At the Foot of the Bed

April 29, 2011 was the 16th anniversary of my marriage to Chris. There was a lot of hoopla going on around my anniversary over some other couple across the pond that was to share our wedding date. It kind of made our anniversary that much more fun this year as people were talking about fairy tales and happily ever afters.

It's funny because after 16 years, the early days of courtship and marriage get pushed to the rear of your memory. Those fun stories of our first dates and pre-kid adventures had collected cobwebs in the very back of my mind. Then just a couple of days after our anniversary I sat on a panel for our junior high youth ministry. We were asked questions by the kids. One of the questions was "How do you know when he's 'The One'"? Of course the first thing that popped into my mind in responding to a junior higher was "You're in junior high! He's NOT the one!" ha ha. I didn't really say that.

But I was asked point blank - how did I know Chris was 'The One'? Wow. I hadn't thought about that question in years! Of course, I know Chris is the man for me but I hadn't thought about "that moment" when you know, you know? Then it came to me. An amazing memory I hadn't thought of in years.

The story. The story of the moment I knew that Chris was 'The One'. Want to hear it?

Chris had brought me home from our date on a Saturday night. The two girls with whom I shared a house were out of town. We said goodnight at the door. Chris had to get up very early the next day to go preach an hour away at a church that was considering him for their youth pastor position.

Just after he left I was walking through the house and noticed the back sliding glass door was open. I became very frightened. Based on memories from a traumatic event from high school, I became paralyzed with fear. I called one of my girlfriends on the phone but she was an hour away. These were the days before cell phones so I couldn't call Chris until he got back to his house. My girlfriend tried to calm me but I was nearly hysterical. Eventually, she got me to hang up the phone and try Chris at his house. By the grace of God, he was there and he immediately drove back over.

As soon as I let him in I fell into his arms in a mess of tears. He calmly let me cry and I told him about my terrible experience that had left these scars of fear. Thanks to his patience, unconditional care (and a thorough search of the house for bad guys), I pulled myself together and told him to go home and get some sleep.

Here's where the story gets good. He refused to leave. He called his accountability partner and told him he was staying at my house that night. It was a three bedroom house so there was plenty of room for us to sleep apart. I showed him a room down the hall from mine where he could get some good sleep. He refused to sleep down the hall. He said he would sleep at the foot of my bed all night. I said that was silly but between you and me, I knew it was the only way I would get any rest.

Here was a guy who had to get up in a few short hours to drive 60 miles to preach two services that would determine if he got his first full-time job. Here was a guy who saw a comfortable bed down one end of the hall and a frightened mess of a girl and a hard floor at the other end and chose the mess and the hard floor.

That was it. That was the moment. Who does such things? A guy who believes Ephesians 5:25 does such things..."Husbands, love your wives just as Christ loves the church and gave himself up for her". He sacrificed so I could feel safe. He's been sacrificing for me ever since!

So that was roughly 16 years ago. No one celebrated our marriage by making porcelain plates or tea towels with our pictures on it. The networks didn't cover our 'love story'. No one made guesses at what my dress would look like.

Our story may not make the history books but that doesn't matter to me. I know our story. I know Chris is 'The One' because he loves me unconditionally. He loves me when I'm a mess. He stays when anyone else would run. He's 'The One' because he slept at the foot of my bed.