Last week I had the honor of being featured at Leigh Kramer’s blog, Hopeful Leigh. She published Josh’s and my love story in her This Is How We Met series.
I wanted to share it with you too. It’s a great story, one about how love sneaks up on us when we’re minding our own business. Or trying to.
I never thought this would be my story before it was. I wonder if you can relate. So without further ado, here’s our tale. From my perspective, of course. 🙂
It was October 2006, the year I walked everywhere. The year I didn’t have a car.
I left my downtown office late that night, and by then it was dark. I had to pass a dark corner or two as I wound my way through the autumn streets, passed the low–income high-rise building, on my way to the coffeeshop in the bar district.
I was alone, and I felt it. I walked briskly as the darkness and the nighttime chill called for it. And then I heard footsteps behind me. I couldn’t tell how close, but they were close enough. I turned around to see a man, but I couldn’t make out his face. It was too dark. He was maybe 20 steps behind me.
I walked faster. And it felt like he did too. I felt more alone, but I wasn’t.
Then I looked up. In the light of the post office building sat something familiar. My friend’s car. And my friend was inside. My friend was a guy, which made me feel a little safer. I nearly ran to the door of his car and jumped in, maybe without asking.
It felt like a portal, whisking me suddenly from danger. He drove me the almost-mile to the coffeeshop where I planned to meet my friend, who would drive me the rest of the way across town to my apartment.
As I burst into the warmth and light of the coffeeshop, I felt like I’d narrowly escaped a disaster. My friend, Michelle, sat at a round table with another friend, Josh, and I gushed the harrowing tale to her, hoping she could absorb all my fear and relief. Josh didn’t say anything.
A few minutes later, we left.
I guess that was the first time I met him, but I hardly remember it. But anyway, Josh says we first met that night. He tells me I launched right into my story of near-death, and didn’t pay any attention to him.
I’m not surprised. It sounds shallow, and it was: I knew he wasn’t my type.
Two months later, Josh hosted an event of 24-hour prayer and worship at a local church. My church’s worship team took a two-hour set. I met him again there. He was intense, quiet, squinted eyes that seemed to take everything seriously. So not my type.
I ran into him again in January at the same coffee shop. He sat at the same round table, this time with several young gentlemen. Josh with his narrowed eyes, books stacked up, talked theology with whoever would listen.
They asked me if I’d heard of an author they were discussing. I hadn’t. I escaped to another table.
In February 2007, Michelle invited me to a prayer and worship night. Josh was there again.
I sang my heart out that first night, and it felt so natural to be there with these people. I felt like I found home. And there was this weird thing, this chemistry with Josh that I couldn’t explain. Because he was so silent and contemplative. I knew he was not my type at all.
Do they end up together? It’s nail-biter. Finish the story at Leigh’s blog.