Our Story: The Wait

My husband and I waited until marriage to have sex. That's practically unheard of these days, I know. Sometimes I wonder if we only waited for fear of being caught in an awkward situation, but then I remember the times we had opportunity but parted ourselves anyway. There is one time in particular that frequently comes to mind, and occasionally I feel we should win some sort of medal for purity - though most of the world would just call us foolish.

One year, before my man graduated from high school (I was in my second year of college), I went to Orlando with his family. At the resort, I shared a room with his sister, and he and his brother slept on the hide-a-bed in the living room. On our last day there he and I were sent back up to the room for a forgotten key to return it to the office. While in the room, we thought to double check for any other forgotten items. We also, since we were alone, essentially locked in the room, took the opportunity to kiss without his family members making comments. Two young people rarely kiss in private without going horizontal, so it follows that we ended up on one of the beds, he on top of me. 

This, of course, would have been the opportune time for us to tear each others' clothes off. And oh, we wanted to. Between kisses we talked about how exciting it would be, and how no one would know. After all, society expected it of us anyway, right? Who would ever believe we didn't? 

But we stood up, grabbed the spare key, and returned it to the office. Then we crawled into the van with the rest of his family, unembarrassed, and watched the resort disappear into the endless line of Disney-themed hotels and chain restaurants. That's my favorite part.

I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem,
    that you not stir up or awaken love
    until it pleases.

               Song of Solomon 8:4

Our Story: A Ring and a Dream

Two days ago my husband and I completely neglected to acknowledge the anniversary of a pretty important day in our life history - our engagement. We're married now, so who really cares anyway, but still. I have to admit I felt like a bum of a wife, but what about that husband of mine? It's not like he remembered to bring it up, either. In fact, he worked until midnight that day. Yeah, that's right. Hardly even saw him. Just proving once again that we're not the types to use any excuse to celebrate. But we do celebrate when we feel the occasion. Mostly, we like it when it's just us, together.

It's okay, though. I got to hang out with a pretty cool former roommate of mine after she got off work at the STATE CAPITOL! That's right, we're growing up. I have a friend who works for the Republican party of the state of Minnesota. Okay, she doesn't get paid, but she's a recent grad and politicians don't technically have to pay their help. It's called an internship. But she does get to go to ritzy parties and schmooze with the higher-ups. Pretty cool.

Point is, I wasn't lonely, it was still a good time. However, I did miss the opportunity to update this on time to keep current events, well, *current*. To push it even further back, the next day, Mr. Wonderful and I said, "to heck with the world and responsibility!" and spent a day hanging out together, just being friends. So we did technically celebrate the day he gave me a pretty ring that he actually shouldn't have been able to afford.

Enough presentation. Here's the story you've all been waiting for:

Next week Garth and I are going to family camp with his family. We seriously gave up our date for the month, and our trip north to go to Sonshine Festival just so we could go. I know, most people don't give up their romantic dates for time with their in-laws; but this place is really important to him, and in turn, has become quite important to me.

The first year Garth's family went to Camp Okoboji, Garth was an infant. So, his second year there he was only one year old, and so on and so forth. He and his family have been going there every summer for his entire life. It's not a part of the summer he's willing to give up. I have been going with them since year two of our relationship, because we met in high school, and the first summer we were dating my dad said there was "absolutely no way" I would be going camping with my boyfriend. So, this will be my fourth year going to camp.

The second year I went to camp with Garth and his family, Garth had a surprise for me.

This is hard to admit, but the first year we were dating, Garth took a very strong position on his desire to marry me. I didn't want to talk about it for fear of being foolish and naive, so it hardly ever came up; but eventually we did start to discuss the possibility. As we got to know each other more, we talked about what we wanted to do when we grew up; what kind of house we each wanted to live in, number of future kids we expected to have, when we wanted to get married, and how we'd take it all in stride in God's timing. Except for my condition that I needed at least six months to plan a wedding, which I guess would have been negotiable, because things always are with God, but I was pretty stubborn about it. When he discovered that I wanted a winter wedding, he thought it was a cool idea, and I suppose he kind of just kept that in mind.

A few days before camp I had made plans to hang out with Garth after I got done babysitting. He told me he had to work during the time I would be babysitting, and that he would call me when he got done. I was oh so unsuspecting.

Here's what I didn't know: Garth did not have to work. In fact, that morning, he called his dad and found that he was not seeing patients, picked up his father, and took him out of town. They went to a local jewelery store in Rochester, MN, and bought a ring.

I should mention something here. Wait, swallow whatever you're drinking. This one's a doozy... Garth was still eighteen. He had just about two months earlier graduated from high school. Don't ask me what we were thinking. That we could love each other forever, I suppose. So far, we haven't been wrong.

Back to the story. You want me to finish this one, trust me.

So we hung out that night. He had the ring in his pocket, "just in case." I never even knew. So there we were, sitting on the couch of friends whose house I was staying in while they were on vacation - him buzzing with an excitement, a secret, that I wasn't even aware of.

