his face

I was a good kid. The responsible, nerdy type that was a teachers dream. Mr. Twyman knew that Brenda was just the 8th grader to send down to return the secretary's stapler..She'd be quiet, touch nothing and be back quickly, with no shenanigans in the hallway. I was faint with relief when no one was in the office, and I gently set the contraband on the desk. The church secretary at our little christian school was not to be messed with. (Which was why, I suspect, Mr. Twyman didn't go himself.) As I turned to leave (quick! before she got back and asked me questions!) I saw this photo on her desk. A double frame, with what I guessed (rightly) was his sister, next to him. And completely against my cautious nature, I picked it up. And I stared at this stranger I had never met. I wasn't even yet very interested in boys. And my 1985 adolescent self would've curled up in a slow death of embarassment if anyone had seen me. Why did I take such a risk? How could my 13 year old self believe it was anything but curiousity? There was no way to know, on that day, what God was preparing.

that in one short year, we would meet at this very church's youth group. And on a cold October evening I would be the first girl he ever asked out on a date.

That in five short years, on a sunny June afternoon, he would marry me. In this church, just a few feet from where I was now standing.

That in ten short years, as the pink sun rose on a hot August morning, I would give him a son, that looked just like him.

There was no way to know this, on that day. But the first time I saw his face...I believe that my eternal heart recognized what my childs mind could not. I was looking at my soul-mate.