Noticing Wonder: a love story (Part 2)
*This work is wholly original and was written without the assistance of artificial intelligence.*
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Sunday, August 11th, arrived.
David was going to down from San Francisco after I arrived home from church and pick me up at my parent’s house for our first ever date.
I wanted to show him to a place called Knight’s Ferry, just forty-five minutes from my home, where we could climb and boulder together.
I was so nervous leading up to his arrival that I questioned my sanity a few times. I truly considered if it might be too late to run away and hide.
As I waited for him I paced the kitchen floor in front of the door. I couldn’t believe he was so close. He had only ever been a mythical type of guy on the other side of phone calls and text messages. But he was actually real and we would soon see each other for the first time.
Panicked questions that were verging on doubts began to run through my mind.
Would I be all that he hoped? Would he be what I believed him to be? What if our conversations fell flat and our connection stopped at messaging and phone calls? What if today was the last day either of us felt any hope for the future of our relationship?
His car pulled into the driveway and I knew all of my questions would soon have answers as I walked out to meet him.
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Her short hair, blue eyes, and warm smile greeted David as she waited outside of his car door.
He was just as he’d imagined her.
Tall, beautiful, with short blonde hair tucked behind her ears. She smiled so genuinely and openly as they hugged for the first time. There was no awkwardness between them and it was as if they’d known each other for a long time.
She asked him to come inside the house and meet her family.
He was greeted warmly by her Mom and Dad and a couple of her brothers. He caught her shyly watching him as he interacted with her family. They stole glances at each other across the room; it was almost as if they already shared a sweet secret, a connection all their own.
Although his time with her family was brief, he already felt warmly welcomed by them. He was happy with how it was going and his time with her had not yet begun.
It felt lighthearted and fun as David and I walked together among the rocks and hiked up grassy hills to find areas that we could climb.
Knight’s Ferry was a place I had been many times before it became a place I went climbing.
My family and I had done Civil War reenacting for awhile and it had been one of our favorite places where a reenacting event was held in the spring.
My brothers and my friends and I would climb a large steep hill and look at the stars and the dark river below. It looked different at night and I remember the cold, dark skies far away from city lights that were lit only by the stars and the campfires below.
During the summer I’d been here many times with friends to jump off the tall rocks into the icy cold river below (although I’d never been able to find the courage to jump myself) or just to hike and explore.
David and I hadn’t had deep conversations yet during our time together, but I found my feelings deepening just by sharing an experience with him for the first time.
We had already spent hours talking on the phone and now our time together also included growing in a closeness we could only have in being around each other.
This guy, who not long ago was just a social media profile, was rapidly entering into my life and now he was seeing parts of my world for the first time.
I found myself growing more comfortable and confident as we spent time together but I still had those annoying, nagging questions running through the back of my mind.
What would he think of me? Would he change his mind? Was I saying and doing the right things? Would I be enough?
We laughed together as we reached the top of boulders, David taking my hand just for a moment as he helped me climb over the top.
After climbing for a while we found an area close to the river’s edge and dangled our feet into the icy cold water.
We sat there sharing jokes, smiles, and comfortable silences.
Later on, we had dinner at In-N-Out, a West Coast staple, before David had to drive back to San Francisco.
We sat outside, watching the sunset, when he shared with me something that was both comforting and scary.
“I fully believe in communicating clearly as we get to know each other. I want you to know that I will never keep you guessing, whether it’s to tell you how I feel about continuing to progress in the next steps, or not. I won’t hold anything back—I will always be upfront and honest and transparent with you.”
I admired his leadership and I knew that during this process I wouldn’t be left hanging, wondering, or questioning the direction we were going. I knew he would carefully and sensitively lead me.
When we returned to my house we took a final walk together in the orchards around my parent’s home.
We didn’t know when we’d see each other again or what the next days and weeks would bring to the future of our growing connection. But in that sunset walk among the trees, there was already a sense of unspoken wonder between us and all around us.
We walked among the trees, under the darkening blue sky that was quickly giving way to the pale stars and the waxing moon. We were surrounded by the smells of the damp orchard and the late summer breezes. Those moments impressed us, enfolded us, with their significance.
The world felt like it was expanding all around me, throbbing with a waking beauty. I was feeling things I hadn’t felt before, noticing things I’d never seen before. It was as if I was being gently carried away in the melody of a sweet song that I’d never been able to hear until now.
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She looks at you like you have a secret together from the rest of the world.
We sat on the big rock. It wasn’t too hot; it was perfect.
I dipped my feet in the cold snowmelt water and wished I could plunge my head in and drink it.
She was sitting right next to me, a little behind me, as I watched the river and talked to her. I wanted to sit back to back. It was so comfortable and I could have sat there a long time with her.
It was just kind of a magical day.
The drive was lovely, the landscapes were fascinating. The weather was beautiful. The sunset while we talked at the table at in-n-out.
Thank you for all of those things, Lord. What gifts! What a blessing.
I don’t want to read too much into it, but it feels like God has orchestrated some pieces of this.
She has beautiful eyes.
God, help me to be discerning. But help me also just enjoy it and let it carry me away a little bit.
___________
I met David today.
Instead of writing about the wonderful time we had, which we did, I want to capture the feelings I’m experiencing.
