Part One: Irresistible Grace! (Leading up to 1995)

 By the time I reached the age of 34, I had been exposed to Christianity in various forms but had rejected all tenets of any type of religion.  Although I had several members of my family who called themselves “born-again Christians” and although I had attended church services with them on many occasions, I had never heard the term “irresistible grace” and even if I had it would have meant absolutely nothing to me.

 My father and mother both came from a Roman Catholic background.  My father fell away from the Roman Catholic Church as a young man.  He started studying World Religions, attended a Unitarian church (on occasion) and is now a self-professed atheist.

 As a young girl, my mother was a scrupulous Catholic.  At some point during her High School years, she even decided to live with the Nuns in a convent to determine if God was calling her to the religious life.  I suppose it goes without saying that my mother did not become a nun and that’s a story for another time.

 My mother and father met at a USO dance and they later married.  My father gradually pulled my mother away from the church and she began to question her faith.  She would have basically called herself “agnostic” during those years.  My father was in and out of our lives until I was 10 or 11 years old. (That’s another long story for another time).  My mother later became a “born-again” believer.

 Although our family would be defined (by most) as “dysfunctional”, I really feel thankful for the way in which I was raised and have no real regrets or emotional scares.  Both my parents held high moral and ethical standards and taught these standards and principals to their children.  We were not only taught, but also witnessed our parents living by what I would now call “Christian principals”; not in matters of faith—but in matters of morals.  In spite of my father’s rejection of God, he always encouraged us to do our own research and to come to our own conclusions.  Everything was discussed in our house and we were always encouraged to question and to think.  (I thank God for both my mother and my father).

 Because I was a very strong-willed and self-reliant young person, peer pressure had little to no effect on me.  I was not one to follow the crowd or do things to “fit-in”.  I realized early on that bad choices meant bad consequences and that following the crowd was almost always a bad choice.  One of my father’s precious pearls of wisdom was, “The masses are asses!” and frankly I found much truth in that crude expression.  I had established my own set of moral standards and gained a sense of peace and comfort by striving to live up to them.

After my mother was “born-again” I would attend church (on occasion and to please her) for special events, to hear speakers, or on Holidays.  When visiting with my grandparents, I would also attend church services with them and have lengthy conversations regarding the faith after the service.  I had the typical questions and expressed the typical reasons for justifying my unbelief.

By the time I was 34 years of age, I had heard a lot of scripture and had basic “head” knowledge of the Christian faith.  I had definitely heard enough of the Word of God to understand, intellectually, the gospel message.

 Having learned a little bit about many of the World Religions, I basically developed my own philosophy of life.  Some of my beliefs were as follow:

 *      All religions where man-made and those who followed them were following them for one of three reasons:  1) out of fear; 2) out of ignorance; or 3) because they wanted to believe that they could live forever.  They didn’t want to believe that they would cease to exist.  I saw this as an incredibly self-centered and narcissistic motivation to be “religious”.  I felt that if God existed one should praise and worship Him simply for the air they breathed, the life they were given, and the beauty of His creation.  In fact, those that tried to evangelize me with the threat of Hell or the reward of Heaven, completely turned me off.

 *      I never felt that men were “basically good”.  I believed that one must “decide” to be good and work on it daily.  I think early on that my religion was basically—ME!  Be the best person I could be; be honest, be disciplined, be kind, be helpful, be self-reliant, be trustworthy, etc., etc.  Not with any hope of heaven or any fear of hell, but just because it made me feel good about me.  And, it seemed to make those around me happier as well.  In other words, I would weigh the pleasure I might gain from doing something wrong with the pain it might cause another having done it.  If my action would disappoint or hurt someone, I would opt not to do it.

 *      I believed that we are born, we live, and then we die.  This life is all there is—like it or not—and frankly I liked it!  I was content with life.  I had no high expectations from this life or from those around me.  One of my favorite sayings was, “no one ever promised you a rose garden”.  When someone would complain about something that I saw as minor, I would say, “Hey, things could be worse—you’re breathing aren’t you?” (Talk about a lack of compassion!)

