{A Love Story Part II}


.ExternalClass .ecxhmmessage P {padding:0px;} .ExternalClass body.ecxhmmessage {font-size:10pt;font-family:Tahoma;} ** you can read the beginning of how I met my husband on my post from 4/8/11
 
 
After that fateful meeting in the courtyard, I didn’t run into Scott again before I headed off to the Philippines for a mission trip.  While I was busy teaching a class full of Aeta children, ranging in ages from 6-13, who did not speak English, he was back in SLO praying for me.
 
During this time, he attended a camp with the High School group from our church.  He was, and still is, a sponsor for the group. They love him.  I think it is his easy-going nature. Or his muscles. Or his beard.  Or the fact that he carries a pocket-knife wherever he goes.  My former roommate, the one who had attempted to hook me up with him before, also attended this camp.  She told him that he should meet her friend.  She listed my qualities (sweet friend that she is) and reflected on how I needed a “nice guy” for once.  However, she neglected to mention my name.
 
Scott, still thinking about me, was skeptical.  He said he was already interested in someone and he felt frustrated that girls always go for the “not so nice guys”.  Finally, he realized that Katie was describing me.  A lightblub turned on, his countenance brightened, the clouds parted and the angels began to sing a Hallelujah chorus.  It is the same girl, he thought.  Score!
 
Back in the Philippines I was riding in Jeepmees, eating a lot of magnos,attempting to teach over the sound of monsoon rains, avoiding mosquito bites, and falling in love with 100 kids.  I was completely unaware that the Lord was setting me up with my future husband back in SLO.
 
I returned to the states, only to head off for a week long trip through Oregon and Washington for a cousin’s wedding.  Then various holiday’s sent me north to visit my family.  It was now September.  The June meeting in the courtyard was only a distant memory and my mangled knee a pale scar. 
 
Finally, a lunch date was made.  Katie, ever the match-maker, set it up.  His friends and our friends were going to go to lunch one Sunday after church.  I was nervous.  Sometimes, I can be incredibly shy. Really, I promise.  In High School, I got out of giving a speech in front on the class once by crying to the teacher.  Real tears.  See. Shy.
 
The weekend of the lunch date arrived and my parents happened to be in town to help my brother and sister-in-law move.  After various e-mails spouting the glorious attributes of SLO I had triumphantly convinced them to migrate to SLO rather than Wyoming.  Why it was even a difficult decision baffles me to this day. 
 
I told my mom, “I don’t want to ditch you guys.  I can cancel lunch.”  Perfect.  Now I can avoid this potentially awkward lunch.
 
“No!” she shouted vehemently. “You have to go!”  Mothers want to see their daughters married.  
 
I obeyed.
 
Scott’s friends, however, did not.  His friend Chelsea stuck by his side.  I would expect nothing less from her.  She is a gem.  A gem whose wedding I was in a year later and whose baby I held a year after that.  Thanks Chelsea.  I owe ya.
 
The lunch progressed to volleyball that afternoon with my family at the beach.  Scott did not realize it was my family.  He had no clue he was playing on a team with my dad and brothers.  No clue that he was high-fiving his future-in-laws. 
 
Beach volleyball was great. He was nice, fun, and a little flirtatous, but I still wasn’t sold.  After the game, we migrated to towels and relaxed in the sun.  Having realized that he was surrounded by my family, Scott began a loooooong conversation with my dad.  I figured he wanted to talk to me, so I tried to make myself available.  I separated myself from the crowd.  I walked to the water.  I skimboarded with my brother. I sat back on the towels.  Nothing deterred him from talking with my dad.
 
He must not be interested, I thought, slightyly irritated.
 
Scott’s thoughts were totally different.  He was most definitely interested.  He had discovered that my dad works on cars as a hobby.  An autobody man himself, Scott praised the Lord thinking, I might actually have a chance if she is accustomed to her dad working on cars.  When he learned that I drove an old 66 mustang that I had rebuilt with my dad, he almost passed out from shock.  What luck!  A girl who would understand his love for cars.  A girl who knew the difference between a wratchet and a wrench, a flathead and a phillip’s?  A girl who would smile sweetly when he said it would take him an hour to fix the car and would internally add on 2 – 3 more hours to prevent herself from being dissappointed when he didn’t show up as promised after one hour.  A girl who would know to pause her conversation when a loud car drove by?  This was definitely a match made in heaven.
 
unfortunately, I knew not that all of these thoughts were in his head.  I only knew that he wouldn’t talk to me and that he left without talking to me alone that day, or asking for my number.  Phooey.  Forget him, I thought. 
 
It’s a good thing I didn’t know he would be my hubby one day.  If I had, I would have been REALLY mad.  You see, I’m not a very patient person.  And patience would definitely come in handy.
 
 . . .

 




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