Instead of feeling on a high because of the fact that I went on a first date with a guy that is really amazing, I feel a sense of soberness.
A soberness because I see God in the details and I don’t know what that will mean. Going forward and continuing to get to know David will require a lot of faith and courage.
It’s not easy for me.
I don’t open my heart easily like I used to.
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Our relationship continued to grow over the next couple of weeks. Soon after David arrived home from California he asked if I would be interested in visiting Ann Arbor.
As we began to make plans for my visit, David wasn’t afraid to take a realistic and honest approach.
We both really liked each other but we also acknowledged that long-distance relationships were unique because seeing each other took a lot of commitment and time. There was no quick way home if we didn’t feel peace moving forward in our relationship during that visit.
Just like when he was honest with me over dinner during his visit to California, I felt a trepidation at addressing the sad possibilities of what could end up happening. But it also gave me confidence that I could continue to expect honesty from David.
We both desired marriage and we’d both had experiences in our past that had helped to guide us into being intentional and careful with the heart of the other. We didn’t want to waste time if it became clearer where God was leading, one way or another.
We had not made our relationship formal yet, but I knew that if things went well, this trip could change that.
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What do I like about Jenn?
I remember her blue eyes when we saw each other in California for the first time.
She’s encouraging to me.
It’s easy to talk to her; she understands me pretty easily, so talking is smooth and relaxed.
I like it when she smiles. I like it when she laughs. She laughs a lot.
I love how she’s passionate about ministry to young women. So cool. I love her consistency in the Word.
I like her curiosity. I like her excitement to come here and experience new things.
She’s really caring. I like that she’s emotional. I like that she’s nurturing. I like that she reads a lot. I like the way she acts.
I like that she’s close to her parents and tells them everything. That’s healthy.
I like that she’s thoughtful about what she puts in her head. I like that she’s artistic.
I want to do things alongside her. I have a feeling that she could be the one.
Life is rearranging fast. The last year has been full of whiplash change. Stress, struggle, fear, uncertainty. It feels like the better days I dreamed of, longed for, and prayed for, are here.
Thank you, Lord.
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A week after seeing David in-person for the first time and we just finished buying tickets for my visit to Michigan in two weeks. I can’t believe I’m doing this.
Traveling there is an act of obedience and faith. I don’t want to risk all of this. It feels like I’m on the edge of something and slipping into something totally unknown.
David and I had a conversation tonight while buying the tickets. We spoke about the seriousness of the risk we’re taking.
The conversation was so real, so honest, and so hard. But I feel peace.
We only know what-ifs but God knows the future fully. God’s hands hold our future. He holds my heart.
I’ll walk forward in obedience. My heart is at risk, but I’ll walk forward in faith.
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Despite how quickly things were progressing, I had this sense that my heart was slowly, although still guardedly, opening at a perfect pace.
So many of my relationships and flings before had been rapid and reckless, choked with feelings, unchecked words, and pulling ahead instead of waiting.
But in this growing friendship with David I felt this hushed, beautiful, wonderful affection slowly unfolding in my heart.
We didn’t speak of our feelings or the fact we were both falling in love with each other. But we had this sense of falling in sync with one another. Our lives seamlessly began to wind and fall together even over two-thousand miles apart.
As David and I have been getting to know each other, there is an element of wonder.
It feels like my heart is coming out of hiding, blinking in the new light.
But it’s not all at once-—it’s this slow process; a trembling feeling. It’s slowly learning to risk and to trust again. It’s watching God’s hand in the fine details and daring to believe that maybe, just maybe, this is a gift. Maybe it’s meant to be enjoyed.
Maybe I can admit to and appreciate the wonder I feel.
It’s like hearing all of the different parts of a beautiful song come together and feeling the melody take your senses off of the ground.
Love doesn’t feel like bondage to fear as it used to.
I am learning new things about myself and God and learning to appreciate the way God has made me to be and who He is continuing to mold me into.
__________
I was nervous about visiting Michigan for many reasons. But I was also determined not to let my fear take away all of the joy and excitement that I was beginning to feel.
I wanted to appreciate every moment of my visit. Despite facing all of the unknowns that had always frightened me, I wanted to learn how to thank God for His goodness in each small detail.
Before I left I spent a lot of time preparing myself spiritually. Over and over again I came before the Lord in prayer and surrendered my hopes and the growing affection I felt for David. I reminded myself of the truth—that God was in control, that He was good, and that I would be okay even if my fears of loss and disappointment came to pass.
I felt that God wanted me to enjoy what He was doing and that it was important to fully enter into the wonder of what He’d orchestrated so far. I didn’t want my fear to obscure the beauty that He wanted me to see.
I began to see that David’s care for me was a reflection of God’s gentle love for me. David pursued my thoughts and feelings and deeply desired to know what was beneath the surface. He was not content to leave the depths of my heart unknown and unexplored.
He made me feel that there were things worth pursuing in me. He made me feel like there was beauty even in the things that I never regarded as beautiful in myself.
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I landed in Detroit late on the evening of August 30th.
The walk from the gate to where David waited for me felt like moments in slow motion. The kind of moments you remember forever.
