Story #3

Will and Rosina Schmucker

“I don't like squishy food,” I said, over my first meal in the dining room at Calvary Bible School. “When I was a little girl, I once sat at the table for over two hours refusing to eat my soup. The soup had horrible slimy lumps in it that made me feel like choking.”

Will, the young man across the table, grinned a little to himself. I don't like strange food textures, either, he thought, and took a second look at this interesting, blue-eyed girl. Right away he knew that he wanted to get to know me better. For him, it was practically love at first sight.

I was oblivious to his interest, but CBS came as a shock to me in other ways. My youth was not the carefree, happy time that many people experience. Just when I should have been partying with friends, exulting in my new driver's license, and enjoying a new job, I was completely overwhelmed with the most painful season of my life—losing my hearing. While my peers went out for ice cream on summer evenings, my life revolved around surgeries and doctor appointments. Often I skipped social activities because of intense physical and emotional pain. As a result, when I did go with the youth group, I went as an Invisible Woman, the ghost who glided in and out without notice. Many times I would slink home from the volleyball game and bury my sorrows in the pages of a book about apologetics or church history.

However, at Bible School I somehow came out of the woodwork. I was starving to know more about God in both my head and heart, and others in my classes had the same desire. For the first time in years, I began to feel validated and acknowledged as a person, and Will was part of this journey. We took many of the same classes, and I felt a spiritual connection almost immediately. When he spoke up in class, his words resonated with me. I didn't realize it then, but he says now that he often tried to sit near me in class.

The second term I spent at Bible School, I was asked to participate in a panel discussion/debate with six others, including Will. We all met in a classroom to go over our material, and usually ended up on a wonderful theological tangent. I loved the mental stimulation and camaraderie! Through our times in a small group, I began to notice Will more. He was intelligent, kind, and quirky, and I hoped I could get to know him better.

That summer, as I walked through Dad's sweet corn fields picking corn for market, I thought a lot about Will.

A year or so later, I finally gave up the idea. I liked Will and the other fine young men I met at CBS, but my personal life was still so shattered from losses and difficult relationships, that I didn't have a strong sense of identity. I didn't think I had anything to offer a good man.

Over several years, I saw Will occasionally. He came to Pennsylvania for my sister's wedding (he actually came to see me, although I was still ignorant about this). I visited my sister in Kansas a few times, and usually saw him briefly then. One Sunday in Kansas, Will's sister invited me to hang out with a group of friends at her house. Sitting at the table with our popcorn, the banter turned into a jolly discussion about magazines. I sarcastically informed the group that I learned from Young Companions (an Amish magazine for youth) how to tell if a boy really likes you. Will's heart leaped to his throat as I glibly went on to say, “If you are at a singing and a boy looks up and smiles at you, you know he likes you.” You have to know the magazine to get the joke, but my friends all laughed, especially Will's sister who knew more than I did of the developments.

A few weeks after I got home from that trip, my dad cornered me in the living room. “I need to talk to you,” he said. Oh no, what did I do wrong?! I worried. I couldn't give it much thought because I had to dash off to Girl's Club to teach my class of teenagers. In fact, I didn't have time to talk to Dad until the next day.

The next morning I dropped onto the couch by Dad. “Someone wants to date you,” Dad said. I nearly had a heart attack! For a minute, I held my breath. A nice girl has to consider any reasonably nice boy who has prayed about a relationship, whether or not she really likes him. I always feared that in the unlikely circumstance that someone would waltz into my life, I wouldn't even like him.

“It's Will,” Dad said, and relief whooshed over me. I was totally surprised but utterly thankful that this was a man I found likeable. Over the next days, I escaped to the creek running through our woods, taking time to pray and think and journal.

When I prayed, I giggled. Was I praying for God's will, or His Will?

Because I still hadn't pulled myself together very well from my traumatic teenage years, and also because I was on the verge of beginning nursing school, it was very hard for me to make a big decision like this. I made the mistake of telling two of my best friends about Will's request, and they were horrified that I would consider getting married. I was just starting down the shining trail of becoming a missionary nurse, and no way should I ruin that by dating some boy!

“I guess I have to say no,” I thought sadly after talking with my friends. The next morning, I cried as I swept the kitchen floor. Mom saw my sadness and ferreted out the reason. She then gave me the most empowering advice I've ever received. “Maybe you do have something in your heart for him,” she said. “Do what your heart wants to do.”

To make a long story short, the next two years were spent building a relationship with Will. Later I asked him, “What attracted you to me?” He said, “Well obviously there was a spiritual connection. You were smart, sweet, and beautiful (blush!), but you were also needy. I didn't want a girl who never needed me.”

Will and I both loved the outdoors, so we spent hours hiking nature trails or rambling through graveyards in the snow. We rode horses through the fields of Kansas, waded in the river, and explored museums. We went to our friend's weddings and laughed ourselves silly. And always, we talked.

Will was someone who knew more about theology and the world in general than I did, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I couldn't help but remember sitting in Sunday School and hearing the teacher talk about women needing to be quiet in church. The teacher stressed the importance of women asking their husbands questions at home. “Well then,” I thought rather bitterly. “My husband better know something!” This man was perfectly capable of engaging in the discussions that I wanted to bring up!

We dated, and slowly my identity was pieced back together, both through God's healing and through Will's love.

And so it happened, that in a moonlit wood in Pennsylvania, Will asked me to marry him.

I said yes, and we were married on a beautiful day in October. My wedding day was one of the happiest days of my life.

Through my love story, I learned that my mom sometimes has better advice than my friends. I learned that following my heart is more important than doing what I think is socially acceptable. I learned that I don't need to be perfect to be loved—that need can be endearing instead of repulsive. And I learned that love is beautiful and healing.

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Thank you so much for sharing your story with me, Rosina! I have been so challenged by you and Will's heart for the people around you. May God bless you with many more years together!

Story #3: Introduction

It's early Sunday morning and the house is still, save for my potatoes boiling merrily on the stove. Making 10 pounds of mashed potatoes for the Father's Day lunch at church is one of those assignments that makes me breathe a little prayer; He can turn my cooking flops into edible things, you know. I'm also asking Him for inspiration while I carefully watch my kettles -- potatoes will boil over!

"I need an introduction post written for tomorrow, Lord, and I have no creative ideas for writing it. It's another one of those 'I've never met this lady/ I stumbled upon her blog by clicking a comment/ I recognized who's daughter she was' kind of connections and that sounds boring by now."

Quite simply, when I stumbled upon her blog, I recognized Rosina because I went to Calvary Bible School with her siblings and my parents knew hers. I actually have a faint recollection of visiting the Harold Dean Miller family when I was a very small child. The memory is made more clear because of an old photo I remember from the visit; Rosina was the baby I believe.

I have been following Rosina's blog Arabah Rejoice for several years now. Over the course of time we've learned to know each other a bit by sharing blog comments and several emails, as well as practicing our writing together in the little Five Minute Friday group. Anyone who can turn the writing prompt of "Cheese" into a lump-in-the-throat read definitely has a gift!

Rosina is passionate about Delivering Babies, Hearing God's Voice, and Reaching the World around her. I know no better way to describe her writing than to say she has a depth of soul that is rarely seen and it shines through in the words she shares. While pain is never the chosen way, it's presence can do beautiful things in a soft, broken heart. Rosina's story includes pain and her writing reflects the beautiful refining of her soul.

Rosina has been kind enough to share with me the story of how she met her husband, Will. It includes connections at Calvary Bible School, which makes me smile and think of my own story... which is very different from their's, of course, except for that one connection. And now I shall end this introduction, as the potatoes have been mashed and eaten long ago and that is all I have to say.

Story coming tomorrow...

        Bring your own tissues.....

Story #2

Ryan and Shari Zook and family

He was a strikingly intelligent and handsome nineteen-year-old with big glasses.

I was a sweet sixteen-year-old with big glasses.

