For all the time T and I have been married (almost six years), I was so sad that I couldn’t find the diary I kept while T and I were dating. I mean, I have a box that contains every single other diary I’ve ever kept since I started writing in them in sixth grade, but this one particular, precious diary of a very special time in my life was simply missing. So you can imagine how ecstatic I was a couple of months ago when T was digging around in the garage looking for something else and discovered the missing diary in a box of my lecture notes from college. Without that diary, I would never have been able to remember nearly as many details of those deliriously happy first few months of our relationship. You think you will never forget a single endearment or event from that time, but as the years wear on, those tender memories get shoved to the back of your mind, which is why I’m thrilled to have my diary back so I can relive our courtship. By the way, re-reading old diaries is not for the faint of heart. There’s nothing like reading your own words from bygone years to elicit blushes, cringes, and groans. Sometimes I find myself thinking, “Aw, I was so cute!” And other times I want to go back and chew myself out for being so stupid. But this story, our love story, is a happy one.
The first time I ever mentioned T in my diary was on January 8, 2004, when I was writing out a prayer to God: There is someone I am interested in–You know who. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a man–wise, smart, kind, good with kids, talented, a good storyteller, and most importantly, he loves You passionately. God, I don’t know if he feels anything for me, but if he does, please show him the right time and way to let me know.
I’d first met T the previous fall. He remembers the first time he saw me. It was at tryouts for a singing ensemble I really wanted to be a part of at the Bible college we were both attending (well, T was in the seminary, and I was in the college). Since T had a lot of history with the ensemble, the director had asked him to sit in on the tryouts and help him evaluate those trying out. I was so nervous and focused on the director that I didn’t even notice T there. T has since told me that he wrote my name down as “Marisa,” and he remembers thinking that I was wearing too much makeup (which I was). Despite that, T and the director liked me enough to let me into the group, for which I am forever grateful, not only because it was a really phenomenal experience musically and ministerially (yes, that is a word; I just looked it up), but also because it brought T and me together.
To be continued…
Go to Part 2.