Five years ago

Five years ago today, I went on a date with a boy I had become friends with. After his persistence to date me, I asked him to go to a movie with me. Little did I know it would be my last first date.

We went to Pizzeria Uno in the Fashion Valley Mall in San Diego. We split a deep-dish pepperoni, with mushrooms on half--the same toppings we still order today. He ordered a beer, non-alcoholic because neither of us were 21. He paid, he now admits, "just in case it was a date."

We walked to the theater, purchased two tickets to "Shark Tale" and walked around the theater while we waited for our movie to start. We talked about our likes and dislikes, our classes, our friends and our families. At one point, he told me he had a brother who was the same age as my younger sister, and I said it would be fun to go on a double date with them sometime. And he asked, "So, is this a date?" I laughed because, of course, it was. We walked hand in hand back to the theater, and he put his arm around me while we watched the movie. He was a perfect gentleman, and even asked if he could kiss me when the night was over. (He would tell you now, just for the record, I said he had to wait until our second date. And I would tell you now that I should have let him kiss me then.)

On our first date, I had no idea that I would spend the rest of my life with him. Compared to now, I knew so little about him. I didn't know that his favorite band is Metallica, or that he loved watches, or that he'd be so kind a gentle despite his manly exterior. I didn't know he'd graduate cum laude, or that he'd be so well-rounded, or that he'd be the best friend I'd ever had. And, it's amazing that compared to what I'm sure I'll know about him in 10 or even 20 years, I know so little now.

What I do know is that first date was the first day of the rest of my life with the man of my dreams, and when I wake up to that sweet face each morning, I know I am a blessed woman.

Happy five years, my love.

A Reflection: Traveling

Two months after we got engaged, the Lumberjack and I moved to London to study abroad for a semester. It was a life-changing experience. There's something about seeing the world outside of yourself -- outside of your friends, your family, your country, your customs--that gives a real perspective about how finite and insignificant we can be.

For four months, the Lumberjack and I lived in London. It was one of the hardest but most rewarding experiences I'd had up until that point. We had moved to a city where we knew virtually no one, except for a few classmates. There were times that were hard -- we were surrounded by the same 20 students, not only for classes, but living with them. And then there were some amazing times.

We spent evenings after dinner walking to Kensington Park, feeding the swans and marveling that we were thousands of miles away from home--together. We took weekend trips to Dublin, to Cardiff (Wales), to Paris, Venice, Lisse (Holland), and Edinburgh. We traveled to Stratford-Upon-Avon, Castle Combe, Lacock, Stonehenge and Bath (all in England). We spent afternoons exploring the tube lines and getting off whenever we wanted. We wandered Harrods, St. Paul's Cathedral, Picadilly Circus, the Embarcadero, Big Ben, Westminster, Trafalgar Square, the British Museum, The National Gallery, St. Martin-in-the-Fields, Shakespeare's Old Globe theater, and so many other places that will forever be photographed in my mind. Afternoon teas and bottles of wine in the park, along with scrumptious Hotel Chocolat treats litter our time in Europe. We saw Phantom of the Opera, Wicked, Titus Andronicus, Comedy of Errors, Cymbeline, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Taming the Shrew, The Tempest, Twelfth Night, Othello, Anthony and Cleopatra, Les Miserables, Spam-A-Lot and so many other plays and musicals. We ate the food, drank the drinks, rode the public transportation, studied the culture and absorbed every moment of the culture that we could.

Traveling can either make or break a relationship. Something about having to rely fully on the other person, to be your best and your worst and have no escape, really challenges a relationship to grow or fall apart.

Toward the end of our trip, the Lumberjack and I planned a romantic trip to Venice. That Thursday afternoon, we took the tube to Heathrow airport to catch our flight. When we arrived, we realized EasyJet, with whom we were flying, didn't leave from Heathrow. Instead, I had booked our tickets for Gatwick, an airport on the other side of London. Talk about a challenge!

After purchasing two bus tickets from Heathrow to Gatwick, we arrived in Gatwick to miss our flight by 15 minutes. The next flight out was the following morning, or we could fly to Milan that night and take a train to Venice. The Lumberjack suggested we sleep in the airport and fly out the next morning.