Our match, as you might say, was made in China.

Actually, this story has nothing to do with glasses, except for the fact that the first time he noticed me (really noticed me) was when mine got knocked off my face by my brother’s spike in a volleyball game. I picked myself up off the gym floor and hid most of my embarrassment. The word “gracious” came into his mind, and lingered there.

Hm. That girl over there.

*

But I had noticed him a couple of weeks before that. He was singing in a choir program.

I was sitting there enjoying the music, when a male solo began. I looked for the singer, listening intently to that smooth and beautiful voice. I looked and looked, but the choral crowd was large and he was standing unobtrusively in the middle. When I couldn’t find him, an odd picture came into my mind of a glorious man singing in another room, joyous and solitary, his voice being piped into the auditorium.

But I was wrong, and suddenly at the end I found him after all. He had those big glasses.

*

When the next Bible school term started (I was arriving for it; he was staying) and we had a chance to meet properly, he was out of commission for a few days due to sickness, and he kept to his dorm. We prayed for “Ryan Zook” to recover, whoever that was.

When he finally came around, he was cuter than I’d thought. He was also crazy smart, and he read the best books, and asked the best questions. I’d never had so much fun talking with a boy – in a group with other students, of course – mostly. We talked about benign but strangely telling topics like class material, philosophical dilemmas, and The Chronicles of Narnia. I had just discovered the series and flown through it, head over heels in love with that other world, but uncertain about a few key ideas in the story. He was cooler, deep and insightful and unafraid.

We found many opportunities to talk.

I suppose it was a strange method of courting, but it worked for us. By the time the term ended I was secretly, madly in love with him – a crush that lasted for an entire year, almost without contact – a new record for this butterfly girl. He was everything I wanted. But I would never have hinted at that, and many times I despaired of him entirely. He was level-headed and enigmatic. Just when I thought I knew him, he’d surprise me and puzzle me and seem farther away than ever.

He knew better than to rob the cradle.

I didn’t know I was already inside his heart to stay.

*

We saw each other a weekend or two per year from that time on. Gradually I changed my word for him from “love” to “respect.” I finished high school, had other crushes, made silly mistakes, tended my baby brother, nurtured my passion for Jesus, worked at various day jobs, and grew up.

Three and a half years after our first meeting, Ryan was driving through my area and decided, on a whim, to stop by my house and say hello. I was nineteen now; he was twenty-two, and trying to figure out how to reintroduce himself into my world. My family knew him – I had an older brother his age and a little brother who’d loved him – it wouldn’t be that odd. Except that in a strange twist of fate, I was spending the weekend in Canada on a trip with my father. When Ryan knocked on the door at lunchtime, my somewhat flustered mother invited him in and offered food, which was already in the making and happened to be, of all things, cold milk soup with fruit – utterly delicious, but never in Coblentz history shared with a non-family guest. She is still apologizing. But he was not looking to find fault.

It is a little clumsy trying to stage a meeting with a girl whose paths don’t often cross with yours.

*

A month or so afterward, our paths did meet – at a summer reunion of Bible school alumni from all over the country. I arrived with my family. Ryan drove out with a friend or two. He ran into a boy from my church, and they fell to talking.

Hey, Joe! Good to see you!

Well Ryan Zook! How’s it going?

They chatted for a while.

Then Ryan asked if Joe had come down with a group (no ulterior motives or undue interest going on here, I’m sure), and Joe smiled and said no, he and Shari came down together. Ryan’s hopes began to crash and burn around him. Driving as a couple was just not done in those days, unless –

I haven’t heard the news, he said. Are you guys dating, or –

Yeah. Engaged, actually. Joe was proud and bashful.

Ryan swallowed hard and made himself smile. He thought to himself how long it had been since he’d seen this girl, how little he knew of her. Is that right? he said. Well, congratulations to you. He’s been proud ever since that he offered his congratulations before asking his last question calmly, tossing it off as a matter of course.

You mean Shari Coblentz?

Joe looked startled, and then laughed.

No, no! Sherri MILLER!

*

I confess it: I’ve always been grateful to Joe for his naiveté. I’m privately certain that this fear-of-God moment is what tipped the scale. The next day Ryan asked my father for permission to date me, and he’s been taking me out ever since.

He still asks the best questions, and he is a glorious man.

    -----------------------------------------------

Loved the story and the love that shines through their relationship, even when you only know them through blogging. I wonder who's The Boss this month? 😉Thanks so much, Shari, for sharing your story with me!

Story #2: Introduction

Once upon a time -- three years ago maybe, three and a half? -- I stumbled upon a blog. I have tried my best to remember how I found it. Did somebody share a link somewhere? Did I click on the author's name in the comments on someone else's blog? I believe it was the former but I am not certain. All I do know, is that when I discovered the goldmine, I stayed.

I spent ...well... way too much time going back through the archives the other day, trying to remember when I first started reading. I found my first comment in May of 2014 and that's about as close as I'll get, I suppose. Not that it matters, really. It just would have helped to make this little intro post more interesting and complete, which would satisfy a particular something in my writer heart.

Nevertheless, once upon a time I stumbled upon a blog. The author was a certain Shari Zook who, I eventually put together, was the daughter of the famous John Coblentz. My parents knew John Coblentz, see; these kinds of connections are important, you know.

Shari immediately swept me in with her Confessions of a Woman Learning to Live. I dug back through the archives and played catch up and then eagerly received each new post. I alternately laughed and cried. I applauded her authenticity and stood in awe of her deep thoughts, around which I often struggled to wrap my small brain. I stole her birthday ideas and heatedly hashed her singlehood and marriage ideals with the man at my house. I ached at her losses and rejoiced with her gain.

I've never met Shari in person; she probably has no idea I've felt all these things about her writing. Blogs are an illusory way to form "friendships"; if the bond formed through words can even be given that title. I've always imagined Shari as older and wiser and just a bit above attainable to a shy, backwoods girl from Arkansas. In my searching back through the archives the other day, it dawned on me suddenly that I am, in fact, older than she. That doesn't prove the other sentiments false but it does show how imaginations can go wrong.

Shari very graciously agreed to share with me the story of how she met her husband, Ryan. I am honored to have her here and I hope you will hop over to her blog and enjoy her refreshing honesty and candid take on life. Story coming tomorrow......

Story #1

Ken and Danette Martin

How does a shy girl from the backwoods of Wisconsin end up marrying a witty fellow from a well-populated region of Southern Ontario, Canada? We say it’s a mystery, agreeing with Solomon in his description of “the way of a man with a maid”, and that it is “a thing too wonderful” for us – it had to be God-orchestrated!

Even before the two of us met, I had heard a little about Ken’s family from my dad since both he and Ken’s dad were ministers and their paths had crossed on numerous church-related occasions. The summer I was 17, I went with my family to weekend meetings held at Ken’s home church area near Waterloo, Ontario. Evidently Ken and I met there for the first time at a get-acquainted social for the youth one evening after the church service (likely on his 17th birthday). We don’t clearly remember it, but we signed each other’s papers during a Name Bingo game. Since that was back in the era I saved everything, I was able to come across my paper with Ken’s signature some years later.

The winter before those summer meetings in Ontario, both Ken and I had been to Maranatha Bible School (Lansing, Minnesota) as students, albeit different terms. The winter following, we both attended MBS but managed to miss each other again; Ken went the first six weeks and I went the last six. We now joke about the way it seems that the next winter I decided “enough of this avoiding each other” and I signed up for all 12 weeks of MBS 1984. Ken was there for the last six weeks that year. During the first three weeks that we were actually at Bible School at the same time, we weren’t together a whole lot. I thought Ken was just one of the many in a passel of Canadians that attended MBS that term, and he thought of me as just one of the Schrock twins, either Danette or Annette.

