As part of the S.W.A.K. carnival, a whole bunch of gals are sharing their love stories, and although there are some great prizes involved, mostly I just think it's a great way to remember why we fell in love with our husbands in the first place. I love hearing other peoples' love stories.
Back in my wandering days, I frequented a western dance club called Cowboys, and ended up on a line dancing team. We didn't compete, but did shows at various places and performed on "Club Dance", which was sort of just a televised dance club. One of the dancers on the team was a guy named Eric. I danced with him, got to know him a little, but never dated him. About that time, my childhood friend Lisa became single again. As she planned her move back into the state, I became determined to provide her with an instant new life: I arranged a part time job for her til she found something better, told her she could move into my house as a roommate, and proceeded to drag her out to all my social hot spots. (Lisa, by the way, would have been perfectly capable of all that on her own, but I've always been a "fixer.") Soon, she and Eric met, and when she wasn't sure how to respond when he asked her out, I urged her on with this single-girl wisdom: "Go on at least one date, because it's a free meal and we're broke!" She agreed to the date, he cooked her dinner, and they were an item from then on. That was back in 1994.
Lisa and Eric often hosted cook-outs, holiday parties, and such, so over the years I got to know many of their other friends. Several of those were guys that Eric had been friends with since high school, and among those was a guy named Ken. Ten or eleven years ago, several of the Cowboy's gang auditioned as dancers for a NBA commercial, and some of us were chosen among the hoard of swing dancers who would appear for about one-tenth of a second in the commercial with a great swing band called Big Bad Voodoo Daddies. Ken and I were both married back then, but not to each other, and not to our dance partners, either; I danced with a guy named Kenny (not to be confused with Ken), and Ken danced with a girl named Sonya. Other than doing that commercial, I can vaguely remember a few conversations with Ken at various cook-outs, and we were both in Lisa & Eric's wedding in 1998.
Fast-forward several years, and Ken and I were both going through divorce. We commiserated, as people seem to love to do (just get a few moms in a room and ask about birthing stories, and you'll see what I mean!), and through that, we became friends. Ken walked through a very dark time with me, and helped me in a million big and small ways. At some point we realized we were more than friends, though neither of us can pinpoint when exactly that was. During that time, and even more since then, Ken has encouraged me so much, and we have both grown in our relationship with the Lord. We learned a lot of very difficult lessons through our failed marriages, as I've written about before, and will do more in the future.
Ken proposed on bended knee in a little gazebo in a small town park near here. Because I was wary of getting married again, Ken asked my mom, Lisa, and a couple of other select friends to write a letter of recommendation for him -- something we had joked about before -- and he had those in a file in the car, so when I hesitated after he popped the question, he told me about them and we both laughed. Then I said yes, and we both cried.
Several months later, we were married in that same little gazebo, with just a few of our closest friends and family, including Lisa and Eric.
We danced a little right there in the gazebo, and then had a mini reception nearby at my favorite tea room.
I am so blessed to have this super man by my side in marriage, and in life.
Tomorrow is Valentine's day. No matter what your love story looks like, I hope you'll take a few moments to re-live the best parts, thank the Lord for your spouse, and go seal that love with a kiss!
A funny side-story: at Ken's step-brother's wedding, we learned that in the Vietnamese culture, whoever introduced the bride and groom get a special gift: the head of the wedding pig (given by the groom's family to the bride's family on the wedding day). We figured that meant Eric and Lisa were way overdue in giving me a pig's head, but Ken and I would owe them a pig's head, too, so we're happy that it's all worked out evenly now and no porcine parts need be exchanged at this point.
Back in my wandering days, I frequented a western dance club called Cowboys, and ended up on a line dancing team. We didn't compete, but did shows at various places and performed on "Club Dance", which was sort of just a televised dance club. One of the dancers on the team was a guy named Eric. I danced with him, got to know him a little, but never dated him. About that time, my childhood friend Lisa became single again. As she planned her move back into the state, I became determined to provide her with an instant new life: I arranged a part time job for her til she found something better, told her she could move into my house as a roommate, and proceeded to drag her out to all my social hot spots. (Lisa, by the way, would have been perfectly capable of all that on her own, but I've always been a "fixer.") Soon, she and Eric met, and when she wasn't sure how to respond when he asked her out, I urged her on with this single-girl wisdom: "Go on at least one date, because it's a free meal and we're broke!" She agreed to the date, he cooked her dinner, and they were an item from then on. That was back in 1994.
Lisa and Eric often hosted cook-outs, holiday parties, and such, so over the years I got to know many of their other friends. Several of those were guys that Eric had been friends with since high school, and among those was a guy named Ken. Ten or eleven years ago, several of the Cowboy's gang auditioned as dancers for a NBA commercial, and some of us were chosen among the hoard of swing dancers who would appear for about one-tenth of a second in the commercial with a great swing band called Big Bad Voodoo Daddies. Ken and I were both married back then, but not to each other, and not to our dance partners, either; I danced with a guy named Kenny (not to be confused with Ken), and Ken danced with a girl named Sonya. Other than doing that commercial, I can vaguely remember a few conversations with Ken at various cook-outs, and we were both in Lisa & Eric's wedding in 1998.
Fast-forward several years, and Ken and I were both going through divorce. We commiserated, as people seem to love to do (just get a few moms in a room and ask about birthing stories, and you'll see what I mean!), and through that, we became friends. Ken walked through a very dark time with me, and helped me in a million big and small ways. At some point we realized we were more than friends, though neither of us can pinpoint when exactly that was. During that time, and even more since then, Ken has encouraged me so much, and we have both grown in our relationship with the Lord. We learned a lot of very difficult lessons through our failed marriages, as I've written about before, and will do more in the future.Ken proposed on bended knee in a little gazebo in a small town park near here. Because I was wary of getting married again, Ken asked my mom, Lisa, and a couple of other select friends to write a letter of recommendation for him -- something we had joked about before -- and he had those in a file in the car, so when I hesitated after he popped the question, he told me about them and we both laughed. Then I said yes, and we both cried.
Several months later, we were married in that same little gazebo, with just a few of our closest friends and family, including Lisa and Eric.
We danced a little right there in the gazebo, and then had a mini reception nearby at my favorite tea room.I am so blessed to have this super man by my side in marriage, and in life.
Tomorrow is Valentine's day. No matter what your love story looks like, I hope you'll take a few moments to re-live the best parts, thank the Lord for your spouse, and go seal that love with a kiss!
A funny side-story: at Ken's step-brother's wedding, we learned that in the Vietnamese culture, whoever introduced the bride and groom get a special gift: the head of the wedding pig (given by the groom's family to the bride's family on the wedding day). We figured that meant Eric and Lisa were way overdue in giving me a pig's head, but Ken and I would owe them a pig's head, too, so we're happy that it's all worked out evenly now and no porcine parts need be exchanged at this point.
