Courtship

Nick and I have a unique story. We met in the 11th grade in French III class. I was Colette and he was Jean Paul. We became fast friends and spent many hours together. I had no idea that his feelings were more than platonic. I went on my way, being infatuated and obsessed with a couple of different guys. Right before we were to part for our senior year of college, he abruptly dropped me. My calls went unanswered and any plans we had made were ignored. Bewildered and angry, I returned to Chapel Hill as a persona non grata in search of a new touchstone. We would not exchange more than a few forced cordial words for twelve years. I remained angry for many of those years. It was an anger born of pain and ignorance. Eventually, I stopped wondering. One evening in May of 1993, the phone rang at my brother’s house (where I just happened to be living at the time) and Nick was on the line. In my excitement to catch up with my old friend, I had forgotten that I wasn’t speaking to him. He had tracked me down after all those years in what could only be explained as God’s hand moving in our lives. We began regular phone conversations and he finally revealed the real reason for our separation, his total and complete love for me which he feared revealing. He decided he could no longer be my friend, yet the potential consequences of telling me his feelings kept him silent. I hate to admit it, but he probably did the right thing. At the time, my unnatural obsession with a guy who could care less about me dictated my alliances. I believe God had great work for Nick to do, and He needed me out of the way. The maturity required of a minister’s wife danced just out of my reach. When I was ready to accept the task, God brought us together. The shock from Nick’s congregation was palpable. He had been at this church for six years and he was the beloved single pastor who they protected as their own child. “Who is this woman? Where did she come from? How long has he known her?” were some of the most obvious questions. Only a few of Nick’s closest friends knew the whole story. The truth overwhelmed me; I can only imagine the surprise to everyone else! After our first reunion, I thought I had blown it. I went to Lynchburg for the weekend. Friday afternoon we went to a church softball game. Before we left Nick’s house we had fixed drinks for ourselves because the field had no concession stand. We had to cross an open field to get to the ball game. I am walking along and I step in a hole. I fall on my knees and my drink which must have been at least 32 ounces, flies out of my hand and pours over my head. My knee is bleeding and my long curly hair is dripping with sticky Mountain Dew. I am trying to get myself together when I notice the look of horror on Nick’s face. When I fell, I exclaimed, “Oh s%*@!” When he finally regained his composure, he helps me up and we proceed to the bleachers, in silence. The rest of the weekend was uneventful. After I left, Nick told some of his friends that he was afraid I had changed too much. We continued to talk on the phone and then started to visit more often and then decided to get married. His friend asked him about his impression after that first weekend and Nick told her, “She’s my diamond in the rough.” Nick loves to tell me that when I get too rowdy. No one could have been a better match for me. We are like two sides of the same seashell, opposite, yet the same.

He is trusting and loving; I am skeptical and reticent.
He is optimistic and sunny; I am negative and moody.
He is generous and forgiving; I am frugal and suspicious.
He is laid back and meandering; I am intense and directed.
He is tactful; I am blunt.

Yet God blends our personalities in perfect balance. Together our weaknesses become strengths. Who would have guessed what could come after,
“Bonjour, je m’appelle Collette.”