There he was, waiting for me—tall, kind, confident, and handsome. Unruly wavy brown hair with the kindest, softest green eyes I’d ever seen. I had felt it before and I felt it again in that moment—these were the eyes I’d always pictured when I thought of my future husband.
His presence was overwhelming, unfamiliar, yet familiar all at the same time.
It was the smallest things that felt like the biggest moments.
That first embrace, a look, a laugh, a smile, existing in the same place. All that was unfamiliar but comfortable at the same time. A strange coexistence between the knowing of someone and the experience of them.
The air outside of the airport was warm and a little humid. The world there smelled different than home.
We drove on highways that were lined on either side by dense, green foliage. Even in the dark I could tell his world was very different from mine.
He named highways, streets, and landmarks that were stamped with his repeated memories and associations but were all dizzyingly new to me.
We arrived at his condo where a Canadian national flag hung out front. It was just another insight into David’s humor and love of finding unique and unexpected ways to express it.
I’d seen the inside of his house multiple times on FaceTime, but there was something overwhelming and wonderful and comfortable in walking inside for the first time and actually being there. It was like seeing snapshots of places that made up pieces of David.
Both of his roommates were gone and would be back in a couple of days, but David had another close friend, Alex, staying with him while I was there.
After showing me around and eating a late dinner, David and I sat on the couch in his cozy living room while he quietly played me a new melody he’d been writing on his guitar.
As I sat there I still felt a little unsure of myself. I was exhausted from traveling and from all of the excitement and nerves. It was all so good but I also felt overwhelmed.
I was surrounded by things I didn’t know. Despite all that was going so well I still felt a lingering doubt that I would end up being who David loved and who he chose.
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The following morning, after tossing and turning all night because of my fears and doubts and sleeping in a strange place, I joined David and Alex in the kitchen downstairs for breakfast.
David had given me his room upstairs while he stayed on the couch downstairs.
Coffee and David’s famous pancakes were made and we enjoyed a late breakfast together with Alex.
Later that morning David and I hopped in his silver Ford Focus, the “DangerMobile” as he called it, and headed to downtown Ann Arbor.
It had an energy about it that I immediately appreciated and that stoked in me the love I had for new places and adventure that lay very, very, far beneath the surface.
There was an energy and a charm to the busy streets as David pointed out places on Main Street and told me everything he knew about them.
He took me by a place called Nickel’s Arcade, one of his favorite spots downtown.
It was a tiled outdoor corridor enclosed by tall brick walls and a glass roof over it. Down this corridor there were boutiques, a coffee shop, and a barbershop all with large glass windows on the storefronts.
It reminded me of something that I would’ve found in San Francisco but less imposing and with more charm.
We visited Literati, a book store and coffee shop. The main floor and the basement held a vast selection of books and on the very top floor was a small, cozy coffee shop with windows that looked out over Washington street.
David took me to a place called Kosmo’s, a Korean diner, for lunch.
Although David and I were very alike in many areas, our exposure to different types of food were one of the areas we differed.
I had not experienced the kind of cultural variance that he had and it showed up notably in food.
It could’ve been an insecurity but David saw it as an opportunity to show me some of the things he enjoyed. He looked forward to being a part of my experience of those things for the first time.
We ordered Bibimbap, a signature Korean dish. It looked good, but I was afraid that I wouldn’t enjoy it.
I had a good relationship with food now, but in the past my anxiety had shown up in how I ate. When I felt anxiety, especially while I was in relationships, I was often unable to eat very much and it had drawn comments from ex-boyfriends. Comments about my eating habits or my weight.
I could feel that old anxiety around eating trying to push in and it was hard to know if that would stay or leave.
But when we sat down and began eating and talking, even taking silly pictures with our food, I felt the pressure I often associated with food disappear.
I had no idea that Bibimbap, and Asian food in general, would become one of my favorite things to eat and enjoy with David.
After lunch we visited the farmer’s market.
We walked down lines of tables loaded with fresh produce, plants, honeys, maple syrups, flowers, baked goods, and coffee.
The rich smells, the busy sounds of people, the warmth of a perfect summer afternoon, all combined to bring me a sense of growing comfort in this strange, new place.
David surprised me with flowers—a vibrant, colorful mix of reds and purples and bright yellows and oranges.
I glowed inwardly when he smilingly handed me the bouquet. I could not then express to him how his gift of flowers made me feel cherished in a way that I hadn’t felt in a very long time.
And not only that, it was one of the first romantic gestures that David had made.
We felt a lot for each other even then, but without even discussing it, we didn’t express those feelings for each other yet. We also didn’t have any romantic type of physical touch between us.
So I was surprised when, as we slowly walked back to his car, lingering to talk and look into shop windows, David stood close to me and slowly leaned on my shoulder for just a moment.
Outwardly, I stayed cool, calm, collected, and didn’t make any comment or any eye contact with him. My mind was screaming questions, though.
Okay, so, is this “leaning-in” a good thing? Or is it, like, a friendship kinda leaning in? Was he just losing his balance? Jenn, do NOT look awkward.
But that, combined with the gift of the flowers, gave me some inkling that David might just feel about me the way I felt about him.
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Late afternoon light filtered through soft green leaves that fell over uneven sidewalks.
That day had already felt perfect—a soft falling into deeper surety and comfortability with each other.