The final 3-week term that year, though, was when we began to take note of each other. We ended up taking the same three classes, so we experienced the same teachers and study material. Sometimes in the smaller classes, we’d sit in desks near each other and chat a bit. It dawned on me one day that Ken knew which one of the Schrock twins was Danette, and that fact was significant to me. He cared enough to learn to tell us apart! Did it mean anything?

When the students began the end-of-term ritual of exchanging photos of themselves, Ken requested one of me, as well as one of Annette. Since my twin and I had depleted our stacks of photos in a prior term, I had nothing to give Ken but a promise to mail him a picture of me after I got home. At home after Bible School, Annette and I got more photo reprints and sent them to our friends. In most cases, we’d both send a photo and one of us would write a friendly little note. I specified that I wanted to address the envelope and write the note when we sent pics to Ken. And, I included in the customary “Keep Christ #1”-type blurb written on the back of my photo for Ken: “May God bless your future.” These were little details that were significant to Ken much the same as I had taken notice of Ken’s ability to tell us twins apart.

That summer, we saw each other again at a mutual friend’s wedding in Missouri. Annette and I were waitresses at the wedding reception and we talked with Ken and his brother Steve very briefly when we served their table. Ken’s carload had been planning to leave the area right after the reception and travel to Indiana to take in the last services of the Midwest Fellowship Meetings in session there that weekend, but car trouble changed those plans. Ken couldn’t get the replacement part for his car until Monday so he and his passengers were at the same church as I was on Sunday morning. That gave the two of us more chance to visit. During the after-church fellowship meal, we talked together long enough to tell each other our Bible School plans for the next winter.

Every summer at some point Ken needed to discuss with his dad and brothers the question of who should go to Bible School for which terms. It always took some juggling of schedule to accommodate his dad’s teaching, the boys’ preferences as students and the farm/orchard responsibilities at home. Ken wanted to go for a term that included a choir program, but he didn’t know if he could convince his brothers to allow for that when they had similar wishes.

I told Ken that I would be going to Mountain View, Arkansas to teach school that fall, coming home to Hayward, Wisconsin to be with my family for Christmas vacation, and then going from there to attend Maranatha for the first three weeks. Inwardly, Ken perked up at this news. Earlier, when he had somehow gotten word of my upcoming teaching position, he’d just assumed that I wouldn’t be able to take time off for being a student myself.

After the fellowship meal that Sunday on the Missouri wedding weekend, the youth played volleyball, but I didn’t join in because I had a very sore toe. The inexplicable pain had increased with the walking I had done while serving at the reception the day before. When I got back home and was limping around, one of my aunts teased me by saying that it all came of chasing out-of-state fellows. My twin nudged me later and said, “Hmph, it’s more like an out-of-country fellow!”

The morning after Ken got home from the Missouri trip, his dad told him at the breakfast table that they really needed to decide who is going to MBS for which term. “I’m going to teach second term, and Steve is going to graduate fourth term…I’m sorry, but I think I can let you off work for only one term, and it will have to be the first term…” Normally, Ken would’ve balked at readily agreeing to this plan, at least without due debate, but since he had just learned that his favorite Schrock twin would be going first term, he quickly consented with an “okay, Dad – no problem” attitude.

We hadn’t gotten very far into that first term at MBS 1985 together until Ken knew for sure that he wanted to start a dating relationship with me and I was quite certain that he had a special interest in me. So when he came over to me in the library corner early one morning, I was pretty sure what he was after before he started speaking.

Back in those years at Maranatha, there were 10-minute outdoor walks and 20-minute chapel talks allowed as opportunities for guys and girls to get to know each other a little better apart from all the group activities and goings-on at Bible School. Ken wanted to ask me to go on a walk with him, but how could he find a time and place to ask me privately, when they were always people around every minute of the day? One morning he got ready for breakfast earlier than usual so he went into the library to do some homework before the breakfast bell. As he entered the library he noticed I was sitting in the area of the room that had been sectioned off as work space for yearbook staffers. He went to a table in the main part of the library and sat down with his books, to study. He couldn’t focus on his studies, though. He thought, “Here’s my perfect chance to ask Danette alone. Likely it’s now or never.”

He got up and walked over to me in my corner and asked me if I’d consider going on a walk with him that afternoon. For me, it hadn’t been a falling in love at first sight kind of feeling with Ken, but I thought that maybe I was headed toward a growing in love kind of feeling for him. I knew by this time that he was a steady, solid-character sort of person who valued many of the same things I did, and I knew that I wanted to get to know him better, so I said yes. Our first walk together was kind of awkward and scary, but exciting at the same time.

When Ken asked me to go on another walk with him soon after that, I said I’d rather not, without really explaining my reason: I felt swamped with homework assignments. Ken was afraid that my apparent disinterest meant I didn’t really like him after all. He felt so relieved and happy when later he asked me to sit with him at the farewell banquet of that term, and I consented with no hesitation.

Before we parted ways that final weekend of first term, we decided we’d continue to communicate via letters and phone calls. Since the mail service between Arkansas and Ontario wasn’t exactly speedy, and because we waited to write until it was in answer to a letter we’d received from the other, the space between those first letters was very long – several weeks, for sure. The phone calls between the US and Canada weren’t exactly cheap, either. Ken called me about once a month for the first while.

We saw each other next at the summer Midwest Meetings in Indiana that July. To this day we don’t exactly know what to say was our first date. Was it that first walk together on the village streets of Lansing, Minnesota during Maranatha Bible School 1985, was it when we attended the first term banquet as a couple that year or was it when we visited my uncle and aunt one evening after the aforementioned meetings (the first time we drove together somewhere in Ken’s car)?

Our relationship continued to develop steadily over the next few years. We got engaged in March of 1988 and were married on October 22 of that year. From the time we went on that first walk at MBS to the time we walked down the wedding aisle as Mr. & Mrs. Ken Martin, 3 years and 9 months had elapsed. So ours was a lengthy courtship while maneuvering the bumps and hazards of a long-distance relationship. It’s been worth every effort and we have many pleasant memories of that time in our lives. As my mom used to say, “All good things take time.” It did take time, and it’s been very good.

Ken and Danette with their family

                    ********************

Thank you so much, Danette, for sharing your story with us. Wishing you many more years of good things!

Story #1: Introduction

Years and years ago - 32 years in August, to be exact - a shy little six year old girl went off to enter the big, wide world of first grade. Along with her two brothers, she attended a small, church school about twenty-five minutes from her home. Her teacher's name was Sister Marcile and her brother's teacher - the one with the puffs of hair over her ears and the cool glasses, which she pretended to imitate in her play by turning her sunglasses upside down - was Sister Schrock.

It's funny, the little things that stick in your mind from when you were six. I was the first grader back then and my first story for this June of story time is Sister Schrock's.

Danette was one of those special teachers who not only left an impression on her students but also formed friendships with parents. For years, she and my mom exchanged Christmas mail, bringing each other up to date year after year with the news of their families. I remember the year my parents stayed with Ken and Danette while attending the annual minister's meetings and the stories they brought home about all the apples on Martin's Family Fruit Farm.

About a year and a half ago, when I was doing my second birthday giveaway in honor of my mom, who should I discover in my comment section but Danette Schrock Martin?! That comment was the beginning of a re-connection between the shy little first grader and her brother's teacher. Since then, Danette has continued to bless me with her comments on my blog and I have enjoyed following her "attempt to write a thousand words a day by posting a photo daily" at Dani's Daily Thousand.

I will be back tomorrow with the story of how Danette met her husband, Ken.

Story #3: How A Schoolteacher Met Her End

My third, and final, story for this month of story time is from a friend I have yet to meet. I enjoy Stephanie's writing and I wrote a bit about her and her family's journey with epilepsy here. It was fun to read the story of how she met her husband......

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The van’s headlights pierced the night, opening a door in the blackness for us to drive through. Behind me, the children chattered and argued, perhaps trying to keep themselves awake in the last miles before home.

