My friend, Melanie, stopped by last night to show me her new engagement ring that Jonathan gave her. Great guy. Beautiful ring. Happy girl.
I remember talking to her a year or so ago about the guy that she had been dating. He had a promising career, sent flowers on a weekly basis, and seemed pretty nice to me. But Melanie didn’t have the green light from God, and she had pulled the plug. Pretty gutsy for a 33-year-old girl who would love to be married. I say ‘gutsy’ because from where I’m sitting, it doesn’t look like there’s a huge surplus of attractive, godly, single guys who have a job and want to get married.
But Melanie told God that she wanted Him to write her love story.* She went about her business and waited for God to introduce her to her husband-to-be. And He did. At a funeral.
That’s seriously where she met Jonathan! There are all sorts of other relish-able details about Melanie’s story–like how she fell off some play equipment at the park last Sunday and broke her neck (literally). And how Jonathan took her to the same park to give her the ring. And how the shock of seeing him on one knee, combined with the Vicodin, elicited a blank stare from Melanie, before she ‘came to’ and said, “Oh! Yes.”
God writes great stories, doesn’t he? I’d love to hear yours.
*I love that phrase, which I’m borrowing from Leslie Ludy’s book.
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