 *      I reasoned that if God did exist, he would obviously be able to see into a person’s heart and know fully their motivations for believing in Him.  I knew that if there was indeed a God, that I could not trick Him.  I knew that I could not make myself believe or “decide” to believe.  I didn’t take this lightly.  I knew that if I was going to follow Him that it would have to be real.  I remember telling my mom, “I know how happy it would make you if I became a Christian.  But, you don’t want me to make this decision just to please you…do you?”

*      I tested everything by the result or outcome as proof of its reality.  In other words, if someone said a certain medicine would cure a certain problem, I never believed it until it actually worked.  If someone said that they found a really terrific diet that was easy to stay on and six months later they were still fat, I reasoned that either 1) the diet was not easy to stay on or 2) the diet was easy to stay on but it was not a terrific diet or they would have lost weight.  I applied this same principal to everything; including religion.  I looked for evidence of the reality of Christ in the lives of Christians.  Frankly, I didn’t see it.  Most of the Christians that I knew were miserable and I was happy.  I was certainly not going to join a club where most of the members didn’t seem to benefit from membership; didn’t seem to accurately reflect their club president; and, where many of the members didn’t appear to follow even the basic rules.

 *      I thought that religion (and Christianity in particular) was basically a good thing because people did need accountability-if nothing else.  They needed rules to live by (regardless of their motivation for following them) as men were not “basically good” and I thought that the rules and principals of Christianity were good ones.  I never would attempt to discourage anyone who had “religion”.  I wasn’t convinced that “religion” really helped many people, but it seemed to keep them in check—to some degree.

 Perhaps this helps in understanding why my Christian grandmother would say, “You are going to be a tough egg to crack.”

 I had a 15 year career with the County of Santa Clara; a nice office; a great salary; I was basically quite content.  I had never married, no children, no boyfriend, but I can say I was happy.  Most of my friends were either married and miserable or dating and miserable.  I was single and happy.

 Now the cracking begins!

 I was doing double sessions of Jazzercise--five days a week, and was taking Salsa Dance lessons and dancing at a club in Mountain View twice a week.  I really loved dance.  I didn’t go to the club to meet men.  I simply loved the dance.  In fact, at the age of five I remember seeing Gene Kelly in An American in Paris and thinking, “that’s what I want to be when I grow up!”

 During one of my Jazzercise sessions, my entire left side went completely numb and I couldn’t raise my left foot off of the ground.  My best friend (Deni) rushed me to the emergency room where they performed an emergency CT Scan.  After several months and additional tests, I was finally diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS).

 I started to ponder my future.  I read everything written about MS that I could get my hands on.  The reality of this diagnosis was overwhelming to me and with that reality came my own little “pity party”.  I suppose that I realized for the first time that there was absolutely nothing that I could do to change the outcome.  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make this go away.

 My symptoms would fluctuate from severe to subtle and I lived in constant fear that the MS would come on strong and I would lose my sight, my speech or my ability to walk.  Sometimes the symptoms would disappear completely; but the “pity party” continued and was getting progressively worse.

 One night I went out to a club to see a friend perform with her ethnic dance troupe and proceeded to drink “gin and tonics”—one right after the other.  Once the club closed, I got into my car (in total denial that I had had way too much to drink) and proceeded to drive home.  In a matter of minutes (just a few blocks from the parking lot) I was pulled over and arrested for “Driving Under the Influence”.

 What?  “Little miss perfect with a DUI!  How did this happen?  I thought you were so strong!  I thought you were so smart!  I thought you didn’t do the stupid self-centered things that so many others do?  I thought you were different!  What happened to “nobody promised you a rose garden?”  Now, here you are feeling sorry for yourself, drinking and driving, endangering other people, and getting arrested for DUI.”  I was devastated.