Hah. Those who know me well know sleeping in the airport is never an option for me. Unlike the Lumberjack, I need quiet, darkness, and a horizontal soft space to sleep. So, we booked a room for the night, woke up at 4 a.m., and took a taxi to the airport the following morning. We made it to Venice by 8 a.m., and the delay actually turned out to be a blessing because we never would have found our hotel in the dark the night before.

Hiccups like this teach you a lot about your relationship. While I was freaking out, apologizing and practically crying because I was so upset about leading us to the wrong airport, the Lumberjack was calm, reassuring and not upset at all. Instead of getting mad at me, he held my hand on the bus ride over, gave me hug while we tried to find a hotel at the last minute, and kissed me good night while we stayed in a two-star hotel with a window that wouldn't close all the way (and it was November, in London, and COLD).

In fact, most of our relationship has been like that -- balanced. Whenever one of us is stressed or freaking out about something, the other is calm, and that perfect balance is something I treasure about our relationship. There is something so wonderfully reassuring about finding someone who balances you so entirely that you know you can face anything that comes your way.

That's what travelling did for us and I wouldn't trade those four months--or those memories and experiences--for anything in the world.

A Reflection: Dating

Over Christmas of 2007, the Lumberjack and I spent five days together visiting each other's respective families. It was those five days that solidified what I wanted in my life--him.

When I was 15, I started a journal. It wasn't just any journal; it was a journal to my "future husband." I wrote in it monthly, sometimes daily, expressing the hope I had for the man I knew God would one day bring to me. Perhaps it was naive, but at 15 I knew that five or 10 years later, it could be an invaluable gift for the man I waited for. I also knew that the man I would feel comfortable with giving something so raw and unedited would be the man for me.

After the five days that the Lumberjack and I spent together, I started addressing my journal to him. He was the first man I could ever picture myself growing old with, and the only one since then. He was the only man I could ever imagine giving my journal to. He was the first and only man I ever wrote to in the journal and when he proposed to me, I gave it to him.

One week after our Christmas together, he told me he loved me. And I loved him back.

The following months flew by. Our freshman year was nearly over and we had "the talk," the one that determines where "this is going." That May, we both agreed we were serious, and we could make the three months of long distance work.

Long distance was hard. We were only an hour and a half away from each other, but we only saw each other on weekends, sometimes every other week, which was a big change from every single day. But, distance does make the heart grow fonder, and my time apart from him made me realize that I always wanted to be with him.

There were so many things that made me fall in love with the Lumberjack. He's like no one I'd ever met before. The Lumberjack has a tough, manly exterior--he loves sports, rock music, beer and UFC. But, there's a softer side to him that loves fancy dinners, shopping, sunsets on the beach and romantic comedies. He'd suggest watching the movie "Underworld" together and then sing Tim McGraw's "Barbecue Stain" song to me. One night we'd watch a fight together, and the next he'd take my out to a five-star restaurant and surprise me with Tiffany's jewelry. He is one of the most well-rounded people I've ever met, and that made me fall even more in love with him.

The second reason I fell madly in love with the Lumberjack was his 100% acceptance of who I was. I never felt like I had to put on an act for him to like me. I could be me--goofy, crazy, nerdy, studious, food-loving, emotional, passionate me--without having to worry that he wouldn't like it. The truth was, he loved me as madly as I loved him, and there was and is very little that could keep us apart.

By July, he took me engagement ring shopping. I picked out a beautiful platinum-set, octagon-shaped solitaire diamond in a cathedral setting. But I wouldn't get it from him until nearly one year later.
Above, our sophomore year of college before our engagement: one of my favorite pictures, despite my poorly chosen perm.

A Reflection: How We Met

One year ago, I was barely three weeks out of college and four days away from my wedding. It's amazing the things that have changed since then.

I loved my Lumberjack when we got married. But my love for him then was so minuscule compared to my love for him now. The comfort and support he gives me every single day is incredible, and I can't imagine spending one day of my life not married to him.

In celebrating the last amazing year of our lives, I thought it only appropriate to share how my Lumberjack and I met, just five years ago.....