“Tell us a story, Mom,” Jenica said from the back seat.

I rubbed my tired eyes. “I don’t know if I can think of one to tell.”

“Tell about the time you fell off the dump truck.”

Tarica’s feet pushed against my seat as she shifted. “What dump truck? I don’t remember that one.”

So I told the dump truck story. And the second-story-door story, a new one for them.

When I had finished, Jenica said, “Tell us another one. Tell us about how you met Dad.”

“You know that story already.”

“But tell it again.”

This story I could tell again without complaint. It was one of my favorites. I took a deep breath and began at a point in my life that I didn’t know—at the time—was the beginning of a love story.

Once upon a time, there was a fifth-grade schoolteacher who loved teaching school. She liked to play with her children at recess. But one day, she stepped into a hole on the playground while she was running, and something in her foot tore. The doctor made her wear a funny boot on her foot for several weeks while her foot healed.

Over this time, the schoolteacher met with a large group of young people every Tuesday night for chorus practice. Usually, the schoolteacher stood with the chorus during practice, but while her foot was in the boot, she had to sit on a bench nearby, right in front of the tenor section.

While she was sitting there, she noticed a young man in the tenor section that she didn’t recognize. That night, she asked her brother about that young man. Who was he?

“That’s Linford Leinbach,” her brother said.

“That’s not possible,” the teacher said. “I went to school with Linford Leinbach up to fourth grade, and he was the tallest boy in the room. That guy is short. Are you sure it isn’t one of his brothers?”

Her brother shrugged. “Well, I asked him his name, and he said, ‘Linford Leinbach,’ so it’s got to be him.”

Well then, it was Linford Leinbach after all. Now that the question was settled, the teacher didn’t think much more of him. Except . . . he did have a nice smile. But she was a schoolteacher, and she loved teaching school, even with a boot on her foot.

The chorus started giving programs. They took a bus to NYC for a day. By this time, the teacher’s foot had healed enough to take the boot off. That evening, on the way home, the young man named Linford Leinbach sat down in a seat across the aisle from the teacher. It was a long drive, so eventually he turned to the teacher and asked her what had happened to her foot.

So they talked for a while, about chorus and about those long-ago school days when they were classmates. They recalled trying to get the best grade in math. They figured out that they had seen each other once in the twelve years between fourth grade and now. The teacher found she liked talking to him. She remembered that she had thought him cute back in fourth grade. But she was a schoolteacher, and she loved teaching school, especially now that her foot was getting better. In fact, she loved teaching so much that she had said yes to another year of school.

The next Tuesday night, the chorus gave another program at a local retirement home. The teacher and Linford Leinbach talked again when they happened to meet outside. This happened several times at the next few programs. And once when the teacher went out to eat with her brother after a program, Linford was at the same restaurant. They talked a little there, too.

The teacher didn’t know it, but Linford was praying about her. He really liked her and wanted to spend more time with her, but he didn’t know if he should ask her to be his girlfriend. (The teacher was praying about him, too, but she was asking God to help her forget about Linford Leinbach because she was a schoolteacher and loved teaching.)

One Tuesday morning, Linford asked God to make it clear if he should ask the teacher or not. That evening at chorus, one of the other chorus members pulled Linford off by himself and said, “I think you and the schoolteacher would make a really good couple. I’m not pressuring you, but at least think about it.”

Linford felt that God had answered his prayer. So that night after he got home, he called the teacher before he lost his nerve and asked her if he could take her out and talk about maybe being more than just friends who talked after a chorus program.

The teacher was so surprised she didn’t know what to say, so she said she would think and pray about it before giving an answer. After she got off the phone, she went downstairs and told her mom what had just happened. And then she went upstairs to the bathroom and threw up.

This sounds like a bad thing, but the teacher did this when she got really nervous. During her first week of teaching, she threw up nearly every morning, even though she was excited about school. So maybe she was a little excited about this phone call.

The teacher did think and pray about it, and she realized that even though she loved teaching, God had other plans for her, and they were good plans. So she said yes, and he took her out for dinner. They talked and talked and talked and had so much fun they decided to keep doing it. So the teacher became a girlfriend, even though she had said she’d never date and teach at the same time.

Seven months later, Linford Leinbach asked the teacher to be his wife, and she said yes again. Three weeks after the school term ended, the teacher married Linford. Although she threw up that morning, she knew it was only because she was nervous about walking down the aisle, no longer a schoolteacher but a bride.

And all of a sudden, she is driving down a dark road with three precious children behind her who belong to her and Linford Leinbach. She isn’t sure how it happened, but she is glad it did.

As I stopped talking, silence filled the van. Then the girl behind me asked, “What are the children’s names?”

“Jenica and Tarica and Micah, and their mommy and daddy love them very much.”

They giggled—or rather, the girls did. Micah looked too sleepy to care.

“You didn’t know you would have a Tarica, did you?” Tarica asked. “Back when you were a teacher?”

“I had no clue about Tarica,” I said.

“Or about Jenica,” Jenica said. “Tell us another one.”

“We’re almost home.” I swallowed a yawn. “Ask me for a story another time.”

And if they ask for this story again, I’ll gladly tell them, because this story has the best possible ending: a happy one.

  -----------------------------

Thank you so much, Stephanie, for sharing your story with us! If you enjoyed her writing, like I do, you might enjoy receiving her emails. To subscribe go to stephaniejleinbach.com and sign up or contact Stephanie at stephanie@stephaniejleinbach.com and ask to be added to the list.

This ends our "How We Met" stories for this year. I believe the stories God is writing with our lives are important. Those stories can disappear quickly. Since my mom's sudden passing two years ago, I am thankful for every bit of history that's written down but there are many stories I wish I could ask her to tell again. If you've never written down your own "How We Met" story, I encourage you to do it. Your children and grandchildren will thank you!

Story #2 (part three)

We're ready for the third and final part of our second How We Met story. If you missed the other parts, start reading here.

                   --------------------------------

Ernie:
After praying about this for several more months I finally concluded that God was letting it up to me to decide whether I wanted to pursue this relationship again or not.   I couldn't forget about her… and she wasn't getting married to anyone else.  It was now nine years since we had dated.

So, “God… what next?”  I called Cathy's dad and he was favorable toward the idea of me asking Cathy about dating again but warned me that she may not be ready for a relationship in light of what happened to her friend.

I decided to go ahead and ask Cathy for her friendship and see what would happen. But I had a problem. I had no suitable stationary and Walmart was 14 miles away! I would need to drive to town to get some. However, before I had a chance to make that trip, the church youth met for supper at an elderly couple's house. I won a door prize (the first in my life) and it turned out to be a box of Thomas Kincaid notecards. I was in a whirl the rest of the evening. Later I realized, these were not just ordinary Kincaid cards…they were lighthouse cards. And from the dim recesses of my mind I remembered that lighthouses were Cathy's thing! When God does something, He makes sure it is done right! So, I wrote Cathy a letter using my new “God-given stationary”.

Five long weeks later, after I had moved to CBS for the winter, my letter/card came back marked, “No such address”. I “clocked out” for a couple hours and went to Bethel Springs Church across the creek from CBS to talk to God about this for awhile. Then I called Cathy's Dad to explain what happened and inform him that I would need some time to discern what God was trying to say through all of this.

Cathy:
Dad dropped the bombshell of telling me about Ernie's phone call.  “What about what happened to my friend!"…..I hardly knew how to handle this possibility. I/we didn't know if Ernie would make contact again or not. I wished Dad hadn't even told me. However, I knew that if Ernie would make contact again, I could use some preparation and healing time. For a month, I didn't discuss this with anyone except the Lord. Not even my parents. After the month was up, I talked with them briefly, but basically asked that they pray. After all, we still didn't know if he would try again or not.