 I realized that my perceived “happiness” was primarily based on my ability to control myself and my life and now it (and I) was completely out of control.  I see now that God used all these things (the MS and the DUI and many other things) to make me realize just how powerless, pathetic, weak, depraved, and helpless I truly was.

 After the DUI, I spent the next few months reflecting on my life, my philosophy and my own depravity.  I remember being at the end of myself.  The “ME” religion had died—It had obviously failed the test.

 One morning at work, I was so overwhelmed that I could no longer concentrate.  I was never one to discuss my problems with others and frankly I didn’t find most people’s counsel very helpful.  As ugly and arrogant as that sounds—it was the truth at that time.  What happened next was very surprising.  Even as I recount it now, I am struck with how unbelievable it truly was.

 What makes it even more wonderful is that I was never one to have, or to desire, “emotional experiences” and ran quickly from anything that seemed “touchy-feely”.  So what happened?

 Shortly before the lunch hour, and after getting really nothing accomplished due to the distractions of thoughts and feelings that I was experiencing, my foolish, stubborn, strong-willed, prideful heart began warring inside of me against an even stronger tugging on my heart that I could no longer ignore.  I began pouring my heart out to a God that I wasn’t even sure existed.

 Remember, I had heard the gospel message a number of times, I knew who the bible said that Jesus was, I understood why He came and what He had accomplished, I just refused to believe.  I simply was never willing or able to surrender control to anything or anyone.  The scripture that came to mind and had the most influence on my understanding of what it meant to truly surrender to Christ, was when Jesus said "If anyone comes to Me and does not hate his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and his own life also, he cannot be My disciple.  And whoever does not bear his cross and come after Me cannot be My disciple.  For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not sit down first and count the cost, whether he has enough to finish it--lest, after he has laid the foundation, and is not able to finish, all who see it begin to mock him.  This was one of the scriptures that kept me from making a “decision” for Christ.  I knew I was certainly not there.  I knew that He would know I was lying (if he actually existed).

 I remember crying out to God, “I am at the end of myself.  If you exist, please, please, reveal yourself to me.  I am lost and realize my own insignificance and depravity.  I’m not asking that you cure my MS; I’m not asking that you solve all my problems; I am only asking that you reveal yourself to me.  I sincerely want to know the truth.  If you will somehow show me that you are really there, I will start living for you.  I will devote the rest of my life to following and serving you regardless of what that might cost.”

 As I sat there pleading with God, I was suddenly filled with the irresistible, undeniable presence and reality of God.  (Again, I am not one to be prone to “supernatural” or “emotional experiences” so this was truly and completely unsolicited by me.)  The best way that I can describe it is to say that I felt as if God had opened up the top of my head and slowly began pouring warm oil in—until it filled and infused my entire being.  My heart was warmed beyond human explanation.  I had no doubt whatsoever of the reality of God and bowed down to Him in praise and thanksgiving.  My heart and my head had been radically transformed.  I COULD DO NOTHING BUT BELIEVE!”

 Looking back, the scripture that comes to mind is, For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

 The first thing I did was to share this with all the Christians in the office.  I left my office to track them down.  I couldn’t wait to tell them that “I believe”.  There were tears of rejoicing and they spread the word quickly among the other professing Christians in the office.  I then proceeded to tell everyone I knew—even people I didn’t know (which was really atypical behavior for me).

 That night I called my Grandmother and said to her, “Well Grandma, the tough egg has finally cracked!”  My grandfather fell to his knees and I could hear him praising God, as my Grandmother rejoiced with me.  The word spread quickly through the family and the Christians all rejoiced.  Unknown to me they had been praying for me for years.

 Shortly thereafter, my very best friend (Deni) also was saved by God’s grace and received Christ as her Lord and Savior.

 From that moment in June of 1995, I was radically changed and desired nothing more than to grow in the grace and knowledge of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ…to know God, to follow God, and to serve God all the days of my life.  Christ and the things of God which previously I had found uninteresting became fascinating.  What, at one time, would have bored me—now thrilled me!  God’s irresistible grace had transformed my entire orientation from darkness to light!

