My hero

I've been trying for weeks now to write a blog about my husband. It's not that I can't think of anything to say...it's the opposite. I could tell our story here--I want to tell our story here, but I want to tell it in a way that does him justice.

I could make a really long story short and just say that my husband is my hero. My miracle. That about sums it up in a nutshell.

If you're still reading, you must prefer unabridged versions of things. Me too.

The main reason I love telling our story is because it is an amazing example of God's patience with us, the power of prayer, and the healing that comes from love.


I first saw Kevin five years ago. Five years ago, I was in a very different place in my life. I wasn't married, wasn't dating, wasn't particularly happy. But five years ago was also sort of a new beginning for me. I'd started a new job on a new campus, bought a new house, made some new friends and really hoped for a new start.


I will never forget the first time I saw him. He was a coach, new to the district. He wasn't a first year teacher, but he wasn't a five year veteran like me ;). His boss described him as this great Christian role model for our kids. He had, after all, just returned from a mission trip to Russia. He would be heading up our campus's FCA. Let's all hear it for Coach Reed!

My very first thought about my husband, the first time I ever saw him, was he is waaaay too good for me. And too young. Don't forget too young. Basically, I dismissed him. Yet somehow, oddly enough, I did not dismiss the moment. It's a photograph I keep safely stored in my mind.


That was August. We didn't have an actual conversation until around March. But during the months in between, three different people told me that I really needed to get to know "that Coach Reed." He was soooo nice. Now for someone who was spending most of my time on the bitter side of the tracks in those days, saying someone was "nice" was about as big a draw for me as the plague. I didn't want "nice," or at least that's what I said. The truth was, I was pretty sure "nice" wouldn't want me.


Fast forward to March-ish. I'd determined that although Coach Reed was too perfect for me, he'd be a great match for my beautiful niece. I wanted to get to know him, so that I could tell her more about him. Kevin and I began emailing each other occasionally (I originally asked him for directions to College Station...since he was a good Aggie and all), and as time went on, I found that I really looked forward to hearing from him. Yes, he was indeed nice. And funny. And normal. Not at all what I had envisioned him to be. He didn't quote scripture in every email. He just had this quality...I didn't see him as this Christian-missionary-quasi-angel anymore. He was just a good, Christian guy. And he was starting to feel like a friend. Who liked me. Maybe.

Suddenly, the whole idea of setting him up with my niece just seemed weird.


What I didn't realize at the time was how many people in my life that were praying for me to meet someone like Kevin. I certainly wasn't praying for that. To be completely honest, during that time I wasn't praying at all. I still went to church. I went through all the motions. But I had been giving God the silent treatment for a very long time. I wasn't mad at Him so much as I was afraid of what He was going to say to me. I was a disappointment.

But when I realized that I might actually like Kevin--and he might actually like me back--I started praying again. And no, I wasn't praying for him to fall hopelessly in love with me. I knew better. It was not an easy process. I had A LOT to be forgiven for. I had A LOT to forgive myself for. But I didn't want to be someone I wasn't in front of him. I couldn't put on the "good Christian girl" mask and expect him to buy it. I wanted to be completely me. The old me. The me I actually liked. It took a while to find that girl again.


After emailing each other for a couple of months and flirting a little along the way, one of my friends had had enough. (Keep in mind, when you teach junior high kids, you tend to take on their weird relationship quirks) She was going to go and tell him to ask me out, for goodness sakes. So she did.

He said he had "other irons in the fire."


Gosh.

(By the way, he tells that part of the story differently. His version makes him sound less like a player. Funny.)


I should've been really, really disappointed at that response, but I wasn't. I felt strangely at peace about it. My actual thoughts were more along the lines of he may be busy now, but he WILL ask me out eventually. I somehow just knew this. And I was willing to wait him out. Patience was not my virtue, and yet, I was totally okay with this.

Turns out I didn't have to wait long. A week, I think.


In the days leading up to our real first date, we hung out a little here and there. I kept waiting to find a flaw, something that would drive me crazy. A deal breaker. In my past relationships there were always deal breakers. Tennis shoes with Wranglers. Too much togetherness. Weird teeth. Annoying laughs. You get the picture. Even if I wasn't the one to end the relationship, there was always something that drove me a little nuts. I'd never met a guy like Kevin. Someone I genuinely liked being around.


After our first date, I remember praying just before I fell asleep...I'd never met someone like this. He was so polite and kind and respectful of me as a woman, and yet it didn't drive me insane or cause me to feel suffocated.

I knew, KNEW, he was sent to Van just for me. To rescue me. To amaze me.

The thing I wasn't sure of was what the rest of the story was going to be. I didn't deserve him. I still didn't dare pray that God make him fall head over heels in love with me. Instead, I thanked Him every single day for showing me how I wanted to be treated. How it feels to be respected. That there were nice guys in the world. I actually told God that if Kevin walked out of my life at that very moment, I would still be forever grateful that I met him. And I meant it.

The rest, you could say, is history.


I think a lot about how it all came together. The way God worked to bring Kevin to little ol' Van, Texas. The more I think about it, the more I realize that the moment we met was literally years in the making. Yesterday, I was thinking about a conversation I'd had with a friend in which she said I probably would've met Kevin regardless of the choices I'd made about college. Maybe. But I never would've appreciated him--understood what a miracle he truly is to me--without walking down the road I did to get to him. I had to make a lot of mistakes first. I had to grow up.


I try not to let a day go by without reminding myself that I have a truly blessed life. Five years later, I love my husband more than I ever imagined possible. He is just as kind and loving now as he was then. And he's way funnier. He's more thoughtful than I am. He makes me feel pretty. He's smart and sensible, and everything he does is with the future of our family in mind. And don't even get me started on what an amazing daddy he is. He knows every single chink in my armor, yet he has never once taken aim at any of them.

He is amazing.


My hero.


My miracle.