Here’s an old photo post originally written right before Valentine’s Day 2007. It was missing its photo—many of the old Blogger posts are—so I’ve uploaded it again and I’m reposting everything for this Valentine’s Day.
This picture of my husband and me was taken about four months after we started dating. By this time I knew that we’d get married, but I wouldn’t have admitted it to you. I was only 18, after all, and just starting my first year of Bible school.
He was 23 and ready to settle down. He’d asked God to send him someone and the next day I started work at the truck stop where he was already working. He thought I was cute; then he found out I was a pastor’s daughter and that was all the confirmation he needed. He was wise not to tell me this until much later because I’d have sent him packing.
I married him in the end because he was a worthy Scrabble opponent. When you meet your match at Scrabble, it is foolish to let him go.
We played Scrabble for blood, no mercy. My strength was inventing words and convincing him they were real by making up bogus but plausible definitions. His talent was using all seven of his letters at once on a triple word score. In one game, he did that three times in a row. How could I come back after that?
That last winter we played 22 games and each won 11. That last winter was when I learned that sometimes you must let your perfect Scrabble match go.