I Wanted to Meet Her
I’d seen her once or twice before, done my homework, and learned she was a student at the Branson Hospital School of Nursing, just north of Toronto. Newly arrived in the city as a ministerial intern—and single—I wanted to meet her. But how? I knew! I would invite myself to speak for evening worship at her dorm, then run into her “accidentally.” Spoke to the dean. All clear.

Then the trip—from downtown Toronto to Willowdale in rush hour traffic. Thought I had lots of time. Almost beside myself, I sat at one intersection after the other, watching green lights turn to red and green and red again. When I finally made it to the dorm (I’d have been red-faced if that were possible), worship time had long since passed, and Celia was nowhere to be seen. Only after she became my wife did I tell her what I went through to meet her that evening.—Roy Adams.

A Mexico Bribe
While Walt and I were out to dinner one evening he proposed—then pulled out a complete itinerary for our honeymoon in Mexico City and Acapulco. He knew I wanted to visit Mexico—so how could I turn him down?

The marriage proposal wasn’t a surprise, only the trip (he was a financially struggling student). We had already gone for counseling because a number of barriers needed to be overcome. And this consultation helped us take care of most of them. At that time the counselor didn’t give us much hope for a successful marriage—our backgrounds were too different. And we did go through some ups and downs for several years, but we stayed together as we matured. I’m so glad we did.—Ella M. Rydzewski.

Walking Together Around the World
Noelene and I have walked around the world together.

Most evenings or Sunday mornings when we are both in town we go for a walk. We’ve strolled in the evening’s coolness after a hot India day, counting the number of full moons before we would see our loved ones again. We’ve splashed barefoot along the beach in Australia and the shores of Lake Michigan; walked Maryland streets, parks, and coasts. Sometimes hand in hand, sometimes saying nothing, sometimes sharing the day. It took me years to realize that she just needs me to listen as she processes her day—and I mine. More than 40 years together, and I figure, close to 25,000 miles.

And every one wonderful.—William G. Johnsson.

Caught Smooching
My wife, Bernie, and I were married for 31 years when she died from breast cancer. A few months earlier, when we were traveling, we stopped for fuel. I left a $20 bill inside at the counter, then returned to the car to pump the gas.

Bernie had stepped out of the car, and as I pumped the gas we talked, then reached over and kissed each other. When I went inside for my change, the young attendant smiled coyly and said, “I think I should charge you an extra fee today.”

“Why’s that?” She responded, “We don’t allow smooching by the gas pumps.”

“Would it make a difference if I told you that we’ve been married for 30 years?” I asked. She gasped, gave me the change, and replied, “That’s beautiful.”  It was.—Phil Follett.

Two Wives
When our family arrived in Ethiopia as missionaries, we each supplied the government with 40 passport photos. These were distributed to country-wide police stations so wherever we traveled authorities would recognize us. Later we were transferred elsewhere, so began tedious exit formalities. Our files were retrieved with their 6-year-old photos. Officials looked at me, looked at my photo, and asked my husband. “Where is your other wife?” I explained that my hair had grown, changing my appearance. An Ethiopian friend intervened and convinced the official that Pastor Sequeira had only one wife and that was me!—Jean Sequeria.

The Last Rose Guy
College dating. I got roses from five first-date guys. As nice as this was, each gifting had me wondering What did the person want? What did they mean? Why was I getting them after only a first encounter? With the last dozen, I got an answer.

After our first date, which was a disaster (he took me to a Burger King in a bad neighborhood), I got red roses in a vase. When I asked about them, he said that the roses weren’t his idea; a friend had told him they would do the trick. I told him what I thought about gift flowers and about the roses I’d gotten along the way, and asked why he thought I’d gotten them from other guys. He replied, “I don’t know, but it was probably because you are wonderful and beautiful. I got them for you because of that—and because you are the greatest.”

And nowadays I’m happy when that last rose guy—my husband—buys me flowers.—Kimberly Luste Maran.

The Exception Rather Than the Rule
“You can’t talk to guys about relationship stuff head-on,” my brother advised. “They’re like deer caught in the headlights.” But surprisingly, I learned a tremendous amount about relationship communication from my first long-term boyfriend. Whereas I was considerably tongue-tied, he would periodically address the progress of our relationship, matter-of-factly bring up issues, and patiently wait until I was able to squeeze out a few sentences. It did get easier, and I learned to appreciate being with a partner who was equally involved in the relationship. I took it for granted that that’s what serious dating was like, so in subsequent relationships, it was rather a shock to discover that I had dated the exception rather than the rule . . . but that’s another story!—Shelley Nolan.