 Mine was certainly not the most humble of conversions.  In fact, knowing what I know now, I was certainly a “Doubting Thomas”.  I refused to believe until God Himself was gracious and merciful enough to answer my request that He prove Himself to me.  I am grateful to God for the fact that he drew me to Himself in spite of myself.  This is one reason why I so strongly believe in God’s Sovereignty.  If the decision had been left up to me to make, I would have never made it.  I am still in awe of the undeserved mercy He showed to me and of the irresistible grace that He poured into a self-righteous; unbelieving; sin-filled; stubborn skeptic’s heart.

 No human reasoning could have convinced me; no desire to escape hell and gain Heaven would have motivated me; and, the examples of others certainly would have not persuaded me of the reality of God.   It was truly and only the irresistible grace of God that saved me.  I will close with this excerpt from a sermon preached by C.H. Spurgeon which so beautifully describes my conversion experience:

 “No lips can tell the love of Christ to the heart until Jesus Himself shall speak within.   Descriptions all fall flat and feeble unless the Holy Spirit fills them with life and power; until God makes Himself known to us, the soul does not see Him.  If you would see the sun, would you gather together the common means of illumination and seek in that way to view its splendor? No; the wise man knows that the sun must reveal itself, and only by its own blaze can that mighty orb be seen.

 It is the same with Christ.  "Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah!" He said to Peter.   "For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you." Purify flesh and blood by any educational process you may select, elevate mental faculties to the highest degree of intellectual power, yet none of these can reveal Christ. 

 The Spirit of God must come with power and overshadow the man with His wings, and then in that mystic holy of holies the Lord Jesus must display Himself to the sanctified eye, as He does not to the spiritually blind sons of men.  Christ must be His own mirror.  The great mass of this dim-sighted world can see nothing of the indescribable glories of Jesus.

 He stands before them without form or majesty, a root out of a dry ground, rejected by the vain and despised by the proud.  Only where the Spirit has illumined the eye, quickened the heart with divine life, and educated the soul to a heavenly taste, only there is He understood.  He is precious to the believer; He is the chief cornerstone, the Rock of your salvation, our all in all; but to others He is "a stone of stumbling, and a rock of offense."

 Happy are those to whom our Lord reveals Himself, for His promise to such is that He will make His home with them.  O Jesus, our Lord, our heart is open; come in, and never leave.  Show Yourself to us now! Favor us with a glimpse of Your embracing loveliness.”

 Ephesians 2:7-10

That in the ages to come he might show the exceeding riches of his grace in his kindness toward us through Christ Jesus.  For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God:  Not of works, lest any man should boast.  For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them.

 Romans 9:16

So then it is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that sheweth mercy.

 Yes…God’s saving grace is truly “irresistible”.  Much has happened since my conversion in 1995.  In fact, it was in the same year that I met a wonderful “Christian” man and married.  See “The Sufficiency of Christ” for (as Paul Harvey would say), “the rest of the story”.

 

 

Post Script

Interestingly enough, I had been misdiagnosed in 1995.  I never actually had Multiple Sclerosis.  In 1997, after 3 additional MRI’s and further testing it was determined that the symptoms that I had experienced were caused by a malformation in the brain where the lower portion of the brain is herniating into the spinal cord.  When the herniation becomes severe, it blocks the flow of spinal fluid from the brain to the central nervous system which creates symptoms that mimic MS.

 This disorder is called, Arnold Chiari Malformation or ACM (type I).  They believe it may be congenital and symptoms may appear later in life.  I have a very minor type (type 1) of ACM and with lifestyle changes (like not jumping up and down for an hour in Jazzercise classes) can live almost symptom free.

 I want to thank God for my best friend, Deni.  She has stood by me through all the phases of my adult life and has been the very best friend a person could ever have.  I am very blessed.

 

Part Three: Surprised by God! (2006-2010)

 

I found myself single at the age of 41. 