Ernie
I didn't have time to pursue the relationship further until after CBS, so had a few months more of waiting that winter. During that time I wondered whether God was telling me just to drop it… but then I remembered those lighthouse cards…He had given me 12 of them. : )

Cathy:
After a wonderful, enriching trip to KS in March, reconnecting with some single girlfriends of mine, I arrived home to mom telling me to check my mail. I knew right away…….

Battles, questions, trust, …It didn't work 10 years ago, why did I even think it might work now? I wasn't sure it was even worth the effort to find out……………especially after such a satisfying time with my single friends.

For about 2 weeks, I wavered between “yes” and “no”. I struggled with many fears. Finally one evening, I was ready to get to the bottom of it. Was I struggling because God was trying to tell me “No, Cathy, this is not for you," or was I struggling because of my natural fears & apprehensions. God reminded me of this verse: “For God, has not given us the spirit of fear, but of power, of love, and of a sound mind”. Finally, I had peace about considering the possibility of dating again. My heart was quiet & ready for whatever God showed me to do next.

I emailed Ernie some questions. His answers were much more detailed than I expected, and went a long way in setting some of my fears at rest.

Together:
In our new relationship, it felt like we got further in the first 2 weeks than we did in the 8 months previously. Lots of things had been learned and it was now the better time. We still had lots of opportunities to trust and wait on each other, but God cleared our path beautifully.

Today, we are sometimes asked if those 10 in-between years feel like a waste. It's easy to answer with a “no”. We could have gotten married back then, but we shudder to think of the big bumps & hurdles we would have needed to face trying to learn communication and relating skills while raising a family. Waiting on God's timing prepared us for a satisfying life together!

                 ---------------------------------

Thank you so much, Ernie and Cathy, for being willing to share your story! I love hearing the many creative and unusual ways God writes our stories. He is certainly not limited to our neat little formulas for a happy life. Wishing you a happy 10th anniversary this year and many, many more to come!

Story #2 (part two)

We're ready for How We Met story #2 part 2. You can go here to read part 1.

                 ---------------------------------

Cathy:
It was about 7 years later, and I had heard very little about Ernie…I still remember the amazement & shock I felt when my brother discovered in the Calvary Bible School (CBS) handbook that Ernest Eby would be dean at CBS. This position just didn't fit the Ernie I had known, so I was tuned in for anything I might learn about this.

Ernie:
During those seven years, I would sometimes think about Cathy but figured that she would probably never be interested in dating again.  While at Calvary Bible School, my interest in starting a relationship again started to revive. I met people who knew her, and met people we had related with together while we were dating.  I began wondering whether God would open doors again or whether he wanted me to stay single for life.  I hardly trusted myself or Him anymore… what if dating again would end in another disaster.  I would not be able to forgive myself…

Cathy:
Soon after hearing Ernie would be serving at CBS, 3 people “hinted” about Ernie to me. One lady that I really respected out of the blue told me, “if Ernie would ever come knocking on your door again, you should seriously consider.” I kept answering by saying: “I'll cross that bridge if it comes”. I honestly had no clue if I was interested, besides, I had no reason to think he even remembered me. I had no idea what to think.  I remember praying “God, if you're preparing me for something, guide me.” Nothing happened. I took it as another test to see if I would truly be happy as a single.

Ernie:
In 2003 I moved to Arkansas. Church wise this opened the door for me to date Cathy again if I wanted to.  I was living alone in a cabin and was more aware of how nice it would be to have a life companion.  Is  Cathy the one???

Cathy:
August of 2004, I heard in a round-about way that Ernie would be in my area for a wedding. Then I discovered he could be at a youth activity….I was so tempted not to go that evening, I just didn't want to face dealing with thoughts, feelings, questions,  etc that could come up. And the last thing I wanted to do, was give him any idea that I could be interested in him…I was feeling foolish that I was even thinking along those lines, and yet, the idea was there and needed to be faced. I realized that to stay away that evening, just because I MIGHT meet him, was foolish. I told God I would go, I would be friendly (I really didn't do so well with that one…) and the situation would be left in His hands.

Well, Ernie WAS there. At one point we did end up on the same volleyball team, playing beside each other. Even though I had ignored him earlier in the evening, I knew I had to be friendly at that point. We chatted some, and that was the extent of it. I really was able to lay aside all the questions & “what-ifs” I had faced earlier.

Ernie:
God arranged the meeting… and I was glad to see that Cathy had also grown and matured and that she had not drawn into a shell because of our first relationship. I went home and continued praying about this.

Cathy:
About a month later, my best friend's engagement was broken, just weeks before her wedding.  That was really hard on me. My first comments to my parents were: “I'm so thankful that I'm not dating now. I don't know if it would last through this.” I closed up my heart against ever getting hurt like that.

                     ---------------------------

Part three coming Friday......

Story #2 (part one)

My second "How We Met" story is a unique one shared by friends from our Arkansas years. Chris' shop in AR was located on Ernie's property, so we have lots of good memories of time spent with Ernie and Cathy Eby and their girls. They now live in PA and us in OH but we still count each other as friends, in fact, we just had the privilege of hosting them for supper last week! 

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Ernie:
Waiting has been a challenge for me all my life. All my growing up years, I could hardly wait to… go to school, go to high school, get my driver's license, leave father and mother, start a business, move to a wilderness frontier, be a missionary somewhere, and get married.

God has had lots of work to do on me.  Through a long process, God brought me to the place where I was willing to be content as long as I knew Him.

When I was 22 and Cathy was 25, we met for the first time.  I don't know to this day what it was that attracted me to her.  Our introduction to each other had no impact on her whatsoever, but I couldn't forget her.

Cathy:
There's a sense in which we hesitate to share our story. We do not by any means want to leave the idea that if you wait long enough, God will bring that right someone to you to marry. Maybe God wants you to pursue a beautiful love relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ, just like you would build a dating relationship! This is a challenge that has struck home to both of us since we've been married. So we share our story as a situation in our lives where we can clearly see God's Hand at work through circumstances and according to His timing.

Ernie:
After about six months of thinking, praying, visiting her home community, visiting her classroom, and counseling with others, I decided to so something that I would not necessarily recommend anyone doing… I decided to ask a complete stranger for her friendship. I needed to send a picture along of myself just in case she had a face for me.

Cathy:
One day I got this letter…from a complete stranger. I called my parents and then began to realize some of the “research” Ernie had already put into this! We dated for 8 months. I can remember some good times, but confusion/turmoil colored most of those months. We came to an agreement to part ways, and our paths rarely crossed in those next years.

Ernie:
I was also confused.  Looking back, I wasn't fit to be a husband or a father at all, but when we are young, we don't know such things.  We think we are all competent and mature enough to do anything. If someone of my maturity would come to me now about whether they should pursue a lady they are attracted to, I would probably advise them to grow up a bit first. After we parted ways, I spent the next several years trying to figure out what God had said and was trying to say. I began to deal with a lot of issues in my life that would have kept me from being a good husband and father.  Bitterness, pride, greed, selfishness…

There came a time when I realized I needed to release the relationship to God and be ok with trusting him even though He didn't explain to me why our dating relationship ended so confusingly.  At the same time I began building strong, close relationships with some other godly men.  (Up until that time, I did not have really close relationships with people of my own gender.)

                ------------------------------------

       Stay tuned for part two on Wednesday........

Story #1: Finding Love At Unexpected Times And Places (Part 2)

* It's story time, and we are in the middle of our first "How We Met" story. Go here to read part 1. Miss Mennonite was determined that no bachelor would derail her goal of a bachelor degree in nursing...

                     --------------------------------

But Mr. Beachy was reconsidering his noble intentions of avoiding a relationship. He had tried dating before with less than stellar results. But there was just something about Miss Mennonite- he couldn’t get her out of his mind. So he did what all the young men at that VS unit did- he confided in an older & wiser mentor. Mr. Mentor said ‘let her go home, put some distance between you and see if your feelings remain the same’. Now this was good advice, but Mr. Beachy knew that Miss Mennonite was not supposed to go to college if she was dating so he wrestled with his duty to inform her of his changing intentions before any money was invested.