"I'm excited for camp." He announced, then added, decisively, "We're going to go on lots of walks."

"Oh are we?" I looked at him, wondering where he was coming from. It was going to be my second year there, I knew the grounds.

"Yup. I want to take you on the trails."

I didn't remember any trails, but not knowing him to be a liar, I figured I just missed out the year before. "Okay, so should I bring my camera? Oh! And a dress, so we can take cool pictures? I need some new, good pictures of me."

"Yeah, oh yes, bring a camera, and a dress." His face just shined.

A few days later, when we got to camp and got our schedules, he sat me down and wanted to decide when we would go on our walk. We decided to go the next morning, as it was supposed to rain later in the week. He acted a lot like it was a very big decision, but I thought maybe he was just happy to be at camp. I also still thought there must be some pretty cool trails that he was excited to finally show me.

The next morning I put on my dress, grabbed my camera, and we headed toward the door. I stopped, realizing I forgot something, "I forgot to put on my rings!" I said, feeling a little bare without the two rings my mom had given me as gifts. My sisters both had rings that matched. "You don't need them right now," was Garth's reply. Then he grabbed my hand and said, "let's go to the beach!"

Yeah, I should have seen it there, but I still wasn't getting it.

When we got to the beach, we went straight to the shore, at the base of the cross that stands there. I took a few pictures, because it was a bright, beautiful morning and the sun was just perfection on the beachy scene. I wanted to go out to the dock, but there were people there, so I started walking back in the direction of camp.

Garth gave my hand a squeeze, then bumped me onto a bench. We had our backs to the beach at this point, but he was being snugly, so I didn't mind. He put his arm around me and told me that he loved me. I put my head on his shoulder and said that I loved him, too.

"I brought you something." He said, looking a little smug, and a little nervous. I watched him reach into his pocket.

"You brought me something?" I mimicked.

He got down on one knee, and I saw a little white box in his hand. He looked up and nervously licked his lips as he opened the box. "Bre, will you marry me?"

And that was it. No speech, no confession of his undying love. Only an eighteen year old boy with a ring and a dream; and a big heart for following God. I knew that if he was asking me this question now, he had been praying hard about it for some time.

The little diamond ring was far more than I expected. Tears came to my eyes as I thought of this tender vision before me, a side of him that had been hinted to but never seen. "Yeah." I replied. Then, feeling a bit foolish, I said, "I mean, 'yes'. Yes!"

We both sat there for a moment. Me staring at the ring, him watching me. "Take it." he said, bringing the box a little closer to me.

I just stared at it, bewildered. I put out my hand, then stopped. "I can't!" I laughed a little. He took it out of the box and put it on my finger, then came to sit beside me again.

After I was almost over the shock, I took out my camera and snapped a few pictures of the two of us, and of the ring. (One of those pictures is the one you find at the top of my blog page.)

We enjoyed the time together, being the only ones who knew, before going back to make calls, change our Facebook relationship status to make it "Facebook official", and announce our engagement to his astonished family.

Thanks to Facebook, by the way, when we got home from camp at the end of the week there was scarcely a soul who had to be told of our engagement. Everyone knew. Everyone was so excited. But no one rejoiced more than Garth and I.

Why the Bride Wears White

One year and a half ago, at the age of twenty, I walked down the aisle in the most beautiful dress to ever adorn my body, ready to commit myself to one man for the rest of my life. I wore white.

It wasn't about the white dress, the flowers, the music, the food. It wasn't about family or friends. It was hardly even about the two of us, though our wedding was the occasion for celebration. To my husband and I, it was all about God, forgiveness, and what was done for us, not by us.

The dress was a special blessing, though, as it had itself just months before seen its fiftieth year; and for me it was free. The dress was Garth's grandmother's. After looking at her wedding album on her's and her husband's fiftieth wedding anniversary, she heard that I had swooned over the dress and suggested that it could be made to look modern with a few tweaks. A month later, when her grandson proposed to me, she stopped by unexpectedly and dropped it off. A beautiful lace dress the likes of which I had never even dreamed of, preserved perfectly after fifty years, was put on my body lovingly by my now sister-in-law. It fit perfectly.

After quite a few moderations in under six months' time, it was quite uniquely beautiful, certainly one-of-a-kind, and I felt terribly undeserving of it.

During our engagement, my husband and I were both attending the same college. In my British literature class we discussed Queen Victoria I for a few days. I learned at this time the real reason the bride wears white, or how it started as a trend, anyway, which had less to do with chastity than sheer virtue. Women back in Queen Victoria I's time would wear elaborately beautiful dresses filled with color to show their social/economic status. Queen Victoria, as a bride, wore white to show she was frugal, as England was in the midst of economic crisis. Talk about irony! Today, that famed white dress is the most expensive dress most women will ever wear. This knowledge really changed my perspective.

So why then is this dress perceived today as a vision of purity? Well, it is not completely off-base, though maybe twisted a bit by our society. Actually, it may just be a tradition that the bride be perceived as pure, emphasized in weddings today by the unblemished white of a wedding dress.