After a short break in the afternoon we made our way to the home of an eccentric professor that David worked with. He had invited David and I to his annual summer backyard pig roast.
We’d parked the car a little ways from where the party was and we were walking down pleasant neighborhood sidewalks.
I felt nervous, not because I would be meeting some of David’s friends for the first time (or because I had no idea what a pig roast was) but because we both felt a sort of unspoken readiness and expectancy.
A quiet fell between us as we walked. It was broken by a single question from David:
“Will you be my girlfriend?”
I didn’t hesitate to say “yes”.
We walked together, but this time he held my hand.
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We parked in front of a densely wooded area just ten minutes from David’s condo.
It was the Cherry Hill nature preserve and one of David’s favorite spots to disconnect. He’d spent many hours there walking and praying.
It stood in stark contrast to so many other parts of David’s life in Ann Arbor. It was calm, still, and slow-moving.
Late afternoon sunshine fell through bright green leaves onto the ground below. The world outside disappeared and the dense trees held us as we walked through a small gate onto paths that wound over the rise and fall of small slopes.
We had spent almost five days together and I had been able to see many important parts of David’s life. Not only had I met many of his friends, attended his church, seen many of his favorite places, but I had even met his parents and visited his childhood home.
I was processing a lot by the time my visit was drawing to a close and I found myself quiet and reflective on our walk.
It was a combination of all that the last four days had held, the sadness of leaving, and the ever-present soberness I felt in this growing integration into David’s life and world.
We had just come from the University where David had shown me around the campus where he had gone to college and where he now worked.
I felt a strange sense of thoughtfulness and soberness steal over me. This tour of the University had highlighted for me the stark contrast between David’s life and my own.
A place that David moved with ease and familiarity every day felt to me like a whole different world. I began to wonder if there was a place for me amongst highly educated, career-bound young people.
I’d never attended college—I’d begun working part-time at my Dad’s commercial janitorial business even before I graduated high school. I’d been a janitor, an administrative assistant, and was now the Human Resources manager.
I worked because I desired the ability to have some independence and I truly loved being in an office with my family and the co-workers who had become my friends.
But my hope was to eventually be a stay-at-home wife and a mom and I knew that desire didn’t fit the mold of most women in Ann Arbor.
I knew that if David and I ended up married, this place would be my home, and I had a growing sense that my future life could hold nothing that was familiar or safe to me. In those moments I was feeling a little lost and afraid.
Without asking, David sensed what was on my mind and began to gently probe into how I felt about all that I’d seen during my visit.
He didn’t try to lessen the impact that being with him could make on my life. Ever honest and transparent he shared with me something he felt was important for me to know.
“I want you to know now that I don’t ever see myself moving to California.”
The answer that came from me was the result of having already known from the beginning the cost of a possible marriage to David. What David shared with me wasn’t a surprise and my answer wasn’t either.
“I wouldn’t ask you to do that. If we were to be married, I’m willing to move here.”
Being with David, and possibly marrying him, was a great gift. But I also felt a lot of unprocessed grief at the possibility of leaving California.
Although I had no desire to leave my home or leave my family I knew that being willing to move here to be with David was the next right thing.
Despite all of the joy that I felt in being with David, it was mingled with the grief of looming goodbyes.
__________
I’m David’s girlfriend. Even writing that here in my journal seems crazy, unbelievable, and wonderful.
The four days I spent with him in Michigan were full, rich, blessed.
I’m in love with him and he with me.
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As smoothly and beautifully as things were going, the fears and insecurities that I’d always wrestled with in relationships soon came up again.
When the risk became greater, the love I felt for David grew deeper, and the hopes higher, fear came rushing in and began to throw everything into deep shadows.
But as much as I wished I could ignore the anxiety and fears, I needed to wage a war on them. I needed to stare them in the face and conquer them once and for all.
As I drove to the gym one afternoon after I got off of work, David called me.
I felt so consumed with fear and rising panic that I couldn’t find the words to tell him what I was thinking or feeling. In that terrible moment, I really wasn’t sure I wanted to be in a relationship. Not just with him, but with anyone.
I was afraid of being honest and vulnerable with him and allowing him to see my brokenness. I was afraid of introducing any kind of complications that might cause him to have any doubt about me.
I wanted to protect him as much as I could from hearing my honest, ugly, raw, and messy feelings that were so terribly muddled and confused.
Up until then I’d been steady, unshakeable, joyful, and confident-–the kind of girlfriend I’d always wanted to be. How could I, so quickly after we began dating, show him the most vulnerable parts of myself that I wanted so desperately to hide?
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The darkness and fear persisted over the days and weeks that followed my visit to Michigan.
Eventually I could not hide from David what I was going through and I was honest with him. I was shocked when instead of distancing himself, he pressed in even closer.
One Friday evening, while I felt at my lowest, David asked if he could play his guitar and sing for me over FaceTime. No questions, no trying to fix anything, just sitting with me in my dark.
The songs he sang were some of his favorites and as I watched him sing, I really truly saw him for the first time.
I saw who he was and finally the shroud of fear slipped away—a fear that had replaced David with the shadows and ghosts of my past.
