Thirteen Years- Part 1

While the number itself bares little significance, I was surprised to realize earlier in the week that today, August 28, is the day that Fernando and I met...thirteen years ago. It seems odd to me that I can remember events from my life, specifically my adulthood, that happened that long ago as I often feel as if I am still in my teens (despite what my body screams).

I remember the day vividly, it was hot and a bit muggy, as it always is in Phoenix this time of year (to us Phoenicians, 30% humidity is "muggy" and we can certainly feel it). It was my second day of classes at Southwestern College after transferring there as a junior. Only weeks earlier I had gone on a tirade about how much I did NOT want to go to school there. I believe my rant included something about "home school boys" and "Bible college losers", if I remember correctly. I'm certain my mother could recount most of the details if I asked, but seeing as it wasn't one of my finest moments, I think I'll just let it remain in the past.

I do remember one specific comment that was made- something to the effect that probably the only guy that would ever show any interest in me was most likely the only Mexican guy on campus. In the past I had always been favored by the Mexican gentlemen I came in contact with. Although, my experience with them was usually limited to cat calls and lewd comments made entirely in Spanish from soccer fields and/or the cabs of overly-crowded landscaping trucks. Having stated that opinion, just weeks before the start of classes, I vowed to attend class, keep to myself, and in doing so, not give a moments thought to any member of the opposite sex.

The first day of classes went very much as anticipated. I spent most of the day with a gal I had known since childhood, so relieved to have found a familiar face even if she was a Freshman. :)
She encouraged me to join the choir and reluctantly I agreed. The next day I sheepishly entered the choir rehearsal room. It seemed everyone already knew everyone else and I could not figure out how. I came to realize that many of them had spent the previous week in rehearsals as members of a smaller, traveling ensemble. Good for them. I vividly remember walking down a row to an empty seat when I looked up to see this young man entering the room. He had a smile on his face as people greeted him and I froze in my spot. He had a face that I recognized, though I was certain we had never met. I stared at him, trying to figure out why he was so strangely familiar. That's when I heard it. A voice, audible only in my head and certainly not my own, as I immediately began to argue with it as soon as it spoke. It said..."That's the man you're going to marry." And although I flatly denied that prospect, I knew it was true. I didn't know this person's name, or where he was from, but I knew I was going to marry him...whether I liked it or not. As a little girl, I always dreamed of what my future husband would be like and no matter what picture I conjured up in my mind, he never had a face. I now knew why this stranger looked so familiar...it was HIS face that I'd been waiting to see. And I liked it...a lot. Sappy? Maybe. But, definitely Divine and completely wonderful!

Now, I've heard many folks say that God has a sense of humor and it is truly undeniable. Although, I often feel that he's not laughing WITH me quite as much as he's laughing AT me. Picture this...college co-ed on her second day of class lays eyes on, quite literally, the man of her dreams. All she wants is to know something about him...anything. Imagine my excitement as our director began to take roll, calling out each name and awaiting a response. I realized this was my chance. I was going to find out the name of my future husband. I sat in eager anticipation, my heart pounding, my breath caught in my chest, waiting for his name to be called. And then the moment was upon me. Our director looked up, made eye contact with the stranger, sitting only two rows directly in front of me and said, "Fernando".

Slightly more muffled than the first voice in my head was the sound of laughter and the words I so vehemently expressed to my mother only weeks before played over and over in my head. There he was, the man I was going to marry with the face I'd been waiting for...and he was Mexican. I quickly scanned the room and every face on campus for the following week. It was just as I suspected. Not only was he Mexican...he was the ONLY Mexican on campus.

Sad, But True

I find it very sad that I can now only find time to blog once every month...I'm going to make a meager attempt to do some catch up today. Wish me luck!