I shake my head. I can’t imagine any of that. “Is that why you went to a different college at first?”
“Yes. I almost followed him to Mines, but it’s good that I didn’t. I had a lot to learn apart from him first.”
“Did you date other dudes?”
“I did.”
So weird. “And?”
“And none of them were Archie. We were apart for a year, and it was torture. I cried myself to sleep so many nights. It felt like half of me had gotten amputated. That half was walking around in another state, dating I didn’t know who. Thankfully it was pre-social media. All that would have made it so much worse. Anyway, the middle stuff—the stuff between kissing and the finale—it’s part of the glue that God gave for a husband and wife. To cement them together.” She grimaces at the expression I’m making. “It’s a lot to stomach. That’s why it’s taken me this long. Should I stop?”
“No, I want to hear the end.”
“Okay. We’d been apart about a year when your dad wrote me a letter.” She chuckles to herself. “I walked to lunch with my friend as I read it and nitpicked every misspelled word and missed comma, just trying to cope with my mind exploding. I really never thought I’d talk to him again. And I wasn’t going to just jump back into something that had hurt me. But a lot of prayer and long-distance calls later, we came to a solution—a strategy to keep God first in our hearts, never ever second. One way I did that was by spending time with Jesus before I spent time with Archie each day. And we quit kissing till we were engaged. We also quit watching TV together, since that was a big temptation spot for us.”
“Wait, you quit kissing? Like, completely?”
“Yep.”
Woah. “That’s a big commitment.”
“No kidding. Considering how much chemistry there was?—”
“Got it. Say no more.”
She nods quickly. “Our experience with the Snowball Effect taught us that not kissing was the only way wecould maintain the boundaries we were committed to. So we did it. And that practice of putting our commitment to God’s way before our affection for each other was really good for us, in retrospect. All of the self-discipline and daily choices were preparing us for marriage in a way I didn’t expect. Never kissing him was crazy hard, but actually easier than trying to jump off the snowball mountain mid-roll.”
“Is that why you got married while you were still in college?”
“No, not really. I’m pretty convinced we would have gotten married during college either way. I knew who I wanted to spend my life with, and I wanted to start it already. It’s hard to wait around simply because other people want that for you.”
I half laugh. Mom still refuses to do things because other people insist.
“The people we respected were on board with us getting married but not about the timing. It would have been different if they had concerns about Archie himself. Anyway, getting married that young is hard, but it’s just a different hard from waiting. We can talk about that more if it comes up.” She eyes me with an obvious question.
“Okay. A deal’s a deal,” I say. Time to spill about Levi. It’s long overdue.
Dread pulls in my gut as I feverishly type questions.
What will she think of me? What will she say? What if it’s like the first time? Do I have the courage to try this again?
It’s not my job to figure it all out. This is the next step. I just know it.
Okay, God. Here goes. Help me trust you. Make sure I only retain what’s true. Protect me from anything that isn’t from you.
Sophie’s counselor replied. She has a spot from a cancellation this afternoon.
Sharing with Levi unlocked a door for me. His response tothe truth astonished me. Like Mom’s, actually, except for some reason I always thought her opinion didn’t count, that her motherly love prevented her from seeing my fault in it all. But my heart holds a spark of hope that someone else might see my story the same way as Levi, or at least kindly—kinder than I have. Kinder than Tess did. Levi’s response made me feel lovable, like I still deserve dignity, even when I didn’t make the decisions I wish I had. Like I can fail and still have value. Like I can trust God more and surrender.
And if I have the courage to share my brokenness with him, of all people, I have the courage to share with a perfect stranger. The risk is worth the possible reward.
Cozied under two blankets for a final front porch prayer time, I turn up the heater and spot Stella on a walk with Judy. A spruce tree hides my view of the driveway and the sidewalk beyond, but just before they disappear behind it, Stella stops. Judy tugs on the leash lightly, then firmer, persuading her with a gentle voice. Not having it, Stella plops her long body down on the icy sidewalk, unwilling to move another inch.
That’s me. I’m Stella.
God’s been calling me, pulling me, coaxing me “home.” He’s showed me in a thousand ways that I don’t need to be the mastermind or to protect myself, that he’s got it. There are beautiful things waiting for me if I’ll just follow along. I’ve been so resistant! Like this basset hound, I’ve been exerting so much energy dragging my feet, avoiding the hard part. Every step was a challenge against my stubbornness. God has had to pull me by the leash the whole way here.
My chuckle turns into a laugh and then into full blown hilarity. I kick off the blankets. My socked feet chill on contact with the icy path to the driveway, but I don’t slow. Judy gapes as Icome barreling down to the sidewalk with arms flailing, and I remember to pull myself together.