He was steady, faithful, and full of faith. Faith not in me, but in God. He was not looking for me to be a trophy girlfriend—a woman to imbue him with uncomplicated happiness and a straightforward path to all of his hopes and dreams.
I knew then that he was in it with me. Whatever I needed to work through, he would patiently walk with me through it. He would be there to remind me of the truth when I was unable to recall it.
As I lay on my floor later that evening, listening to the playlist of songs David had created for me, the spell was broken—the spell woven and twisted by the deep darkness and fear that had held such power over me.
In that moment, during that plunge into the dark, David shone a light. He did not provide promises, saying that we would for sure get married and that all of my hopes would come true. But he did provide a picture of God’s love, care, and kind, faithful presence, and that was what I needed.
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“From the love of my own comfort
From the fear of having nothing
Deliver me, O God
From a need to be understood
And from a need to be accepted
From the fear of being lonely
Deliver me, O God
And I shall not want, no, I shall not want
When I taste your good I shall not want…”
This song is my prayer tonight.
I need to be reminded that no matter what, even if the worst happens, God is still in control.
I desire to live in the joy of knowing that God has created me to be who I am and I am wildly loved by Him no matter what.
I believe that walking in that freedom is not only possible but it’s what God desires for me.
Part of the fear I feel is a desire to control the outcome and preserve the thing I love. But I have freedom to let that need for control go because of the sovereign God I serve.
I have to let my desires rest like a sacrifice on the altar.
____________
As our lives converged (as much as they could over the long distance) David and I both still worked at focusing first on our walks with the Lord, growing our friendships with others, and continuing to press into the areas of ministry God had given us.
For a few years before that, as opportunities presented themselves, I was able to mentor young women. I was passionate about speaking into their lives, specifically regarding relationships and singleness. God had taught me a lot through my many mistakes in this area and I believed that one of the many reasons for that was so that I had something that I could offer to others.
While dating David there was a temptation to feel like I was one foot in and one foot out of the life I had in California because of the possibility of marriage and moving away. But I pushed back on that and focused on investing in the opportunities that God had set before me where I was.
During that time I also had a mentor that I was able to speak to about my relationship. Because of this I was able to gain wisdom from her and others at a crucial turning point in my life. Having a mentor was another purposeful way that I sought to act in wisdom during this relationship. It was something that I’d not done in relationships before.
____________
September 28, 2019
Father, give me wisdom in this relationship with Jenn.
Help me to be careful, loving, vulnerable, caring, gentle. Help me to be considerate of her emotions and gentle in my interactions with her.
Make it clear (or more clear) on this trip if we should pursue marriage.
I don’t want to waver. I want to be consistent. Make my emotions line up with your will, Father.
Help me to care for her and put her needs above my own on this trip. Help me to see the wonder in the moments with her and worship you for those.
____________
September 28, 2019
David flies in at 4:06 PM today. I leave in an hour to pick him up.
As I prepare to spend this next week with him I wanted to have a quiet moment with the Lord.
I just read 1 Samuel 12:21. This verse talks about serving the Lord with all of our hearts. That’s my prayer for David and I this week. I pray our eyes will be fixed on God as we nurture this relationship.
I pray that my heart would truly be to serve the Lord and, in turn, be able to serve David.
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The last time David had visited California we’d hardly known each other, but this time we were in a committed relationship.
Since my visit to Michigan we’d already worked through a lot.
Although the length of our relationship had been short, we felt as though the long distance had helped us to get to know each other in a more purposeful way that we may not have if we’d been in the same place.
Long phone conversations “forced” us to get good at communicating and we dove into important, and sometimes difficult, topics.
During our time apart David and I had shared with each other the stories of our past mistakes. Both of us had seasons where we had walked in rebellion and although it would have been easier not to disclose things that were well behind us, we believed that it was important to build our relationship on honesty and transparency.
We felt discomfort in disclosing those things and we both needed time to process the past of the other—what we had done, who we had been, and if those things had any bearing on the current and future person that we were.
But ultimately our understanding of the gospel and the depth of God’s forgiveness for us was the lens we saw each other through.
Because of the significant ground we’d already covered, when David’s visit to California arrived, it began to feel like the natural next step was to introduce the question of marriage.
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David and I got up early in the morning on October 3rd.
Our time together had been wonderful so far—we had visited Yosemite and hiked to Nevada falls, met friends for dinner, visited local coffee shops, and spent a lot of time just talking and spending time with my family.
But I had planned a surprise for David—an experience that was unique and something I knew he’d appreciate.
So early on Thursday morning we drove through the rolling hills that led to the Sierra mountains. The summer heat had turned them into ridges of gold and now they were cast into dark hues as the sunrise slowly appeared in front of us.
The air outside was cool for the first time in months, the first sign of autumn approaching. The quiet drive itself was a gift.
I couldn’t help but smile as we drew closer to the small airport in Oakdale, wondering if David had already guessed where I was taking him.
In our short time together I had already noticed that David appreciated experiences.
He enjoyed creating experiences for others whether it was a meal at his home, sharing a movie or music that he loved, or anything that was immersive and could be a blessing to others.
And he enjoyed recieving the same types of experiences that served to create core memories.
This concept was new to me. I hadn’t previously viewed life through that kind of lens, but as I got to know David better I was learning to appreciate experiences, too.
