am reminded of the most beautiful story. Our story.
Like every good story, ours starts in a bar. I knew from the minute I laid eyes on that handsome boy in the green shirt that he was someone special. With a little liquid courage and the encouragement of friends, we struck up a conversation. Hours passed in seconds, and when I hopped in the car with my brother around 2 AM, I boldly announced, "I have met THE boy." That night marked the start of summer for this first year elementary school teacher and pharmacy school student, and what a fun summer we spent together!
Do you remember my poor sense of direction? Well, here it comes...
We returned to our respective schools in the fall, and with that came a 3 hour commute between us. This provided me with ample opportunity to make some wrong turns and question where I was going. It seemed as if this path was too tricky for me to navigate, and we decided to step back to gain perspective. Not only did I step back, I tried to take a detour and even choose a new destination.
Fall faded and winter settled in. I ached in a way I never knew. I wanted to wander in hopes of stumbling across a new path, but instead I held fast to the One who knows me best. In those moments, the faith I always claimed to have was put to the test. The years spent in Sunday School and church led me to words of scripture in search of directions to my next destination. Unsure of what I would find, the written words of God grew into a relationship--relying on His guidance for each step.
On a dreary January morning, a Sunday morning, I was guided up the steps of a small country church. Shaking like a leaf, I wondered what on earth I was doing here. Then a familiar face greeted me at the door. The boy in the green shirt. Except this time, he was dressed in a suit, giving the message that morning in this small country church. The courage to walk up the steps to that church was not my own, and as I sat on the back pew, I knew I had reached my next destination. The small country church, in our little town, with the most handsome boy I had ever seen.
This destination was not stumbled upon or a result of missed turns and failed directions. It was, and continues to be, part of a plan greater than I could ever imagine.
Such a beautiful story!
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