 At the age of 41, I was content in my singleness (for details see “Part Two: Post Conversion Story”) and found my joy and happiness primarily in Christ and secondarily in my relationships with others who are dear to me.  I had no children from my first marriage and for that I am grateful.

 I worked full-time in law enforcement (civilian service) and I spent most of my free time reading and writing and serving the Lord where I was able.

 Within the first three years of finding myself single, I had amassed a theology library of over 3,000 books.  I found little comfort, wisdom our growth from local pulpits; but, an amazingly rich, Christ centered, Christ exalting treasure chest within the words spoken or penned by those who have long sense gone to be with the Lord.  I affectionately called them, “My Dead Men”.  In fact, I grew closer to the Lord, during that time and my knowledge and affections for God and His truth grew more in one year of suffering, than in the previous 6+ years of being married and attending church faithfully.  In fact, I would have never wanted what had happened to have not happened, if that would mean I would have to give up where God had brought me because of it.

 In addition to reading, I found terrific resources online and spent a great deal of my free time in devotion and in studying God’s Word using those resources.  I also discovered the world of “theology blogs” and eventually learned how to create my own.  I used my blog as a personal journal—not only as a place to store Christ exalting excerpts from my readings; but, also to document my walk with the Lord; and, as a place to write personal commentary.

 As a single Christian woman, without children, I was blessed with a considerable amount of free time after coming home from work.  It was difficult to find other women who had time to spend in meaningful fellowship.  Their lives were filled up with their families (and rightfully so).  I was hungry to find other Christians who had both the desire and the time to fellowship around the things of God.  I found these Christians on some wonderfully edifying theology websites and blogs.  These “relationships” became like “pen-pals” before there was technology.

 Most of the website authors and visitors to these blogs were young seminary students, arm-chair theologians, and pastors.  What a wonderful time this was—dialoguing with Christians from all over the world who loved the Lord and the things of God.  One of the blogs that I visited regularly hosted a “Puritan Challenge”, where over 3,000 of us were reading together, for an entire year, 12 difficult Puritan classics (one each month) and then sharing our comments and insights with one another via the blog.

 The internet was a foreign world to me, initially, and I was concerned about the potential danger of internet profiling and identity theft.  Being a single female, I was not comfortable using my full name.  So, I choose my initials intentionally because I wanted to retain a certain amount of anonymity. Therefore, I become known only as “D.L. Kane” on these websites and blogs.

 I enjoyed being provoked into deeper thought and study.  The level of knowledge and insight on these blogs was effective in that way.  I also found the environment very conducive to my straightforward style of writing.  Then it happened!   After two years (or so) of dialoging, on one particular blog, one of the young men posted a comment directing people to my comment and ending with “thank you brother for that insight”.

 “Brother!”  I sat there rather stunned and then I felt sad.  They all knew me as “D.L.” and things seemed to be working out just fine. In all the years -- the issue of gender had never come up.  I knew that I had to set the record straight.  There was a part of me, however, that seemed to know that when I did, things would change.

 I emailed the young pastor privately and explained that I was not his brother; but his sister, and that I was actually old enough to be his mother.  He was a good sport about it and apologized for assuming that I was a guy.  I reasoned that if he assumed that I was a “brother” the other brothers may have the same assumption, so I decided to “come out of the closet” so to speak.

 Things did change from that point forward—which I had anticipated, and, which I totally understood.  I joke about it now saying “I was the Yentle of the Internet”.   Of course, you would have had to see the movie “Yentle”, in order to get the analogy.

 I must admit that during that time I experienced a level of fellowship that was very edifying and wonderful; but, things had changedin terms of the way they dialogued with me now that they knew I was female and I knew that wisdom would dictate that I find a place to fellowship with women who had an interest in theology and the time to devote to such things.

 That is what led me to the Sovereign Grace Singles (SGS) website.  I reasoned that a website for “reformed” single people might be a place where I would find single women who had time and interest in discussing theology and the Word of God.    On November 15, 2008, I filled out a profile and was online with SGS.