Then came the first speed bump. Miss Mennonite was about to be scheduled for her last rotation on night duty shift. Rumor was floating through the halls that the staff could now request their co-workers for their last night duty. Miss Mennonite excitedly mused to her girlfriends that she would request her BFF and Mr. Beachy because they had so much fun together on the previous rotation. Off she went to the Unit Leader’s office to make her request. But a last minute case of nerves [or divine providence] caused her to first inquire if the rumor was true. Being told she could request, but it may or may not be granted, she scaled back her request to her BFF only. Miss Mennonite went back to work and never mentioned the change to her girlfriends. When the schedule was posted on the bulletin board, not only was the BFF on night duty… so was Mr. Beachy! It didn’t take long for word to circulate that Miss Mennonite had requested them both. Mr. Beachy had some definite ideas about who should do the pursuing in a relationship and thought to himself “I will not be chased!” He marched off to the office to inquire if Miss Mennonite had indeed requested to work with him. To his relief, she had not. But for the grace of God, their love story very nearly ended before it began.

Miss Mennonite was aware of none of this until later. (Thank God she grew up in a family of boys and was intimately aware of the foolishness of girls who flirt. Tales of such girls’ exploits & laughter around the supper table will cure one of that fate.) She was also blissfully unaware that Mr. Beachy was privately interviewing all her girlfriends to see if they thought he stood a chance. He was very aware of her tenacity to finish what she set her mind to and doubted his ability to derail her single vision.

Thus it was that in the wee hours of the morning, in between rounds on the night duty shift, that Mr. Beachy screwed up his courage and confessed to Miss Mennonite that he could no longer abide by their ‘just friends’ status. The BFF knew the deed had been done when a very rattled Miss Mennonite avoided Mr. Beachy like the plague for the rest of their shift. She was angry & confused. She was so sure God had been leading her to a medical career. What was up with this? To turn him down and stick with her Plan A would mean the death of a good friendship; to accept would mean kissing her lifelong dream good-bye. She wanted both. Why did he have to mess up everything?!! Put your life on hold and call me in 4 years she wanted to say.Oh, the tears & prayers!

In agony, she did what any self-respecting girl would do- she called her mother. Now Miss Mennonite’s parents had seen the budding relationship and were not surprised by the phone call. With great calmness, the mother advised her daughter to go on one date and see what happens. One date is not a lifetime commitment, she said. In theory this is true, but Miss Mennonite knew in her heart that she was at a crossroad- making a major decision whether she would stick with her own Plan A or accept God’s Plan B. A decision that would alter history. Yet the calm reaction went a long way in taming the turmoil. Meanwhile Mr. Beachy was praying fervently that she would make the right choice.

Miss Mennonite took the advice of accepting one date. And Mr. Beachy ‘pulled out all the stops’ to plan an unforgettable evening. As fate would have it, Miss Mennonite had some visitors arrive minutes before the appointed hour. Speed Bump #2. Her guests didn’t know a single other soul on campus –nor their disastrous timing- so she had no choice but to extend good southern hospitality and leave Mr. Beachy awkwardly sitting in front of the girls dorm, fearing she had changed her mind and was standing him up. After that terrible beginning, the rest of the evening was magical.  Miss Mennonite didn’t even know there were such lovely places in the hillbilly Ozarks. And she nearly swooned when he ordered spaghetti!Who does this? Who orders something so difficult to eat with poise on a first date?!  Certainly not the jittery Miss Mennonite. Everything had changed- the man she used to be able to talk with for hours now made her nervous. Yet somehow by evening’s end she knew it would be okay to go with Plan B.

That was 1990. We got married in Nov. 1991. It hasn’t been all roses, moonlight walks and happily ever after. Yes, there has been some of that, but there has been plenty of drama & huge adjustments too –not to each other, but for Miss Mennonite to become Mrs. Beachy. For his people to become her people (Ruth 2), with their odd customs and rules. But 25 years, 3 children and many, many miles later, the ride has been worthwhile.

All because two people fell in love...

-----------------------------

Thank you so much, Cheryl, for sharing your story with us. Congratulations on 25 years of marriage! May you be blessed with many, many more.

Story #1: Finding Love At Unexpected Times And Places (Part 1)

My first storyteller is from close to home. Richard and Cheryl Miller and their family attend the same church we do. Cheryl and I share an enjoyment for writing and (a discovery made while working together on the food committee) a mutual dislike for making phone calls! This year marks 25 years of marriage for them, so it seemed like a good time to do some reminiscing. 

You can enjoy more of Cheryl's writing by visiting her blog The Latest Scoop. And now for part 1 of their story.....

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Once upon a time there was a Mennonite girl who grew up on the east coast relatively happy & secure, in the middle of a family of boys. She dreamed of being a nurse from the time she was a little girl. She was ambitious, disciplined and tenacious about finishing what she started. Life was good.

In the Mennonite culture, most young ladies grow up to be wives & mothers. Not career women. “A woman’s place is in the home” is part of the Mennonite holy grail, and many a young lady dreams of nothing else than being a mommy from the time she is old enough to hold a doll. But not this young lady –she never fit that mold. In a school report about her goals in life, the husband was halfway down the page and children were at the end. Unlike secular society, Mennonite teens don’t automatically expect to go to college when they finish high school. Higher education was not the norm, especially back in the 90s. College degrees were expensive and not to be entered into lightly, then thrown away when Mr. Right came along. Thus this girl’s parents placed a condition on her quest for an RN degree – she was allowed to go to college as long as she was not dating.

Various persons who had an inside scoop on the medical field advised her to get a job as a CNA first- start at the bottom of the totem pole. They nodded their heads sagely and agreed “The best nurses are the ones who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty, ones that do more than hand out pills, the ones that know how to do the grunt work.”

Now this young lady was also interested in doing some voluntary service work. She was introduced by a co-worker to Hillcrest, a nursing home in far off Arkansas that used VS staff. Two birds with one stone! She applied and was accepted; she acquired a whole new wardrobe and merrily moved halfway across the country at the ripe old age of 17 (almost 18). 

You have to understand that in the culture she came from, young people went into VS when they were 17 or 18 because typically they got married when they were 18 or 19. To reach the age of 20 and still be unattached was to begin withdrawing from the youth group as an old maid. She did not believe she was doing anything unusual by waltzing off to Hillcrest as a teenager  –she was simply on a quest. Despite some bumpy adjustments to the Beachy culture, she loved her job. Taking care of the elderly was interesting, though not her intended future specialty. And she was delighted to discover the whole world does not operate on a schedule that deems one an ‘old maid’ by age 21. There was plenty of time to pursue a 4 year degree and only then start thinking about marriage. Plan A was falling into place perfectly. True, it meant hanging out with folks that believe growing out male facial hair is holy & sanctioned by God and –horror of horrors- believed in the cute but sacrilegious practice of putting a headship covering –with strings!- on little girls who had not yet submitted their life to Christ. But there was time to worry about that later. 
    

About 6 months into this VS stint, a certain young Beachy man from the Midwest received a plea to fill a VS position at the same nursing home. The medical field was no interest of his, but he was willing to forsake the family business and invest a year of service, so he agreed to give it a whirl. He traded in truck keys and mechanic tools for white uniforms, wheelchairs and bedpans.  

Given some time –and possibly a little covert help from the Unit Leader who handled the scheduling- Miss Mennonite & Mr. Beachy found their paths crossing with great regularity. There were no fireworks, no love at first sight. But they worked together, played together, worshiped together. They simply got along exceptionally well. They mutually agreed they were just friends, nothing more. This gave them the delicious freedom to be themselves, no expectations. By this time Miss Mennonite had applied to the college of her choice back home and was accepted into the program. She had her eye on the goal –a bachelor degree in nursing, and no bachelor was going to derail her!