We've all heard the jokes when certain "undeserving" women wear white on their wedding day. We may laugh, but there is a different way we could look at it. A way that shows us far deeper and broader the implications of marriage, and a demonstration of God's love and forgiveness.

This revelation came over me one day when I was reading Ephesians 5. Starting at verse 25, Paul is admonishing men to love their wives "as Christ loved the church" so that, "he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish." Ephesians 5:26-27 (ESV, emphasis added).

Now, I had read this passage plenty of times before, but on that particular day, I teared up. It dawned on me that the purity of the bride is not dependent on the color of the wedding dress, but the concept of the convent act of marriage that is significant. At the moment of the covenant it does not matter what has happened in the woman's past, who she was before, or what sins she has committed. What matters is the act of committing herself to one man for the rest of her life, and his intent toward her. That sanctifies her. She becomes a radiant example of what we are to Christ, and in that moment, she is pure.

Men, I would admonish you to treat your wives (present, future, or unknown) in a way that makes her a respectable person, so that no one can say a bad word about her. This is how Christ demonstrates His love for the church, and our human act of marriage is a significant demonstration of that covenant; that love. A woman forgiven of her past wrongs by a man who chooses to love her unconditionally is a woman worthy of being presented in splendor; holy and without blemish.

Our Story: Becoming "Official"

During spring break in 2008, when Garth and I were still not quite a couple, Garth's family was going to Hawaii with his grandparents. I was a little sad knowing I wouldn't get to see him for over a week, especially a week when we had no school, but I was going to stay with a friend while her parents were out of town so I wasn't too heartbroken. Besides, I was still trying to convince myself not to get attached to the boy.

At youth group a few days before they were heading on their trip to the Warm Lands, Garth's mom asked me what I wanted them to bring back for me. I told her I really didn't want anything, that they didn't have to get a gift for me, but she wouldn't have it. Gifting is not my love language. In fact, they tend to make me a little uncomfortable, and being Garth's not-girlfriend made gifts extremely uncomfortable for me.

When I dropped him off after youth group that night, we had one of our nice talks that we always had, as he insisted he wanted to listen to the radio, and would never leave my car. When he finally did leave, I looked through the open door before he closed it and said, "What? No hug?" He smiled and leaned in across the seat, and what I got was not a hug.

Nope, he laughed nervously, leaned in, and gave me a very nice kiss. I was still smiling when I went to rehearsal for chamber orchestra the next morning. My obvious grin that led my friends to see right through to the happenings of the night before was fairly humiliating; but it was such a good feeling.

 That weekend I went over to his house one last time before he went thousands of miles away for ten days. We were sitting on the couch talking, picking on each other as we always seemed to do, and he asked me if I would call him my boyfriend. He wanted to know before he went away. I thought for a few moments, and responded that I would call him my boyfriend if I missed him while he was gone. Yes, I am aware that I was mean, but remember that I was "morally opposed" to becoming attached to him.

After all, I didn't want to ruin whatever possibilities he may have had with the island girls. If only I had known he just wasn't that type.

He left for a family vacation, and I moved into my friend's house for a week and pretended to be a grown-up for awhile. Three days went by, and I did not hear from Garth.

One of the last nights of spring break, halfway through Garth's vacation, my friend and I threw a party. We had promised her parents that we wouldn't have anyone over, but we just couldn't go a whole week without breaking that rule. We went out and got some pop, and picked up the guys so that there wouldn't be any cars sitting outside the house, lest the neighbors be watchful. As we entered the neighborhood, we had everyone duck down in my friend's mom's Nissan Murano (nice big car for transporting a number of teenagers). We had rented some movies, and ordered a pizza. I remember us making fun of ourselves for throwing a party while her parents were out of town, and our drinking consisted only of caffeinated beverages. It was a fun night though, and I don't know if her parents ever did find out, but I'm sure they wouldn't have cared if they knew.

As our party was in full swing, my phone rang. I thought perhaps it was my parents, they hadn't heard from me all week, after all. I was surprised, and very excited, to see Garth's name light up on my phone. I took the call and ran upstairs, and the boy who claimed to not do well talking on the phone kept me retained for an hour.

Yup, he played it well. Gave me time to miss him, then called to show he cared. Smart guy, there. And I didn't suspect a thing.

When he came back the next week I ran over to see him during lunch. He was so excited to see me that he lifted me off the floor when we hugged. I felt like I was living a fairytale for the first time in my life. To my high school child self, this was the way it was supposed to be. The guy had me hooked.

That weekend, I went to his house to "finally" hang out with him, and hear tales of island life from his family. When I got there, his mom sent him away and they all acted suspiciously. Garth went to his room and came back with his arms clasped behind his back. He was acting nervous. He gave me a hug and put a tiny bag in my hand.

I opened my hand to find a string of pearls. I had mentioned once, offhandedly, that I loved pearls, and I couldn't believe he remembered. Maybe he didn't, and just had good taste, but either way he had me.

A week later I told him that I did miss him while he was gone, and that I would like to call him my boyfriend. It was official.