I was fourteen years old and almost finished with my freshman year of high school. I was seated at a library table with friends, but one seat was taken by a boy I’d never met. His name was Steve. He impressed me right away, and I remember asking a few questions about him. (I’m sure the most important one was, “Does he have a girlfriend?”) I got my questions answered (and he didn’t have a girlfriend), but I didn’t run into him again that year. (It was a big high school.)
I was almost fifteen, and it was the first day of my sophomore year of high school. I was nervous because some of my classes sounded awfully hard. But there was something I didn’t expect about my schedule: It matched Steve’s almost class for class. Whenever possible, I did my best to secure a seat near this intriguing young man. Before long, we became fast friends. Along with a girl named Johy, we began to call ourselves the “Three Musketeers.”
We were almost sixteen, and our junior year had begun. Our schedules matched by design, and we both wanted to sit near each other. Steve asked me to join Johy and another friend for burgers after the first football game of the season. My life changed when he held my hand under the table. Maybe we weren’t just buddies after all! We weathered good times and bad together. We walked the beach, went to dances, worked on projects, and managed to choose colleges on opposite ends of the country.
We were just twenty, and college was over. I’d never imagined how much I could miss another person! Letters filled with all our plans had flown back and forth across the miles, and finally, the day had come. We memorized our vows, and I can say them still. I wasn’t nervous. I knew Steve was the one for me, and that there could be no better way to live than married to him. He’s my best friend, and will be all of my life.
That’s our story, folks! To God be the glory! Happy Valentine’s Day!
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