                      ---------------------------------
      Stay tuned for Part 2 on Thursday....

Story Time Coming Up

Happy 15th Anniversary to us!

If you've been reading here very long, you know that June is story time ... or it has been for the past couple of years. This year, I'm planning to spend the month of June sharing some "How We Met" stories with you again!

I think love stories are a vivid example of God's creativity, not to mention His amazing ability to take a wide variety of circumstances and people and bring them together to make something beautiful.

I also think looking back at the story of how we met our own spouse is a good way to rekindle the memory of just what it was that drew us to that person in the first place. It can be quite interesting to go down memory lane together - you might even discover some tidbit you never knew before!

A number of years ago Chris and I wrote our story for a friend we had only 'met' via email. We had so much fun traveling down memory lane and putting our story together for her in a series of short emails. I later shared a version of it on my blog.

So, ready for story time? I have several friends who have agreed to share their stories with us this month and I'm excited about sharing them with you. I will be starting with the first one on Monday. In the mean time, you can read our story here. If you like "How We Met" stories as much as I do, you can also read the ones I shared in 2014, and 2015. I'll be back Monday with the first story in this year's story time!

Story # 5 Part Two

We're in the middle of our 5th "How we met" story. Read on to find out the rest of the story of how my Mom and Dad met........

* * * * * * * * * *

When I was 19, I was in my senior year in high school. We did a senior play, and I was assigned one of the main parts. In the play I had a wife and we were an older couple. In one scene, when the curtains opened, we were sitting on a bench and my wife was praying a long prayer while we had our heads bowed. After awhile, during her prayer, I started peeking around and she kept praying. Finally, I was obviously looking around and absorbed in what I was seeing and stretching my neck to see more things. In the mean time she finished praying without me noticing. She asked me a question and had to repeat it twice before I noticed she was now talking to me. I remember I said, "Oh I didn't know whether you were talking to me or to the Lord"! That night Lavina was in the audience. I noticed it and it didn't seem like it would have been normal for her to be there. Shipshewana High School was out of the way for Woodlawn people. As I thought about it, I remembered at our youth hymn sings when my eyes traveled around looking for her face, sometimes her eyes met mine. Was there something different in those dark brown eyes? How could I know? I could hardly dare imagine such a thing.

It turned out that Mel Shetler, the one who knew everything about girls because he was the kind of guy who could talk to any of them, was the key to the turn-around. I don't remember why we talked about it, but it was he who suggested that Lavina would probably not say no if I would ask her for a date again. Do you know how it is to be half way to heaven, but still be afraid to go there because you're not quite sure the road will actually end there? But there seemed to be some affirmation in those eyes. When I finally got the nerve to ask, she said yes and that evening I could tell that things had changed for her..... and I stepped out of the desert!

From that day on we began seeing each other more regularly.... regularly meaning about every other Sunday night. We saw each other Wednesday nights and other Sundays as well, but we did not spend time with each other. That was not the way it was done. We just smiled meaningful smiles at each other. It was a while before I took her home every Sunday night. I was almost 21 when one Sunday evening we were at her house again. We were talking seriously about the future when I asked the thousand dollar question...... "Will you be my wife"? She never hesitated. She said, "Yes", like she had practiced it before. Did you know there is more than one heaven?

In our next dates we worked at planning our wedding and setting a time. In those days, the United States draft was still in effect and every young man who was in good health was required by law to give two years of service in some branch of the armed forces. I received my draft notice as did others my age. Because I believed the Bible teaches Christians should not engage in killing and warfare, I was permitted to fill out a "conscientious objector" form. Conscientious objectors were allowed to serve the country in some alternative way. I chose to work for two years at Saint Luke's Hospital in Denver, Colorado where my older brother, Al, was already serving. The draft notice required me to be at some place of service by a certain date. Therefore, plans were made for our wedding to take place March 14, 1964 and my time of service would begin April 6, 1964...three weeks and a few days after the wedding.

Well, March 14 finally came, and while God and she and I thought we belonged together before this already, it wasn't the same kind of together we knew after that day. (The Bible talks of a third heaven!) We got married on Saturday and spent a few days on a simple honeymoon, then lived for part of a week with my parents and part of a week with her parents before we headed for Denver, Colorado.

* * * * * * * * * *

All because of that little story, there were six children born, the youngest of whom became Mrs. Bethany Eicher with a blog called About My Father's Business! It truly is amazing how God writes each of our stories with all their different details. If you've never written your story down, I'd encourage you to do so! There is something very special about reviewing the details in the story God wrote about you and your spouse, and someday your children will thank you for preserving it for them.

That's the end of Story Time in June! A big thank you to my writers for sharing and thank you readers for reading along. I hope you enjoyed it!

The Best for Last: Story # 5 Part One

Last year, when I got the bright idea to get people to guest post for me in June, I asked my mom if she would write their "How we met" story for me. Mom enjoyed writing, and usually would have been happy to do that sort of thing but she told me for some reason it just didn't really 'grab' her, and declined. Little did I know that come June she would no longer be with us.....

This past Memorial Day my family got together in Arkansas. One of my sisters asked Daddy to share a bit of family history with us and wondered if he would write down the story of how he and Mom met? When a parent is suddenly gone, you realize how many stories and how much information disappears with them! Daddy agreed to do that, and he has also agreed to letting me share that story here and I am delighted! I'll give you the first part today, and the last part on Thursday.......

* * * * * * * * * *

I started attending the Woodlawn Amish Mennonite Church when I was 16 years of age. Before that I always attended the Amish church where my parents were members. My brother, Al, who was a year and 8 months older than I, was already attending there, so it was an easy adjustment for me. I could just be his shadow. The Woodlawn Church was fairly new at that time, but people were very friendly, and I soon had friends among the youth boys, even though I was very shy and quiet.

Because we lived a little ways from the Woodlawn Church, we picked up three Amish girls from another home who were also attending Woodlawn. Alma was one of those girls and I immediately thought she was a nice girl. It took awhile for me to have the courage to have a date because.... well, some things take awhile for shy boys. I had one date with Alma while I was still 16. It was a double date which means another couple was along and we played games and I enjoyed the evening. But I was aware that she had an eye on Ervin, another one of the youth boys. Maybe she didn't want an ex-Amish boy?

Just before I turned 17, one Sunday evening Mel Shetler got the notion some of us should have dates that evening. He got Ervin and Alma together and suggested he would ask Lavina and I should ask Orpha. I wasn't about to ask anybody, much less Orpha! But I said if he did the asking, and if I could have Lavina instead of Orpha, I might consent. Well, he was that kind of guy. He did the asking and we had a triple date. Lavina was the nice girl that had a birth mark on her right leg just above the ankle. That is about all I knew about her at that time. I had no particular attraction toward her at the time, but also no objection. We went to her parents place that night and took a boat ride on the river that ran along the back of her father's farm. Again, I enjoyed the evening and thought a little more favorably of the girl named Lavina. She had handled her part well in hosting the evening.

Over the next year we had a few more dates, maybe once every three months, just enough that she didn't have any other dates nor did I. I thought of her as mine. Somewhere about that time, one evening when we were alone, she told me she wished we would stop seeing each other. She told me frankly she did not have anything against me; she just wasn't ready to be thinking about a serious courting relationship with anybody. She was not saying she never would consider it, but not now. I wanted to believe her, but I wondered if it didn't have something to do with being an inadequate little Amish boy. I went home that night feeling very sad, probably a little like most martyrs feel. I still had my admiration for her, but I knew I was locked out now. I could not imagine myself ever getting up enough nerve to ask her again. Could you?

And so, the next period of time I lived in the desert. I don't really know how long it was, maybe a year and a half. I had two dates with other girls during that time. I would often see Lavina at Youth activities and wish I could talk to her even if it was just friendly talk, but I was too bashful. I was often jealous of other boys who were able to have lengthy casual conversations with her, especially Mel Shetler.