 There was a place on the profile to indicate why you were there, i.e., looking for fellowship; wanting to join a forum; looking for a spouse, etc.  I made my profile “crystal clear” and was intentionally forthright about who I was and why I was there.  After reading some of the men’s profiles, my primary motivation was to spare single men from misunderstanding my intentions for being on the website and to let women know that I was not one they might want to dialogue with if they were overly sensitive, i.e., got their feelings hurt easily.  I had been down that road too many times and found it extremely frustrating and time consuming to have to “flower over” or soften my words every time I had a different point of view.

 **** The Following is an excerpt from my profile.  Looking back, it is somewhat embarrassing but, it is what it is, and it is who I was when I wrote it.  *********************

 “Indicate some of your character traits, values, etc” was a question to be answered as part of the profile.  The following was my answer:

 I have taken many "temperament", "spiritual gifts", and "personality" tests. Such tests always label the results with titles or categories to identify your dominate temperament or personality type. Here are the labels (as unattractive as they are in a woman) I was labeled with:

 

·       Steam Roller

·       Commander

·       Drill Sergeant

·       Prophet/Teacher

 

All tests indicate that my decisions are primarily dictated by "reason" not "feelings". I am a "realists" not an "idealist". I am a "thinker" not a "feeler".

A Steam Roller and a Drill Sergeant!  Ouch!!!

 Let us not forget that we are all different parts of the body of Christ and therefore have a diversity of gifts that when used with a heart yielded to God’s Holy Spirit and with a genuine desire to bring Glory to God; to strengthen believers; and to usher souls into the Kingdom, He uses all of us for His purposes (even female Steam Rollers and Drill Sergeants!)

 A Steam Roller can either be used to flatten everything in its path or to prepare a parcel of land to safely support a sky scrapper that will house thousands of people.

 A Drill Sergeant can either be used to “break” people or to prepare them for battle so that they stand a better chance of surviving enemy attack.

 A Prophet/Teacher can be used to create cults that destroy people’s souls or can be used to proclaim the Word of God and to help those in the body understand it so that they can grow as a result and be better ambassadors of Christ.

 I pray that God will always use me for His purpose and that I never despise how he chose to make me or the gifts that He has given me, and that I never question His wisdom in giving them to me. In my heart I have no desire to flatten anyone; to break anyone; or to create followers of “me”.

 Through the transforming power of the Holy Spirit and the Word of God, my rough edges will get sanded down over time; however, at this point in my life, this is who I am, and I want my friends to see me for who I am and make a conscience decision as to whether or not I would be of value to them in their lives.

 If you are looking for comfort, it would probably be best to look elsewhere, as I am not very good at being a "comforter".  I will probably end up hurting your feelings, without even trying to, because of my style of communication.

 In addition, I am transparent and don't mind being dissected by anyone who wants to get to know me. I don't bandage tumors, I dig them out. I don't tell people what they want to hear, I tell people what I feel they need to hear if it will help them, and I want the same from others. I care more about a person’s soul than their temporal comfort. I will help you build a house, but if you smash your finger with the hammer, I am not the one to come crying to. I will probably tell you, "Gee, I'm sorry--now "cowboy up" and get back to work".

 Not a pretty picture; but I want anyone interested in dialoguing with me to know this about me. Don't ask me a question if you are seeking comfort rather than honesty.  I am a woman, but find it difficult to relate to most women. In all honesty, although I love them; most women drive me nuts.  My heart is driven by a desire to defend the truth; to proclaim the beauty of Christ with honor, integrity, and courage; to live a life that will bring Glory to God and shine His light on a lost and dying world.

 

“What is one thing you are passionate about?  My answer:

 TRUTH.

