Read this for back-story.

I had been walking around in a clumsy prayer high, listening to God in the falling of an acorn. I could lapse into long spiritual metaphor simply by hearing my alarm clock. I was giddy, and I didn’t need cigarettes or anything else – not a cute toosh, no night-long blitzes, not a man. 

I had joined a club (Ju Go Ju) – the christian school equivalent to a sorority. I couldn’t believe it either. They made me wear a bow in my hair, but the girls were nice. We’re at the Student Union, and everyone flocked like gulls on fresh french bread to some tall, shiny-haired guy. I was interested to see what all the cuckawing was about, and I normally would  have been too cool to bend my neck, but alas, I had to get all the Ju Go Ju Beau’s to sign some sheet of paper, and I heard this one’s a beau.

Seth was cheery and had on a worn Polo shirt. He had a firm handshake and was confident. He did not seem mysterious or at all like he would ponder endlessly in dark corners.  I stood. He walked straight to me, and this was our conversation:

Hi. My name is Seth.

Oh. Hi. I’m Amber. 

Where are you from?

Alabama.

Are you an Alabama fan or an Auburn fan?

Uh. I don’t care. I don’t watch football.

Okay. Well, nice to meet you.

Yeah. You too.

It certainly wasn’t romantic – hardly anything to note. I picked up my things and scooted to the other side of the room to study. As I read through notes, I was drawn to watch him. I couldn’t stop. The more I looked (and I tried not to) and the more I prayed was the more I developed a full-on crush. It happened within seconds that God gave me the news, and I thought, yeah, it would be crazy if he is the one I’m to marry.

Back then, though, was when I had first been born into that believing heart. I felt encased and protected. I was secure. I told the Lord that He could pair us if He wanted, and then I stood back –

except for this one night before church when I wondered if it was the same place Seth would worship. I spiffed up as if Seth were to be there, and when I arrived and found my seat, I was guilty. The congregation sang, and I realized I was going to church for a man. I was sorry. I talked to my invisible daddy, and He was so sweet, so I sang to Him.

And behind me started a voice, one unique and beautiful voice. Without thinking, I looked over my shoulder. Seth was standing there praising – unconcerned with me – and, let me tell you, he was strong on handsome. 

We talked after service. He left for a week, and when he returned (Oct. 25, his birthday), he came straight to my dorm and called me downstairs. I ran down the hall in my torn jeans and socks. We had thirty-five minutes before curfew, and we took it. We took every spare minute either of us had. I knew.

Over Thanksgiving break he bought my ring, and over Christmas break he proposed. I had known him for two months, but I would have said Yes after two weeks. 

During this time, I laughed uncontrollably even while alone.  We were every cliche and everything new –  all trust and rest and wide-open love, revised specifically and intimately –  on behalf of eternity.