I share my story some in high school classrooms. At the end of my talk, I invite questions. Some student always seems to ask, “How do you drive?” Most teachers roll their eyes and some students direct their eyes toward the one who asked with a look of … really?
There’s nothing too exciting in my response. I turn the key, shift from park, place my fingers on the wheel, and hit the gas and go.
Now a better question is: “How did you get that good-looking woman in that picture to be your wife?”
Things weren’t always so grand for me on the dating scene. My senior year of high school, I timidly asked a gal: “You wouldn’t want to go the prom with me, would you?” She affirmed that statement with a “You’re right. No, thank you.” I almost asked out a gal who sat in front of me in a class until I learned she was married. Close call there! And for many years after that, I seemed a one-date wonder. I once thought I’d try to be a smooth operator and cozy up to a gal. I tripped over a chair and landed in her lap. Awkward! A series of failures to move from “dates” to “relationships” rarely went right.
I did wonder some if a woman could accept me with my outward deformity. But the greater issue was that of my crippled heart. When I looked in the mirror, I breathed in lies of self-defeat. My dad tossed a comment my way—one with no real passion or intent to harm—that my mouth seemed crooked. I reinforced the thought with every look, and I for a time believed it to be true—a barrier too large to scale. Missteps of communication with girls—taking risks that never ended as I had hoped—led me to think for a time that I might never find “Mrs. Right.”
And then at age 28, it happened.
From the moment I set eyes on Linda atop the church platform, playing her flute—a raging, and still ‘smokin’ hot, beauty—I desired to get to know her. I wondered, could our great God of heaven have her to be mine?
She accepted my offer for a first date. I’d been there, done that. She took me up on a second date, too. Surprise—surprise. On our third date I could stand it no more. Able now to laugh, I call it the eve of “my sermon at Buckeye Falls.” She listened and looked on in some disbelief as for 30 minutes I spoke of the depth of my love. As a sane woman would do, she freaked. But she did not flee. She mandated that we apply the brakes some for a time. So we casually “dated” with no lofty expectation or intent. We grew comfortable with one another and, free of felt pressure, just became better friends. (Now that boys is a recipe for success.)
During this time, God grew my belief. I had already begun to change some the negative tapes within. I looked in the mirror and expressed a more positive view of myself, reinforcing the wonder of God’s creation. Like you, I too am one fearfully and wonderfully made. Prayer reinforced my inner sense as a person of value and worth. This, coupled with Linda’s words of respect, acceptance and affirmation, helped me to become one even more secure. Relationships require us to give more time toward how we might love and encourage another. This helped me some to be less introspective. Backing off some of my “navel-gazing,” I learned how better to love, serve and value another. (Sometimes, even today, I get that right.)
June 27th, Linda and I will celebrate 21 years of marriage. What a blessing! God allowed me to move to the head of the class, to land a great catch—to out-kick my punt coverage in having her as my lifelong partner and mate.
She is beautiful outside—her blue eyes enough to melt me most anytime. Yet it is the radiance of her heart that continues to attract me most. I admire her laid back, go with the flow nature. And more impressive still is how God has so uniquely coupled this with the firm resolve to get things done—to keep our family moving. She’s not afraid in the least to tell me her mind: “Now what in the world are you thinking? Really? We’ll do that this way. (And most times, she’s even right.)
She is one principled and smart. Days prior to our marriage she erased my $2,000 credit card. “That will never happen again,” she said. It hasn’t. She pays our bills in full each month.
The Christian life modeled by her folks has helped shape her into a woman of noble, moral character. Her faithfulness to me I never have cause to doubt. Ours is a relationship steeped in mutual trust and commitment—in spite of a history of foibles in how I communicate. We’ve had our share of arguments. We can agitate one-another. But never once—NEVER—has Linda used my physical deformities in attack. (My mental deficiencies perhaps; that’s fair) But she hasn’t chucked slurs of my hands or feet. Well done, I say.
This week, we celebrate Mother’s Day. So I introduce you to her and celebrate her as “MOM” to our two boys. Some days she’d say she has “three” boys, but that, too, is another story. The sacrificial love she gives in a commitment of much time, energy, nurture and comfort—is also a thing of beauty to behold. Kyle and Ryan, too, would say that their mom “rocks.”
So if we cross paths, and you are really fishing for something to ask me, “How about this: “Dude, how in the world is it that you married her?”
With God, all things are possible, I know. Do you believe?