 To lighten things up a bit:  I want the truth!  No matter how hard it is to swallow; no matter how ugly and painful it might be. I have found no benefit in living in a false reality. If I ask you if these pants make my butt look big (and they indeed do) I want you to say, "Yes, dear, those pants make your butt look big". Even better still--"Actually honey, the pants don't make your butt look big--the truth is your butt is big." Of course, that would only apply if I indeed had a big butt.  That is the kind of communication I can respect and that I desire from those who say that they love me. That is a person I can trust!

 ========================================================================

That was how my profile read on the website.

All-in-all, my intention for joining SGS did not result in finding what I was hoping to find.  I found no women on the website interested in theological dialogue.  In fact, not a single woman commented.

 Some men, after reading my profile, felt compelled to leave comments.  There were those scolding me for my forthrightness and expressing how inappropriate they felt it was for a Christian woman to express herself the way in which I did.  Other men left (what I felt were) inappropriate comments expressing an interest in me, such as: “You can be my drill sergeant anytime.”

 Then, just as I was planning on deleting my profile and leaving the website, a man left this comment:

  “I just have one question. Do you always beat around the bush when first introducing yourself?”

 Now that was funny!  The timing was perfect.  Here I was relatively disappointed that I had spent so much time typing up a profile that took hours, only to discover that I was not going to find what I was looking for and then this comment pops up.  My immediate reaction was, “Now that’s someone I might enjoy getting to know.”

 I did leave SGS; but, before doing so, I commented back and eventually gave this man my personal email and told him to feel free to email me should he be interested in discussing theology.

 And that is how it all began.  I later found out that one of his Pastors, knowing that Michael was looking for a wife, had encouraged him to check out SGS and it turned out that he created an account during my last week on that website.

 That was November 17, 2008.  Michael and I began corresponding through emails for nine months.  In those nine months, it became clear to me that the Lord was doing something very wonderful in bringing the two of us together.  As much as I was not looking or praying for a husband, it also became clear to me that God may have different plans.

 In a nutshell:  Over a course of a year and a half, we had spent less than 28 days in each other’s physical presence before we married.  During that year and a half, we would read books over the phone each night together like “Religious Affections” by Jonathan Edwards, “The Privy Key to Heaven” by Thomas Brooks; and, exchanged well over 6,000 printed pages of emails discussing theology, life experiences, expectations, values, etc.

 During that same time, we met face-to-face in August 2009 when he flew to California from North Carolina to meet my people.  In October 2009, I flew to North Carolina to meet his people.  In January 2010, Michael flew back to California when he proposed to me, and we made plans to be married.

 All-in-all, only 28 days total before, I flew to North Carolina on May 17, 2010.  The very next day, May 18, 2010, we were married in the Assistant Living Facility where is Grandma was living.

 It was to be a private ceremony with just the Pastor, his wife, Michael’s mom, grandma, and siblings.  Unbeknownst to us, the activity director had converted the dining room into a wedding chapel with a floral archway, wedding cake, flowers everywhere.  Even the residents were all dressed up sitting in the chairs on either side of the aisle where I was to enter, when we arrived.  She had also arranged for the ladies that Michael had been ministering to at the other facilities (where he preached each week) to be bused in to attend the wedding and say their farewells to Michael!

 We spent our Honeymoon driving back across the United States (over 3,000 miles) in his 1995 Honda Accord, to arrive at our little apartment in Sacramento California.  We were able to break up the trip to have lunch with Sam and Annie Storms and to visit my grandpa in Oklahoma.  How we got to know Sam, is another sweet chapter in our courtship experience.

 Each episode of our courtship would require its own chapter and I hope, one day, to have the chance to express, in writing, the way in which God manifested His will in each of those chapters.  Until then, this small chapter will have to suffice for those who are curious and have wanted to know “How we met”.

 I did begin writing a chapter on “The Wandering Jew” which details Michael’s first trip to meet me face-to-face in Califronia.  I will include it now as a draft:

  The Story of a Wandering Jew

A Precious Little Gift

 Very Rough Draft and Outline

 It was late July 2009, when he stepped off the plane.  She had arrived at the airport 2 hours before his plane would land and spent the time pacing the many corridors of the different terminals, trying to keep from checking the time to often, as she knew that would only make the time go by even slower.  She decided to get a cup of coffee and read 2 Corinthians even though she knew that her ability to concentrate on the text would be limited if not a complete impossibility.

