My birthday in mid-February marked the beginning of the roller-coaster of love. By the end of the month FringeMan, in his casual and laid-back way, dragged me into a jewelry store to determine which shape diamond I would want if at any time in the near future he may be in the market for buying diamonds.
I stood at the jewelry case looking in at little rocks throwing prisms of light in every direction. While there sparkles captivated my being, my hands began to sweat and my heart beat out the rhythm of a tribal chant. I felt as if I were about to be thrown in the pot of boiling water and eaten as soup. I panicked.
I didn’t question my love for FringeMan, but I did question acting on my love. I was just twenty-two and I hadn’t been looking for a man or marriage. I knew from our first date that FringeMan was too determined. He was a hunter from the beginning and I was his prey.
I bolted from the store and into the parking lot, filling my lungs with large gasps of cool winter air. Sensing my panic, FringeMan gave me some space. Space for my mind to wonder in a million directions. Every bad long-term scenario played through my head in those few parking lot minutes. I wanted my marriage to be the forever-after kind, the once in a life-time kind, the till death do us part kind and I didn’t want to wish death sooner than necessary.
I didn’t want to make a mistake.
The only real reason I could think of not to consider a future with FringeMan was based on our different eating styles. You see, I was and am a carnivore. I eat meat with a side of potatoes. Everything else is negligible. FringeMan operated on the premise that vegetables were not only necessary for health, but were vital to life. A marriage between us could never work.
So I turned my tragically love torn gaze toward FringeMan and exclaimed with open arms for all the world to hear, “We can never get married. I don’t eat my vegetables!”
This coming Thursday is my anniversary. Fifteen years. FIFTEEN YEARS! Unbelievable. Some of you are saying “No sweat, that’s piddly-squat.” I am saying “Holy giant chocolate-milk producing cow! It’s fifteen years.”
I was scared to say “I do.” I remember the fear, but I remember the day God showed me this verse. It seemed like it was written just for me.
There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. I John 4:18
The other day I stumbled on the Mercy Ink blog and I was browsing around, reading this and that, when I found this printable. I knew I needed to buy a new ink cartridge and get it printed. I already had the frame sitting on the shelf in my hallway. It had a cute piece of scrapbook paper in it, masquerading as art. Now it has this Bible verse reminding me that it was worth taking a chance on love. There is no fear in love.
If you want one for yourself (she has others), head on over to Mercy Ink.
Thanks Mercy Ink for the sweet reminder.
Now, don’t everyone go wishing me a Happy Anniversary just yet. You know I am going to post about this another three time. At least. After all, it is my Crystal Light Anniversary!