I have been married to my childhood sweetheart for almost eighteen years. As we approach our anniversary, I begin to think back about our first days together. I was only six years old when this man came into my life. We often joke about being "trailer trash" because we lived in a very poor trailer park, where childhood play consisted of making mud pies, tearing down the metal fences to make a bouncy toy, and swinging on water hoses from the trees. Our life was an exciting one.
I had few friends in that trailer park, but that changed one day when an evangelist, his wife and little boy moved two lots over from us in their travel trailer. I remember meeting that little boy with the big, brown eyes that sparkled with the light of life. I remember the cute little mole on his left cheek. I remember feeling happy that I had a new friend. Our lives were so different...he being the son of an evangelist and I was the daughter of a fairly hippy-type couple. My mother was a belly dancer and I often spent Wednesday nights at the local belly dance show downtown, while my sweet, new friend spent his Wednesday nights in revival services. Somehow, his parents were brave enough to let him play with me.
I recall one moment in particular, when my belly-dancing mommy was practicing her sword dance in our living room. She bumped into the television and the sword fell from her head into her leg. I ran to the evangelist's trailer and knocked frantically on the door. My now mother-in-law opened the door and I said, with my Texas drawl, "My momma just stabbed herself with a sword! Can you help her?" I remember the scared look in her eyes. The brave evangelist and his wife went to check on my mom and they ended up taking an interest in this strange, hippy couple, praying for them faithfully every day.
As time went by, my little friend and I played regular games of Spy. You see, we were the secret agents in that trailer park and it was our duty to spy on the other children in the park. I believe that one of them was actually a mermaid and we were trying to solve that mystery. Another favorite past time was watching The Roadrunner and other Looney Tunes cartoons. I recall making fun of my little friend, "You must be poor. You only have a black-and-white T.V. Mine is color!" I was quite rude. I often hit him on the head with his drumsticks when he refused to let me play his drums.
I suppose I watched too much television, because somewhere along the way, I learned things that I probably should not have known. "Billy" came over to play with me one day and he seemed interested in my new, plastic camera. Well, we had a photo shoot that I will not describe in detail. I had heard words that I did not understand, but somehow, I had learned enough to tell him, "You have a 'sexy' stomach." For all I knew, that might have meant "fat" or "white." He claims that I am the only person that has ever spoken those words to him.
Before long, we ended up going to revival services together. I always had a longing to know God and my parents made sure to tell me that He was there. Billy's parents discipled my parents and cared for their souls. As time went on, our friendship grew and so did my love for God. When Billy had to leave, I continued my conversations with God. I remember laying underneath of our trailer (that was my shelter, my castle) and I would talk to Him and ask Him what He was like. He told me many things.
Every couple of years, I would get to see Billy when his parents were passing through town during their evangelistic tours. When I was seventeen years old, Bill came to town, and when we saw each other, everything was different. I had written a letter to God two weeks prior to Bill's arrival and I promised God that I would not have a boyfriend again until He brought me the one that I was to marry. I felt a passion for youth ministry and I was looking into going to Christ For the Nations to pursue that. When Bill arrived, there was an immediate attraction, but I gave him the cold shoulder, for fear of him being a "jerk" that might steer me away from my mission. However, within a week, we had shared our goals with each other, which were a perfect match and we ended up committing ourselves to each other. In fact, we attended a revival meeting that week where his dad was preaching, and as we knelt down at the pew together, I will never forget the feeling of his hand slipping into mine; his fingers wrapping around my hand and holding me in such a way that said, "I am forever with you."
After that week, Bill left for a European missions trip, where he helped build a church in Czechoslavakia. During his time there, he prayed and asked God if he should marry me. He was only seventeen years old at the time, with no job and no money. So he told God that if he was supposed to marry me, God would have to give him an engagement ring. During that time, back in the United States, a woman approached Bill's parents at a church meeting. She handed them a beautiful set of wedding rings and said, "The Lord wants me to give this to you for your son. You can sell them for money for college or something. Whatever you want to do with them is fine." The rings were exactly my size!!
Long story short, we married about a year-and-a-half later at the tender ages of eighteen and nineteen. God has blessed our lives tremendously and we have experienced his favor over and over. Now, we seem to be in the most unsettling, seemingly directionless time of our lives, yet I know that God will lead just like He always has. He is with us, smiling over us and delighting in our relationship. And I think we are going to explore the beginnings of our friendship, relish in our times together, experience renewed passion, and perhaps, make a few mud pies...or play Spy...or something like that. All I know is that I am happy to be with him. I like that day when I met my man....