 As she opened the bible, her eyes fell upon 2 Corinthians 4:6 and she read, “For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.”  Although she had read this passage many times, today was different.  As she sat there awaiting his arrival, she decided to memorize this passage and to share it with him once he landed.

 As she sat there meditating on the passage and reciting it in her mind over and over, she noticed that her coffee was gone.  She didn’t even remember drinking it and yet the cup was empty.  A woman walked passed the table and paused for a moment to check for something in her purse.  “Excuse Miss—do you happen to know what time it is?” she asked the passerby.

 An hour and a half had gone by sense she had sat down to drink her coffee and read.  His plane would be landing in 15 minutes.

 She gathered up her things and headed for the nearest restroom to check her face and hair.  Even though she was very much against being judged by her external beauty, today she felt a certain amount of anxiety about what he might think of her physical appearance.

 They had never met face-to-face.  She was to pick him up at the airport and give him a ride to a hotel where he would be spending the night.  He would then spend the rest of the week with his uncle in a town that was a 2 hour drive from the airport and she would spend the rest of the week at work.  They had that afternoon and evening to spend together before he would be leaving the next day.

 She was filled with such a mixture of emotions.  He mentioned that he would be wearing a red polo shirt and she knew that he would be carrying a black sports bag with the logo from a conference she had attended in the fall of the previous year.  There he was.  His red shirt stood out among the sea of washed out grays and blacks and tans that surrounded him on the escalator.  Her heart was pounding.

 Although they had exchanged pictures of one another; she wasn’t sure if she would have recognized him had he not been wearing that red shirt.

 She was studying his face while the escalator descended wondering when their eyes would meet--wondering if he would smile when he recognized her standing there.  He glanced up and fixed a steady gaze upon her.  There was a smile—a soft, kind, and yet reserved smile that left her feeling somewhat unsure about how he felt.

 She met him a few feet from the foot of the escalator and they embraced.  It seems as though the world had stood still as they held each other tight.  They walked hand-in-hand to the baggage claim looking at one another more often then to where they were headed, as if studying each others faces—trying to take in more information than humanly possible.  This was no casual meeting.  This was a long anticipated experience.

 His suitcase finally appeared on the conveyor belt and they walked together to the car, constantly glancing over at one another.

 Once in the hotel room, he unpacked a few things and then turned to her and said, “Oh, I almost forgot—I brought you something, but I’m not sure how it survived the trip.”  He pulled a zip-lock bag from his carry-on and handed it to her.  It was a cutting from a plant that had grown on the porch of his grandmother’s house.  He had told her the story of this plant, how it had almost died and that a new plant had grown from a cutting like the one he was giving to her.

 “What a strange and wonderful thing to do and what a strange and wonderful man he is” she thought as she thanked him for the little cutting.  He pointed out that the plant inside had a good root system and even a clump of dirt from the pot he had taken it from; but the zip-lock bag was warm and the cutting looked very pale; almost gray in color and transparent.  She knew that she had better get this little guy into some soil fast, if it was going to have any chance at all of surviving.

 He was exhausted.  Not just from the 10 hour flight; but, also from lack of sleep and the emotional exhilaration and anticipation of meeting this woman, whom he had been corresponding with over the past 8 months.

 They knew that they would be seeing each other again in four short days.  His uncle was picking him up in the morning and she would be joining him there after the work week was over.  But, still they didn’t want to part.

She lived only 10 minutes from the hotel.  Glancing down at the zip-lock bag and then looking into his tired eyes, she said, “How about if I zip home, get this little guy into some soil, and then pick up something for the two of us to eat.  I can be back in about an hour?”

 Although he didn’t want her to leave, he agreed to the plan.