When we pulled up to the airport gate and David realized what we were there for, he immediately broke into a huge smile.
My brother, Jordan, met us out front and gave us a tour of the hanger.
Taking David to spend time with Jordan and fly with him was not only a really fun experience for David, but it was also a blessing to me.
For many years my brother Jordan had worked hard to become a pilot and get his private pilot’s license. I was proud of my brother and I loved watching him be equally as proud of all that he’d accomplished.
I valued showing David all the parts and people of my life that were precious to me and bringing him to fly with Jordan was a part of that.
As we walked out to the runway the orange glow of the morning sun shone on the bright red and white paint of the Cessna 172—a compact, four-seater plane. We dipped our heads under its wide wings and climbed in.
After Jordan did his prechecks and we put our headsets on we began the slow taxi down the short runway. A smooth takeoff lifted us slowly into the sky until we climbed to 3,500 feet.
I had rarely seen where I lived from this vantage point. The endless stretch of fields, orchards, rivers, lakes, and the Sierra mountains that were just in the distance took my breath away.
Golds, greens, and blues arranged in perfect patterns of trees, fields, water, sun, and sky. The earth below was spread with lakes where I’d been boating and wakeboarding with my family for years and where my Dad and Jordan had fished countless times.
As always, every time I found myself appreciating a part of my life and the place that I lived, it was tinged with a bittersweetness. It was as if I was slowly saying goodbye to things and places that had always been there.
David smiled back at me now and then from the front seat before returning to look out the window at all that was below.
I knew by the expression on his face that this would be something we’d remember forever.
Part of that visit also taught me to let go of the desire I had for perfection.
Perfection in myself and in David.
God taught me this through a rather humorous incident that challenged both my desire for perfection and David’s ongoing struggle with OCD.
While David visited he stayed in my parent’s camper that was parked on their property while I stayed in my apartment.
During his time there, due to the plumbing in my apartment being a new addition to my parent’s existing house, there were issues that came up that I had not yet experienced.
This would go on to be a recurring experience in my apartment, but at the time, it was alarming and embarrassing.
I desired to show David, the person I was newly dating, the best side of myself, whether that was a pristinely clean apartment or in providing a stay at my parent’s home that was flawless in execution.
But that was not to be.
A few days after he arrived, David and I both noticed an alarming amount of what appeared to be sewage coming up through the drain in my shower and from underneath my toilet.
This was of course disgusting for me, but was at a much higher level of discomfort for David who struggled with OCD, particularly related to a fear of germs.
This had never happened before in my apartment and I couldn’t believe that it would occur, of all times, while David was visiting.
The sewage continued to come up through the drain and out from under the toilet, violating my newly installed tile. Would it stop? Or would it continue and flood my apartment with its rank and disgusting presence?
We could not figure out what was causing it but eventually it did stop. David and I knew that we now had to set about the task of cleaning it up.
We quickly found the humor in it as we spent over an hour scrubbing a smelly shower and bathroom floor littered with sewage debris.
At one point, while David held the shower head, watching brown water circle the drain, his OCD reared its ugly head.
Much of David’s OCD struggles caused him to ask questions to gain certainty, often questions that might seem silly to you and I, and the question he proceeded to ask was a humorous reflection of that.
“Do you think that I have poop on my foot?” he asked me with all seriousness.
I quickly assured him, “Honey, I promise you don’t have a poop foot.”
I was still new at fielding these types of questions from David, but my response became something we laughed at for a long time afterwards.
David determinedly pushed past his OCD and I laughed, but I also inwardly groaned and waved goodbye to some of the last vestiges of providing David with a perfect experience.
This experience was far from what I thought to be perfect or ideal, but it couldn’t have been more perfect for giving us a real-life or messy (literally) situation to work through.
_________
October 7
David and I spoke for the first time about marriage.
We acknowledged the speed of our relationship and how quickly things have progressed but we also know that we would like to make a formal commitment to one another.
Last night over FaceTime we talked about it in more detail and we both agreed that we would like to make that commitment soon.
The enormity of that hit me.
Loving David and making vows, entering a covenant, will be a conscious, sober decision. I want to make sure I really love David and am not relying on feelings that I know will not always be there.
__________
October 9
In these two weeks between flying to Michigan and seeing David again there is this strange sense of hushed expectation between us. There is a sweetness to the quiet.
I know these may very well be the last months before everything changes. It feels strange even daring to write that down. I don’t want to assume God’s will.
I feel very grateful that David and I have begun to be more open about where we're at and what our desire is for the future. It gives me a lot of peace and security knowing this relationship is not directionless.
Do I dare to hope that this new season of life will be one of rejoicing?
There is so much vulnerability in hope. With hope there is always the possibility of being let down, of watching hope crumble.
In loving someone there is great risk. But in love, the right kind, there is a solemnity, a wonder, a hushed reverence.
But it isn’t perfect. It, too, bears the mark of our humanness, our fallen nature, our need for Someone greater. It reveals what we lack and what we will never find in another.
In some ways, our love for another person reveals our need for God’s love even more. We fall so short, never able to meet each other's needs perfectly. They fail and fall short, showing us our need for a perfect love.
__________
I would not have imagined that David’s and my conversations would so quickly include talking about a future—our future.