Story # 4

My fourth story is from a friend at church here at Antrim! Judith is a special lady, who has made me feel very welcome in Ohio. I got to help her set up a blog one day which you can check out at Oh Taste and See It was fun to have a story from someone who lives right here in my community....

 

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Our story isn't long or grand, but it shows that it takes just 2 people meeting at the right time and place, even in a remote area.

I, Judith, was living in Northwestern Ontario in a town called Sioux Lookout. I was teaching school there. In the summertime we had VBS for the children and we needed teachers to help us. They would come from various places; and during the summer of 1994, a group from Antrim, Ohio, came.

The group consisted of various youth, including a young man, named Titus. She didn’t notice much about him; he was rather quiet. Years later my mother reminded me, since I didn’t seem to remember, that I thought of him as a leader.

That fall, I stopped in at Antrim and spent some time with a friend, Alta, and the group that taught VBS met for supper. It seemed that that moment stirred his heart and he began to think of her.

Three years later, the summer of 1997, he came back to teach, knowing full well what was on his heart and with the intention of talking to this young lady. It didn't happen, she was NOT THERE. She was in Israel touring the land and sights there.

The next year he was not intending to join the sojourners northward, but we were in desperate need of teachers and Nate phoned this young man up and wondered if there would be a group from Antrim that would be willing to come and help out in Sioux or Hudson. So, he organized a group and made sure he was helping out in Sioux. 

He had much determination this year to make contact, but alas, either someone was present or there were simply too many ‘eyes and ears’ paying attention and that was not what he wanted!

So, homeward he went with his mission unaccomplished!

 

I was leaving Sioux that summer for a year with loosely held plans to return more permanently. The weekend my parents came to take me back to the states, I receive a phone call and as soon as I heard the voice on the other end, I knew what was coming! Call it a women’s sixth sense…

Yes, it was the quiet young man, stating his intentions.

 

Whew, talk about a shift in the plans and I barely knew this chap! At least he gave me time to consider and a month later when he phoned, I said I’d give it a-whirl. Well, not exactly my words, but yes, I agreed.

 

Several weeks later he came to Pennsylvania for our first date and wouldn’t you know, as we were going to the restaurant, there was a traffic jam which delayed us an hour! Oh my, first time. In a vehicle. For an hour. With nerves tight. Not a good time for a traffic jam! We made it and survived. I didn’t know if I would (I could barely eat my food… )

 

And the rest is history! We are now a family of 5 – him and her and 3 lively boys!

-Him, from Ohio,
-Her from Pennsylvania
-met in Northwestern Ontario; Sioux Lookout, Canada
- joined August 5, 2000 to sojourn together on this pathway of life
-we are currently residing in Antrim, Ohio

 

Story #3

My third story comes to us from a Bible School friend of mine. Rachel and I attended Calvary Bible School together back in the days when I met my husband! We lost track of each other somewhat over the years until we discovered each other's blogs several years ago and renewed our friendship via the internet. Rachel is married to Craig and they have four beautiful children. I love reading about their adventures at www.wildflowerdays.com Rachel generously agreed to share the story of how she and her husband met....

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How We Met

I don't remember how old I was when I first met Craig. Our parents have been family friends for as long as I can remember, as our mothers had worked and roomed together while in service. I do remember taking a trip "out west" over my 16th birthday, and an evening meal at Craig's family's home. That, I suppose, was when we officially "met".

Years passed. After four years in Kenya with my family, I was ready for something new! At age 21 I left home and traveled to a far away state called Kansas, to teach school. I had a few friends there, but it was a new community and church for me. After a few months, and many good times of hanging out with the local youth, I noticed Craig. He was cool. I liked him! But there is something about being four years older than this guy, when you are 21, and he is 17, that just doesn't make sense. So I talked myself out of it, and instead we became very good friends!

I lived there for a year, went back to Kenya for two years, then came back to Kansas to teach school again. Through these years, Craig was a fantastic friend. We hung out in the same groups. We liked the same activities. We shared a wry, crazy sense of humor. What's more--we liked each other! But not in any romantic way. More in a fun, completely wholesome, sort of way. Craig loved to tease me unmercifully. I spit back and tried to retaliate the best I could. We enjoyed long discussions in small groups on many varied subjects. We met in the same prayer group every Sunday morning. Through these years, one thing stands out to me. Craig treated me, always, with utmost respect. The result was a solid, clean friendship built on mutual trust and completely free from any regrets. It was good :)

I believe it was while Craig was on a four month stint in Liberia, that things, for me, began to change. I can't tell you why, but I began simply feeling a romantic attraction. I missed him terribly. Thing escalated in my heart until I finally wrote my dad and told him how I felt. He gave me understanding, calming advice to sit still and see what happens.

Craig came back. I was so excited to hang out with him again! But things were different. Very different. What had happened?! I watched our easy, comfortable, calm friendship melt away in the distance. In it's place? I had no idea what was going on. He seemed to be avoiding me! I missed hanging out with him. But was scared to death of him at the same time. This friendship was far to valuable to lose or ruin in any way. Yet, things were simply not the same any more.

I could write for hours. :) But I will spare you the myriad of strange, shocking, wild, delightful, and ultimately beyond amazing, pieces of the puzzle. In short, as I found out later,Craig finally quit trying to hide his attraction to me, and chased me hard. And terrified, I ran. I know, that doesn't make much sense. But then, are women supposed to make sense? Especially where the heart is concerned?

In the end, God turned my heart, and I allowed this finest of friendships to turn into a romance that is still the most living and incredible part of my life.

You could say we met slowly.

And that, my friends, was how it began.

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Thank you, Rachel! God bless you as you go about your days as wife and mother!!

Story # 2 Part Three

This is the third part of our second "How We Met" story this month. Read on to find out the rest of Gina's story....

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The next year, 2000, was a very busy one for me. I did a lot of traveling and kept my parents busy shuttling me to the airport. I was twenty-four years old but single life was rich and fulfilling. It was a year of a lot of personal growth and I learned valuable lessons about myself and relationships. I saw Ed rarely that year but he continued to be in the background of my thoughts. Toward the end of the year, I told a friend about Ed and I realized that I was peering past my prejudice and noticing Ed's godly qualities.

In October I ran into Ed at a wedding reception. As people swirled around us, for the first time I allowed myself to have an extended conversation with Ed. My busy schedule was clearing out and I admitted to Ed that I didn't have any idea what I was supposed to do next with my life. Later I wasn't sure whether I was glad or sad to give him encouragement. Or even if he would take it as encouragement. (He did.)

It was a Thursday evening in February, 2001 and my family was in the kitchen with a table full of guests when the phone rang. Dad told him to call back the next evening since we had company. Poor Ed. After the agony of making the first call, he had to muster up the nerve a second time. By this time, I was ready to say "yes" and we began dating. It only took a few weeks and I knew that if Ed asked, I was willing to be his wife.

Our Mennonite/Brethren church differences didn't dissolve. We spent endless hours discussing church and our personal beliefs. I'm embarrassed to remember how many conversations ended up with me in tears. I wished that we could just have fun dating like normal couples, not dredge up intense issues. Sometimes I'm still surprised that Ed didn't give up on me. I'm sure he wished many times that I wasn't so strong-willed, opinionated, and intense.

Now we look back on those conversations and see the blessings. We were forced to learn to communicate and work through differences. Our marriage benefited immensely by the skills forged in that training ground.

Sometimes I am still shocked that a stubborn Brethren girl became a Mennonite minister's wife, but I'd marry Ed a dozen times over. God gave me much more than I ever expected or deserved.

And I'm glad my pride and prejudice didn't keep me from accepting His gift.

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Thank you so much for sharing your story with us, Gina! I so enjoyed it. May God richly bless you in your role as wife and mother. Gina blogs about motherhood, gardening, and bread baking at homejoys.blogspot.com