Obviously, since you're all smart folks, you can do the math and figure out that if I've only ever dated one person, I ended up married to that person. He's my best friend, confidant, sounding board, and the most amazing father to our little girl.
But it wasn't always that way.
I could (and really should) write a juicy book about all the relationship drama we had early on-- crushing on each other, going to homecoming together, ignoring each other for two months, reconnecting on a missions trip in Jamaica under the stars (yes, it was as romantic as it sounds), returning to the States just to ignore each other for five months...
I could go on.
Oftentimes anniversary posts are sappy and glamorize relationships.
But what makes our marriage so incredible is that it was-- and is-- messy. It's real.
One quick story, and I don't know if you'll find this romantic or creepy, but here goes.
Randy and I officially met when I was a freshman in high school and he was a sophomore. I remember this detail because my hair was really poofy (I didn't need mousse or gel when I was homeschooled) and I had braces. The creepy part is that I knew exactly who Randy was before we even spoke. Fun fact: he played one season-- I think it was just one-- of volleyball, and I had seen him at the gym on my way to practice. I was like 12 when this happened. But I remember noticing him because he was competitive and mature on the court-- I look for the important things, folks.
And our first conversation was AFTER the cantata was over at the cast party. I'm pretty sure it went something like this. It was truly riveting:
Randy: So are you new to church?
Me: Oh, no, I just take piano lessons from Mr. McD.
And maybe something about how we would both be going to the same high school the next year.
So, as you can see, we established early on that we were really good at having in-person conversations.
Who knows when our next one was or what it entailed, but I actually started attending his dad's church. Randy and I were in youth group together, and on praise team together, and we were both in choir at the same high school. We had a lot of mutual friends, but if I'm being completely honest, we actually weren't really...friends.
If I'm being even MORE completely honest, in my head, we were in a secret competition for who was the smartest in Sunday School class. Sometimes I flipped my Bible to the necessary verse faster, so I won, but most of the time, he just knew exactly what to say (some things don't change).
And if I'm going to give you all this honesty, let me also confess that he was literally the first and ONLY guy who had ever intimidated me.
Since I knew I was never going to date in high school, I really didn't give guys much thought as dating material. Sometimes I flirted with them, or sometimes I had crushes on them, but it never went any further because I kissed dating goodbye, remember? So, guys never intimidated me.
But, y'all, this Randy kid... he was crazy smart. He was super athletic. He was definitely an introverted slightly socially awkward teenager (but so was I), but he was also incredibly funny and clever. He was respectful and mature.
The next in-person conversation I remember having with him is my junior year of high school. It must have been October of 2005. This conversation also occurred at church, and it went something like this (he may remember it differently):
Randy: Hey Christine, can I talk to you for a second?
Me: Sure!
Randy: So homecoming is approaching, and the football guys said that I have to go since I'm the quarterback. And I've really enjoyed the conversations we've had, and I'm hoping you reciprocate those feelings.
And then he asked me to homecoming.
A couple of highlights:
1) I went to homecoming with the quarterback. Yup.
2) He used "reciprocate"-- SWOON! Be still, my heart! Big vocabularies are uber attractive.
I can't even say, "and the rest is history," because our relationship went through many ups and downs. We didn't even start dating until over a year after that homecoming dance. We broke up twice in college--once was my doing and the other was his. I mean, y'all, we started dating when I was 17 and he was 18. We were BABIES.
But looking back, I now see how every single step those babies took, every mistake we made, every minute of uncertainty in our 17 and 18-year-old selves led us to the beautiful marriage we have today.
I've also learned a lot of lessons from our relationship:
1) Teenagers and young people ARE capable of deep, serious love. Don't minimize their high school relationships, something we adults so often do. Even if teens don't end up with that person, the love is still real. The pain of that breakup is still real. I mean, yes, I love Randy so much more deeply now than I did at 17 and 18 and 21, but that doesn't mean I didn't love him then (oh.my.gosh, y'all, that reminds me-- should I do a blog post about how we didn't say "I love you" for like literally two years?! Aaaaaah I forgot about that).
2) Young marriages aren't for everybody, but they can be amazing. People say that you need to "become your own person" before you marry. I guess that's partially true. But it's also beautiful to grow up WITH a person. Do you know how cool it is that Randy and I have almost 13 years of shared history? That we were there to support each other through life's biggest changes, and we are STILL here for each other? It's pretty special.
3) Humor diffuses tension like no other. I learned this one from Randy. When I nag him about socks on the living room coffee table, he replies, "Yeah, I was leaving them there just for you" before picking them up. And then I laugh. And instead of being irritated or potentially fighting, we just move on with life. We laugh constantly when we're together, and I'm forever grateful to be married to one of the most hilarious people I've ever met. He's taught me not to take things too seriously and to not sweat the small stuff.
4) Marriage isn't as much about finding the right person as it is about being the right person. I feel like some marriage expert said that, and I don't mean to plagiarize them, but the sentiment is so accurate. Neither Randy nor I necessarily believe in soulmates (though I grow more convinced he's mine every year). The idea of a soulmate takes the responsibility off the parties involved. If I "fall out of love" or "decide he's not the one," I have an easy out. A love where you are actively, constantly CHOOSING someone over and over again is much more real and powerful, in my opinion.
5) It's okay to marry someone who has terrible taste in football teams. I didn't know a Redskins fan could marry a Cowboys fan and both could survive more than one football season, but we are proof.
6) Marriages go through seasons, and that's okay. In one season, I was working full-time while Randy was in school. In another season, he was working and I was going to school. It's okay for the norm to change.
7) Don't get a cat. It will disappoint you by loving your husband more than it loves you, even though you're the one who wanted it. Rude.
8) Marry someone who was a cute baby. Because even if you carry the child for nine months, endure morning sickness and sciatic nerve pain, withstand labor and delivery, and nurse the child from your own breast... the baby will probably look like your husband. Thanks, universe.
I've only ever dated and loved one person, and on July 31st, we celebrated eight years of marriage. We had pre-marriage years of late night AIM conversations when we weren't sure we were even going to date. Post-marriage years of sleeping on an air mattress because we had no money for furniture. Years of trying to have a baby, losing a baby, becoming parents to the world's most adorable baby. Years of supporting each other through school and career changes and injuries and illness. Years of falling asleep holding hands. Years of texting each other memes about Lavar Ball and The Office and Tony Romo.
I hope and pray for many, many more sweet years together. Because otherwise whose dirty socks will I pick up from the living room?
Song of Solomon 8:6-7a
Place me like a seal over your heart,
like a seal on your arm;
for love is as strong as death,
its jealousy unyielding as the grave.
It burns like blazing fire,
like a mighty flame.
Many waters cannot quench love;
rivers cannot wash it away.
like a seal on your arm;
for love is as strong as death,
its jealousy unyielding as the grave.
It burns like blazing fire,
like a mighty flame.
Many waters cannot quench love;
rivers cannot wash it away.
Beautiful!
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