Our Story -- Part 1

March 15th was my six-year wedding anniversary.  To celebrate, I thought I'd share "Our Story" with y'all.  I've been It's something I've been wanting to do for a while and now I finally have an excuse!  Our Story is kind of a long one when told right, so I'm going to do it in parts.  (Also, I've been working on this post for almost two weeks.  Who knew that writing out Our Story would be so difficult?!)  Enjoy!

When I was fifteen, I got a job working at the Chick-fil-A in our town.  It was my first real job besides babysitting and I loved it.  At first, I could only work Saturdays from 11-3, but when I turned sixteen, I began to work the closing shift.

Shortly after making the switch from days to nights, the night manager put me in the drive thru window.  I guess I did a pretty good job, because working the drive thru became my full-time position.

One spring evening, this guy pulled up to the window, looked at me kind of funny, and said, "Are you the pastor's daughter at Crosswalk?"

You guys.  I'm not going to lie.  I was freaked out.  I had never seen this guy before in my life.  

"Yeah," I responded, as normally as I could.  My hands were shaking as I handed him back his card; I'm sure my face was beet red and my eyes all watery.  I am not exaggerating one bit.  That's a pretty standard reaction for me when I get nervous or embarrassed.

I don't remember how the rest of the transaction went.  I purposefully put it out of my mind.  It was traumatic, y'all.  I think I blocked part of it from my memory, and even now some things are hazy.  Like... I have no idea what he looked like or what kind of car he drove (although I thought it was silver).

Anyway.  A few days later, I'm hanging out at church after service, minding my own business, chatting with friends... when I see him.

My first thought?  He followed me here; I have a stalker!  

Self-centered and dramatic?  Yeah.  But hey, I was a 16-year-old girl and homeschooled.  I feel like I was pretty entitled to create a little drama for myself at this point in my relatively drama-free life.

I mean, the possibility that he'd been going to church for a while and I'd just never seen him was a little far-fetched, right?  I was the pastor's kid.  It was pretty much my job to meet new people.  Especially tall, dark, and handsome guys in crisp white shirts and slacks.

Right.  He had definitely followed me.

And so I did what any sane 16-year-old girl would do in this situation:  hide in the bathroom.

My bathroom-hiding continued every time I saw him at church over the next month or so, and then suddenly I didn't see him any more.  In fact, three or four months went by without so much as a glimpse of him.  Not that I'm complaining.  I was so relieved.

But then, one fall day, he returned. . .

. . . continue to part two . . .