It was August 24, 2004. We were freshman at Point Loma Nazarene University in San Diego. After being assigned to a small group for our Psychology 101 class, I found myself sitting on the roof to the PLNU athletic training building with 11 strangers--two senior psychology majors and 10 other freshman, who were as confused and excited as I was. We sat in a circle, cross-legged on top of the building, overlooking the athletic field and then the vast ocean that lay before us, much like the future in our simple college-freshman eyes. We went around and said our names. He was cute--fair skin, blue eyes, light brown hair--but it was far from love at first sight.

Over the next few sessions, twice a week for one hour, we got to know each other more. He loved Metallica and basketball; he grew up in San Diego with his two brothers and parents, still married after 25 years. He was "passionate," I wrote in my journal about him.

By Labor Day, he had a girlfriend. And it wasn't me.

He started dating a girl who played for the basketball team. I was less than crushed, after promising myself I wouldn't waste my time on silly boys like I did in high school. I told myself that the next time I date someone--the next time I kiss someone--it's going to mean something.

The Lumberjack and I continued to see each other in class, and we became friends. Within two weeks, his relationship with the basketball player had ended, and he was on to better things: namely, me. We started spending more time together--he'd come over to my room during open dorm to watch movies, and wasn't the least bit deterred when he learned another boy was pining after me. In fact, the Lumberjack encouraged Boy #1 to make a move, or he would, which led to a very awkward conversation when Boy #1 asked me out. I thought Boy #1 was gay. Oops.

Later that week, the Lumberjack was in my room for another open dorm night, and he asked me to dinner. Trying my best to uphold the standards that I had set for myself (and being slightly cruel, I'll admit), I said, "Sure, as friends."

Ouch.

I remember thinking that I didn't want to be his second girlfriend in a month. I wasn't at college to date; I was there to earn a degree and get the best education possible.

When he told me he didn't want to be my friend, I remember thinking he was brave. Not many men would face rejection so boldly and go back in for more.

But he did.

If you ask him now why he stayed around for more, he would tell you that after I commented to him that "making out should be a sport," (yes, I was brazen in my young age), he knew he wanted to know more about me.

And so, the Lumberjack continued to be my friend. We'd spend time together in group settings: going out to movies, eating at the Caf together or attending freshmen-themed events. He even befriended a girl on my hall whom I had grown close to--a sly move.

She came to me one night and told me that the Lumberjack had said "She doesn't know it yet, but she's going to be my girl," about the prospect of dating me.

What an ass--I thought.

But he was persistent. One night, out at a movie with some of our mutual friends, I commented that I was tired and he offered me his shoulder to sleep on.

"No, thanks," I replied.

Now, the Lumberjack lovingly refers to this as Rejection #2.

And he was ready to give up. It was one thing for me to reject him privately, but doing it in public got to him.

I don't remember much of the following week. I do remember getting pneumonia and, right before I left for home, he handed me the sweetest "Get Well" card he could find, even if I didn't deserve it.

When I returned to school the next week, he now admits he had nearly given up on me. But, that Friday, October 22, I asked him if he wanted to see a movie with me, and he accepted.

He expected me to bring a bunch of my girlfriends. I didn't.

The Lumberjack and I took the campus shuttle to the Fashion Valley mall where we split a pepperoni pizza at Chicago Uno. He paid, he admits, just in case it actually was a date. We walked around the mall, taking about our lives and our goals while we waited for our movie to start. At one point, I discovered his middle brother was the same age as my sister and I suggested we go on a double date sometime. And he asked, "So, is this a date?"

Yes, it was. Our first date of many. We continued the night by watching "Shark Tale" together, which to this day is very "us."

But the rejection wasn't over yet. At the end of the night, he asked if he could kiss me.

And I said, "No," telling him that he could kiss me on our second date.

But I didn't make him wait that long. Two days later, we went for a walk and I stopped rejecting him. In fact, I made the first move and kissed him (when I told my mom that I had made the first move, she called me a "brazen hussy"). It was the best first kiss of my life.

Four days after that, the Lumberjack asked me if we could be exclusive, and we were.

And, while his dorm mates called me his "October girlfriend," I knew I was so much more than that.
Above, Christmas at my parents' house, Dec. 2004. This was our first photo together and the first time he met my parents.