I had been in a couple of long-term relationships in which the subject of marriage was rarely discussed, and when it was, it felt uncomfortable and unnatural.
But David’s and my relationship moved with ease. It didn’t feel rushed or premature. It felt like everything was unfolding beautifully and perfectly for us.
Once we broached the topic of marriage during David’s visit here the conversations that flowed from that were no longer about if we should get married, but when.
I had always imagined that I would be completely in the dark about when my boyfriend was going to propose, but David’s and my relationship was different and I was very grateful for that.
My next visit to Michigan was coming up at the end of October. David and I both knew that we would either get engaged then or when he visited California again in December for Christmas.
___________
It was the day before I left for Michigan. I felt a mix of butterflies, nerves, and excitement as I packed.
So much of what confirmed the joy and peace I had about David and the pace of our relationship was the involvement of my parents.
I had experienced what it was like to proceed in a relationship against the counsel of my parents. But now I knew them to be one of the most instrumental ways God had led me, and was continuing to lead me, in my relationship with David.
During the entirety of our relationship they had been supportive, joyful, hospitable, and had gotten to know him with purposefulness and warmth.
David also enjoyed a close relationship with his Mom and Dad. As our relationship progressed one of the ways we felt God was leading us forward towards marriage was through the repeated confirmation we had from both his parents and my own.
So on that day, as I packed for my second visit to Michigan, full of so many hopes and “I can’t believe this is my life!” feelings, I experienced one of the sweetest, beautiful, and exciting moments in my relationship with David.
Outside of my apartment door, which was connected to my parent’s house, I suddenly heard a voice that sounded like David’s.
My heart sped up as my thoughts did also. Could David be here?! No, that was impossible. I had just FaceTimed him thirty minutes ago.
But then it clicked: he said he had to get off the phone with me because he had a phone call with a guy named “Dave”.
My dad’s name is also David.
“Oh my goodness, it’s my DAD! That’s who “Dave” is!”
I listened for a second, and I realized what this call was.
David was asking for my parent’s blessing to marry me.
__________
We stood together on David’s balcony that overlooked a small backyard.
I had just arrived in Michigan and after a long day of traveling I was relieved to be with David once again.
It was dark out, the balcony lit only by the soft lights from inside and the lights that lined the neighborhood streets.
Our comfortable silence turned into conversation. We stood, facing each other, knowing that the journeys we’d been on individually that had felt so long, hard, and sometimes heartbreaking, had led us here.
This wild, fantastical, whirlwind story was ours.
We couldn’t believe that our two, very separate worlds, had combined in a way that only God could facilitate.
We reflected on all the things we thought God was doing that had turned into no’s or not yet.
All of the waiting, character building, and seasons of loneliness.
And all of the good stuff—good friends, communities, families, mentors, and adventures that reminded us of God’s goodness along the way.
All of it used to shape us, build us, and prepare us in so many ways for each other.
This was what it felt like when love, faith, and obedience beautifully converged.
This is what it felt like to surrender my own ideas for my future and let God write a far better story than I ever could.
It was unspeakably beautiful, incredibly freeing, and wildly wonderful.
I stood on the edge of an experience I’d long imagined, but the reality was far more profound. Instead of all of my girlish dreams being realized I was realizing that God’s plans were so much better.
_________
The very next day we went ring shopping.
As a young woman, you imagine so many different moments within your love story, and this was one of them.
I so often wondered what it would feel like to slip that delicate band with a sparkly diamond on my finger. I wondered what it would feel like to carry a beautiful sign of a promise that was given only to me.
I could not imagine then that that ring, though stunning, would be far less beautiful than the love that’d grown between me and the man I was going to marry.
I could not imagine then that all of my wildest dreams of what it would be like to first see that ring paled in comparison to the simplicity of David and I walking into a small jewelry store together and seeing the ring I’d always envisioned. A simple, delicate gold band with one round-cut diamond set in the center.
I wanted a ring that would sit together perfectly with the simple, but beautiful, thin gold wedding band that had been my beloved Grammy’s. A band that’d already symbolized one promise, a marriage of close to 70 years, before my Grandad had passed away.
My own brand new, flawless, unblemished ring, set against the black velvet of a display case, yet to sit on my finger, held all of the essence of our new, beautiful, but untried love.
__________
Just days later we drove through long stretches of road that led away from the city.
Roads on which David had gone on many runs and walked and prayed countless times through many different seasons of his life.
As we drove, he explained how each season transformed the collection of dense, tall trees. How the autumn brings vibrant colors and then gives way to the stark branches of a frigid winter. How the leaves come again in spring and summer in the softest, pale green hues.
We sat in a serious, thoughtful, and holy silence. The afternoon felt full of a glorious expectancy as we drove.
David shared with me how he felt excited to ask me to be his wife but that he also felt a sense of solemnity. We both felt the enormity of the commitment we were about to make to each other. A commitment that would change our lives forever.
Hand in hand we walked into the forest.
It took my breath away. The trees were like something from a book or a dream—tall red maples, hickories and oaks, laden with the most vibrant red and orange leaves I’d ever seen.
Gentle paths led over rises and gentle slopes on the cool, soft ground, already spread with a carpet of fallen leaves.
