In writing an earlier post from this week, I reflected on another time God turned my garbage into gold.
There was a time I thought I had missed out on the love of my life. I was still recovering from a bad relationship when a friend, an outstanding young man in every way, hinted that he might be interested in me (only in hindsight did I see this; actually I'm still not sure). He could tell I was nowhere near ready because of the Shoebox cards I used to send out: if they can send a man to the moon, why can't they send them all? (Sigh - good ole days). But since he literally was every girl's ideal, it was only a matter of time that I came to my senses.
I was finally ready to make my move, even though I was not the kind of girl who ever in a million years would make the first move. In fact, I didn't even know what a move was - I probably would have just stared at him a lot. So on the very night that I was ready to start staring at him, he told me about a girl who had made real moves on him (the tart) and whom he had started dating over the summer. For the next two years, I waited for them to break up. They ended up marrying.
For awhile, I deeply regretted not being more like my sister, who had stalked all her objects of affections. She befriended one guy's dad just to rifle through the guy's underwear drawer.
I was busy moping and so was completely unprepared for what happened next. From nowhere came a new guy. This one hadn't been on my radar at all, and even after we started dating I wasn't sure about him. If there ever was a diamond in the rough, he was it. I still don't know what happened. He was and is of a different background, ethnicity, personality, everything. All I know is that he is my God-sent mate. It was no accident that two souls so close together missed each other by a hair and that two souls which couldn't have been farther apart ended up colliding. Only God could have pulled off something like that.
I'm frequently reminded of this, because the husband surpasses my expectations all the time. And I think back to our dating days, wondering where his wonderful qualities came from. Eventually I conclude that I never saw them, I thought he was just a normal guy. I had no idea how compatible we would be. We never discussed kids, money, or any serious life issues. We had no Dr. Phil, no pre-marital classes, no books on dating, nothing. We only had God and His future for us.
Now I can see the purpose behind it all. I'm glad the husband bloomed so late because it kept those men-stealing stalkers away. I'm glad that I was clueless to the ways of guys, that you essentially have to hit them over the head to get a message across. I'm even thankful for the loser (what was I thinking) who caused me to shield my heart just a bit too long.
And, oh yeah, I'm thankful for the Master Weaver who creates a beautiful cloth of life out of knots, tears, and scraps every single time.