Ten Years -- Part 1

A little more than a week ago, my best friend and I celebrated ten years of marriage.  Thinking back on our ten years makes my heart overflow with thankfulness.  Ten years ago, we told each other that a lifetime together didn't really seem like long enough.  That's probably even more true today.  So, in celebration of all that is our life together, I'd like to start at the beginning.

I clearly remember the first time I saw Shandy.  It was a late fall evening circa 1990.  My parents had recently started going to a new church - a country church about 12 miles from the nearest town.  There he was, ten years old (or so), tallish and skinny, shaggy hair under a baseball cap, and tan from a summer spent outside.  Whatever it was, he made my nine-year-old heart go pitter-pat.  For the next several years, I flip-flopped between encouraging and trying to squelch my little crushes on him.  Once, my family was invited over for dinner at his family's home.  It was a sign, I was sure.  His older sister and I spent that evening in her room with the pink carpet, drawing sailboats with oil pastels and talking about how she would help him see that he was supposed to marry me.  She even gave me his 8th grade school picture.  He was wearing a blue striped shirt. I showed a few girls at my school.  "Um, no, he's not my boyfriend.  I just like him.  A lot."

In junior high, I made it known to some fellow church-friends that I liked him.  One night they arranged, amidst teasing, for us to go on a date when I turned 16.  I'm still not sure if he agreed to it.  But I know he didn't disagree.  We laughed about it, but I kept hope that it would really happen.  There are so many youth group memories, but to name a few: the time he gave several insightful analogies for one second of eternity, the night we went Christmas caroling and ended up sitting next to each other in the back of his parent's suburban and our legs were touching and he told me a joke in which the punchline was "Joe mama", the time he wrote "Shandy the Deer Slayer" as his name on a sign-up sheet, the year he grew like a foot, the year he missed a whole bunch of youth group because he had snowmobile safety (not that I noticed).  

I wasn't the type of girl to date a bunch of boys.  It always made sense to me that you should date someone to see if you wanted to marry him.  And if I already knew I wouldn't marry a boy, then I really didn't think it would be wise or kind or worth my time to date him.  But there was one boy who I knew I could marry.  He just didn't know it yet.  There was no date at 16, but around that time I felt a strong need to let him know that I liked him.  And that he could ask me out.  You know, in case that was what the hold-up was.  So one night before or after youth group, I entered the gym in which he was playing a basketball game with friends.  I simply walked right up into the basketball game and said, "Hey, I need to talk to you!".  He came over, holding the ball, and looked at the floor while I explained that I would like to get to know him better and some other things that I'm sure were completely intelligent and not awkward at all.  He never once looked up from the floor.  Then I felt the need to end the one-sided and painfully awkward conversation, so I stuck out my hand and said something like, "Let's shake on it."  Then I tore out of the gym like I was on fire and ran straight to my parent's car and put my head in my hands.  "Let's shake on it?  What was I thinking? Let's shake on it?!?!?!  Ugh!  He will never look at me or speak to me again!!"  

But he did.  During my junior year.  To set me up on a date with his friend.  Meh, I thought.  His friend is cute and I'm one step closer to him, so why not?  I did date his friend.  And I did get closer to Shandy.  I started hanging out with his friends a lot.  And his girlfriend even showed up a couple times.  I won't pretend that I didn't want to claw her eyes out.  I sort of did.  Oh, but I did make her bleed in a game of spoons once.  Sorry, Katie.  The boy is mine.  Or something.  

Fastforward to the end of the summer of 1999.  We had started hanging out more.  Sometimes just the two of us.  We were becoming genuine friends.  And he was so fun to be around.  And so tall and handsome.  And so, so, so great.  So when he called in late August, just before he headed off to college, and asked if I could hang out and talk, I said yes.  We went to a park and swung and he asked if I thought he should break up with his girlfriend.  I was, of course, in full support of that decision.  Then we went to Dairy Queen.  And then, just for fun, he took me to Showboat (a musical filled with local talent that's on a boat on the Mississippi River).  He paid.  We saw some church-ladies.  And then we saw his girlfriend.  

As we drove home, he was a bit distraught about what she might say about his dating me while dating her, but all I could do was revel in the Backstreet Boys on the radio and belt out along with them, "You are....my fi-re....."

To be continued......