The air was warm but tinged with the promise of the crisply cold autumn to come.
As we walked deeper into the trees David moved to place his steady hand around my waist, leading me forward.
These moments, this place, was perfect. It was far more profound, holy, and hallowed than my dreams or my imagination had ever created.
But like a shuddering breath, my heart hovered on the edge of something that felt profound. I walked ever closer toward the most mysterious union ever created by the divine Creator.
There was a sense of each moment being filled with significance. I could hear the soft breeze in the rustling trees overhead, sense the muddy ground give way slightly beneath my feet, feel the trembling of my heart and hands.
I knew that, as surely as David would soon ask the question that preceded our lifelong vows, I was saying yes to being David’s wife, but I was also saying yes to leaving behind the life I’d always known and loved. In my heart there was an unspeakable joy mixed with sorrow. I didn’t know until then that two such different realities could mingle.
I felt the very same when David had first spoken to me; on the edge of a mystery, the air trembling with a painful kind of beauty. The same way I’d felt when David and I sat on that bench at the Cherry Hill Nature Preserve during my first visit to Michigan–his hand had rested on my face and there was the feeling of walking side-by-side into something wonderful. Not the feeling of giddy excitement but the feeling of knowing with certainty that we were finally arriving at a future we’d prayed for.
Although I was expecting it I was still surprised when he knelt down in front of me.
His hands shook, his eyes a little misty, and he trembled a little as he took my hands in his.
“Jennifer, I love you and I want to spend my life with you. I want to spend my life next to you. I want to build a home with you. I want you to be the mother of my children. Will you marry me?”
“Yes, David, with all of my heart.”
He wrapped me in his arms and kissed for the first time.
He gently placed the beautiful ring on my finger and we walked in silence through the forest. We stood still, just looking at each other in those precious, slow moments. We wanted to savor them, knowing they’d be our memories forever.
I couldn’t stop looking at the glistening ring on my finger.
We came out of the woods–two fields of aged summer grass on either side of us. A red barn stood in the distance.
All of the yes’s I had said so far since meeting David had prepared me for the yes I had just given him. Each step forward, in faith, down an unknown path towards this fuller, richer, better understanding of love.
Love was no longer an answer or a solution or a bid for perfection. It was no longer destructive, crushing, or suffocating as I had once feared.
It was quiet, soft, and gentle. It was true, faithful, tenacious, and beautiful. It was the emergence of prayers that had been uttered in the dark, in heartbreak, and in barely breathing faith.
___________
Asher’s large blue eyes stare in rapt wonder at a butterfly that rests on the pale green leaves of a rose bush. He wonders aloud if it will land on his small, outstretched finger.
Jack’s small hand catches Asher’s hand as he stands on little tip-toes in the grass, leaning in and opening his eyes wider to see the butterfly, too.
Asher laughs first as it flies away and Jack joins in with his own delighted giggles.
They run back and forth through the grass in the warm afternoon sunshine, cheeks pink, screaming for no reason at all, and falling together in unbound energy.
I watch them, my two sweet little boys, and my heart is full. Full of the thankfulness and wonder I thought I’d lost.
The way wonder felt, the way it was, when David and I were dating and engaged is different from the way wonder looks now.
For a long time it disappeared altogether. It felt as though it ended with our wedding when just two weeks later, COVID shut the world down.
For all of the plentiful beauty and wonder we felt while dating and engaged, the light of it flickered and faded with depression, death, grief, and mental health struggles that followed shortly after.
Almost immediately the isolation and the Michigan winter pressed in on my spirit and I suffered through months of depression. It became so difficult during the following summer that we decided to move to California to live so that I could have relief.
It was not what David or myself had envisioned for the beginning of our lives together. Although I was happy to be back in California, I knew that it required immense sacrifice for David, and we felt the burden of that for different reasons.
Shortly after moving, in October of 2021, David lost his youngest sister to COVID. We, especially David, walked through the valley of the shadow of death for a long time.
Shortly after that, we became pregnant with our first baby, Asher. In the face of so much grief, this little life was a gift, a light in our dark.
But as a result of COVID David’s struggle with OCD began to intensify once again. During the whole of my pregnancy he battled fear and doubt with very little relief until shortly after Asher was born.
Over six years later, we now have two boys, and I have only very lately begun to see the reemergence of wonder again.
And this time, it’s not in grand or sweeping moments, like the sensation of falling in love.
Wonder didn’t end with a wedding, as I feared and felt for so long. But I had to relearn how to see it in all of the small moments that passed by so quietly that they almost became ordinary.
I now find wonder in the sleeping, sweet breath of my one year old as he falls asleep to the gentle rhythm of my heartbeat.
I find wonder in the way the dirt feels on my hands as I plant flowers with my boys in the warm spring sunshine.
Wonder lives in the early mornings spent reading my Bible while my boys snuggle in close and I enjoy a cup of coffee.
Wonder lives in the joy of writing and in remembering how it feels to create again.
And wonder lives as David and I fight to see and learn to know each other again as the years change and shape us. It lives when we remember that even though six years of marriage, two children, countless hours of lost sleep, and numerous valleys have threatened to pull us apart, our love grows more tenacious, steadfast, and more wondrous still.