I am not usually one of those persons who posts mushy sentiments about their spouse.
Especially not on a holiday like Valentine’s Day.
It’s just too typical.
(Sorry, but that’s the way I am.)
But I have wanted to share the story of how I met my husband with you for a while.
I also love documenting it for my children to read someday.
I have had this blog for almost 2 years, and I have never written a post solely about him.
So I decided to give in, and this week is the perfect time for me to be all mushy and gushy about my man.
Our Love Story
Before we met…
I was a little backward when it came to dating guys.
Backward in that, I was terrified of them.
My idea of a perfect Friday or Saturday night was just hanging out with my parents at home.
I wasn’t an introvert, mind you.
I was very involved in school, a cheerleader, FCA member, and even voted “Most Popular” of my senior class.
But I never had a boyfriend. I went to a couple of dances with guys who were more like friends, but I never dated just one guy.
Dates scared me. What if he tried to kiss me or hold my hand? I just wasn’t ready for that.
And because of that, I never dated or even kissed a guy all the way through high school.
I would have been mortified to admit that at the time. I thought something was wrong with me.
But now, I am so thankful for who I was in high school. I think it saved me from a lot of heartache.
In college, I finally got my first boyfriend, and a few more after that. All of which I was friends with first, and then it turned into more.
But I never found the “one”.
I had very high standards. I was praying for a Godly man who I could trust with my heart.
And because of those standards, I spent many weekend nights alone at home. Hanging with the parental units. :)
It would have been easy to give in, lower my standards, and date just any old guy.
But I couldn’t.
I promised myself to not settle than less than God’s best for me.
So I graduated college still single.
Most of my friends were married and having babies.
I spent many nights hugging my pillow with tears in my eyes, wondering if I was destined to be alone my whole life.
In 1994, I began teaching, and my students were my life. I found so much joy in teaching, but I was still longing to find someone with which to share my life.
And then we met…
One Friday evening, after a long day of teaching, I was working out at the weight room (at the college from which I graduated). As I ran on the treadmill, I remember having a pity party for myself. I was thinking, “Wow, Traci. You are 25 years old. You are alone, working out on a Friday night, and then headed home to eat pizza with your parents. Exciting life, girl.”
After my workout, I grabbed my stuff and headed down the hallway.
That’s when I heard my name, “Traci!”
To be continued….