The Dinner Did It
Someone once told me that if you’re looking for something good you mostly find it at church. That’s what happened to me when I traveled to St. Croix, Virgin Islands, in 1974 on a business trip.

On Sabbath I attended the Adventist church in Christiansted. Though I don’t remember much about the service, I do remember a cute young woman who invited me to her home for Sabbath dinner. The meal was scrumptious, to say the least, and that young woman—Denise Elizabeth Krigger—has been cooking meals for me for more than 20 years.

Of course, she has a new name now: Mrs. Denise Medley.—Carlos Medley.

A Budget Romance
When we moved to Maryland, we arrived in the middle of a heat wave, with temperature and humidity levels near triple digits.

During the day I had the luxury of going to work in an air-conditioned building. But my wife, Linda, had to wait for the air conditioning to be repaired in a hot, humid house.

After about three days of this, Linda announced one evening, “I’ve had enough. I’m going to spend the night in a hotel.”

Linda has never been fond of change, and I couldn’t blame her for being tired and frustrated about the whole idea of relocating. But she didn’t invite us along, and as I took our dogs for a walk, I received a horrible revelation: Linda had the car, she had credit cards, she had her overnight bag; what if she decided to drive back to Nevada?

As I walked back to the house I saw the light of headlights coming down the street. I wish that was Linda, I thought. The car turned into our driveway.

“I couldn’t do it,” she said when she saw me. “I’m too cheap.”

Thrift has always been a hallmark of our relationship that now spans three decades. It’s helped us finance our two kids’ entire educational experience through Adventist schools. But that night, nearly seven years ago, it kept Linda in the house—where I could keep an eye on her.—Stephen Chavez.

Swept Into His Arms
Ten days after Dan and I were married I left India for the United States. Unfortunately Dan could not accompany me, since he was a commissioned officer in the paratroop regiment in India. I parted from him not knowing if and when we would see each other again. Dan’s commandant had informed him that there was no way he would ever be released from the army.

I started a letter-writing campaign to people in the government of India. I even wrote to India’s president and prime minister, soliciting their help with Dan’s release. After several agonizing weeks of waiting I heard from Lal Bahadur Shastri, the prime minister. He said that he would see what could be done but did not promise me anything. I continued to ask for God’s help and to wait patiently. Nearly six months later I received the wonderful news that Dan had been released. What’s more, it was the first time an officer had been released during war.

My heart was overflowing with joy as I waited at the airport that Christmas to pick him up. The plane had arrived, but there was no trace of Dan anywhere. My heart sank. I kept wondering if the army had changed its mind. Just as I started to walk away from the airport I felt myself being swept into somebody’s strong arms. When I looked up, I was overjoyed to see Dan’s face. The plane had arrived much earlier, and Dan had been trying to find me!—Chitra Barnabas.

Strong as Steel
It was her poise and a sense of inner calm that caught me on that first day of camp staff orientation. “A new counselor,” I mumbled to myself, making a mental note to learn more about her, quite unaware of how Debby’s poise and her counsel would alter the next 20 years of my life.

God knew that I would need a partner strong as steel, resolute yet sensitive, in every way an equal and a companion. There is no “big idea” in my life to which she has not contributed, no sermon that she has not helped to shape, no editorial she has not gently critiqued. She has deepened my devotional life, revived my spirits on a hundred dreary evenings, and helped to build into my life some of that sense of calm and poise she still possesses in abundance. For all those things, and for the enduring gift of her steadfast love, I give thanks.—Bill Knott.

A Proposal and a Sympathy Card
“Let’s go for a ride,” Ken suggested that spring Friday night. And under the stars the most important question a young man can ask a young woman received its “Yes.”

Then my new fiancé opened the glove compartment and handed me a white envelope. I unstuck the flap and pulled out—a sympathy card!

We’ve laughed many times, remembering that event. But The Adventist Home urges, “Husbands should be careful, attentive, constant, faithful, and compassionate. They should manifest love and sympathy” (p. 125).

And through the years he has—in many special ways.—Ruth Wright.

 
The One That Fit, and the One That Didn’t
It was Christmas Eve, and the present was there. This time the box had exciting, telltale wrappings—Nordstom’s. Eagerly I opened it and withdrew not one three-piece outfit, but two. And they were identical except for size. One was the size he hoped I could wear—one was the size that fit. When I returned the too-small one the clerk was smiling. She had remembered this particular customer and his thoughtfulness. And so have I.—Myrna Tetz.