*from my blog entry on 2/10/16
It wasn't my first time walking down the aisle. It was different this time. It might have been for the obvious reason, I was 52 years old. Or it could have been the pride that I felt for my son as he walked me down the aisle. Not sure. But, it was definitely different. I saw him at church on Sunday. This new guy. He did look familiar but I didn't really pay much attention. Not that he wasn’t handsome. He was. I just glanced. Dare not to stare. I hadn't looked at a man like that in a very long time. Eleven years to be exact. I had vowed with God that I wouldn't search for a mate. If He wanted me to have someone in my life, He would have to bring him to me. I know that sounds pretty staunch. I really believed it. My life was wrapped around raising my 16 year old son since our divorce. I was 40 years old. It didn't seem likely that I would marry again. I was okay with that. I came home from a Fall Festival at the school where I was teaching. I went to my phone to receive my messages. There was his name. I stood frozen. Although I hadn't paid much attention to him at church. We had only talked briefly about unimportant things like me needing to get a tree cut down in my yard. There was something that came over me. It was so different this time seeing his name on my caller ID in my own home. I know this is going to sound real weird, but I knew. I thought about how Elizabeth must have felt when her baby leaped in her stomach when she saw Mary whom was pregnant with Jesus. It pales in comparison but it was a sacred occasion for me. God had chosen this man for me. I was ninety-nine percent sure. I didn't return the call that night. The next night either. I never did. If this was meant to be, it would be. Insecurely optimistic, I prayerfully moved forward. You know, God has a good sense of humor. This almost stranger and I had grown up together around 35 years ago. We knew it, but as we became better acquainted, it was like we were hearing it for the very first time. We became kids again reminiscing about living in a small town in the south, swimming in the same icy cold creek, and attending the same school, kindergarten through 12th grade. Our parents knew each other and my dad was even his little league baseball coach. Our paths just never really crossed. He was four years older than me; closer to my sister's age. We started dating. I can still hear him as he asked me on our first date. "Can you come over Saturday night, I will cook for you?" I had never had a man cook for me. Dating was so new. I married young the first time. Right out of high school. I had never dated very much. It didn't take me long to realize though that this definitely was not teenage love. He had a maturity about him and confidence to boot. I loved his salt and pepper grey hair. He smiled with a sexy slight wink with his right eye. I loved how easy he was to talk to. I remember telling him about a new book that I had just finished reading. It was my very favorite of all time. He wanted to read it. Our conversation over dinner was open and honest. The only flaw I could find in him was he didn't drink wine. I knew that either I would lose my taste for it or he would acquire a taste. Either way, he was a keeper. I wasn't planning on losing him. We spent Christmas together. You will never guess what he bought me? Crystal wine goblets. We shared dinner over candles and Christmas tree lights. It was very romantic. Our first kiss was simple and sweet. But, oh so satisfying. Everyone told me, "You look so radiant." We spent the weekend together in the Blue Ridge mountains where we rented a chalet. Celine Dion sang her heart out that night as we danced to a rhythm that only two people in love could feel. He asked me to marry him during a trip to visit my son in college. We both said, "Yes." My son and I. We married 8 months after I saw his name that night on my caller ID. As my son walked me down the aisle, reaching the front, my arm slid out of his arm and we hugged. He was no longer the only man in my life. God had truly brought me another one. There was no doubt about it. Precious words flooded my soul... Blessed is she who believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her. He did.
Rewritten for possible entry in series entitled, " Love Stories" in Chicken Soup For the Soul. Whether they choose to publish it or not, it is a win/win situation for me. I ♥ loved ♥ writing it. It is dedicated to my faithful God and to my wonderful husband and friend.
💕 with my whole heart,
sammie jean
