Recognizing "Mr. Right"

I remember when my girl friends and I were about 10 and discussed "the perfect age to get married." Most of the girls decided 19 would be perfect, but I preferred 18 (I like even numbers). Besides, I'd had my husband picked out since I was 5.

Fast forward to when I was 15 . . . the guy of my dreams (who was 5 years older) met and married a girl in college. So that was the end of that.

I went to a Christian college where I half-expected to meet "Mr. Right the Second." He would be tall, mission-minded and incredibly sensitive to my feelings. He would make me feel like the princess I longed to be, though I felt more like Cinderella.

I did meet some great guys in college, and a few of them showed interest in me. One was a red-headed guy named Steve. He was nice, but I didn't feel the same way.

After college I moved to Colorado and was sure Mr. Right the Second would materialize before long. In fact, I was pretty sure I knew who he was. But he didn't seem to see the same signs from God that were so clear to me. He moved away and married someone else.

I was pretty broken-hearted and thought God had forgotten me and my dream--the one I knew He had given me--to be a bride. What was I doing wrong?

Along came two more guys named Steve (a few years apart) who each asked me out. Again, I wasn't interested. Neither fit my list of requirements for a husband.

Then I dated a guy who checked off everything on my list. He was a tall, good-looking Christian who went to church regularly, had a great singing voice, was fiscally responsible . . . But several months into the relationship, I realized something was missing. Where had my joy gone? Why did the thought of a future with this man seem utterly boring? After days of prayer and tears, I ended the relationship . . . and was back at square one.

Now what? I was over 30 and still single, with no "potentials" in sight.

Steve (in green) taught some of "our boys"
how to build a makeshift yet epic raft,
which floated downriver quite nicely!

Enter yet another Steve. He wasn't tall. He couldn't carry a tune in a dump truck. He worked a night shift over the weekends and therefore didn't attend church regularly. 
But he loved God, had a great relationship with his parents, was deeply respected by his close friends. He served others on a weekly basis, pouring into the lives of kids and teens in our community. He told great stories, made me laugh and loved adventure as much (or more) than I did. He got my attention.

Steve's dirt bike in the middle of his bachelor pad.

In May 2011, he posted this photo with the caption:

"I need a wife soon before it's too late."

Months into our deepening friendship, Steve began to relentlessly pursue me. It's a good thing I'd noticed him already, because before I could welcome his pursuit, I'd had to do some soul-searching. Steve wasn't my "ideal." He was 5 years younger than me. Not super tall. Lived in a trailer he didn't keep very clean. Enjoyed a good beer now and then. Played low-stakes poker on guys' nights. Had no desire to serve on the mission field. Wasn't overly sensitive.

But he loved God. He loved others. He loved kids. And he loved me. With those big things in place, I decided I could let go of some of my fairytale dreams and must-haves.

We gave each other snowshoes for a wedding present
and went snowshoeing on our honeymoon.
I love adventures with this man!

I'm so glad I did. Steve is the perfect height for me. He makes me laugh every day. He helps me take life as it comes and not take myself too seriously. He's taught me that it's OK to sometimes spend money for fun things and invite others into our adventures. He's shown me what it's like to not just give to worthy charities, but to give of our time to invest in those around us. He's loved me SO well, every day, and helped me see and believe the value that God places on me.

I'm thankful that my fairytale was "shattered," since my real-life love story is far better than I could have dreamed up for myself!