Providential

We have different opinions about when it began. Perhaps the easiest marker is the day when Ed finally asked me to be his girlfriend: We had wandered from park to park in Houston, Texas; had gone to see Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers play our song live; had borrowed a guitar and sat atop a hill looking out over the skyscape of America’s fourth largest city; had discussed our pasts and prepared for our futures; had kissed for the first time. That day we told each other we loved one another. Yes, that day could certainly be the beginning of love.

But it could have easily been earlier—perhaps the first time we hung out, discovering different nooks on a frigid night in Houston’s downtown. I had packed for much warmer weather, so I was layered with Ed’s clothing. We walked the streets with a common blanket draped over our shoulders to shield us from the 40 degree cold, and took shelter in the shadow of skyscrapers when the wind drilled against us too hard. To avoid the crispness of that February-becoming-March air, we paid $15 for glasses of water and a table for two at the local Hard Rock Café. We split Thai food takeout on the patio of the Symphony Hall, and I received a flower as I got off the longest three-hour plane ride of my life. Yes, that could have been the beginning of love.

Before that there were late night phone calls and early morning wake-up calls and successions of emails. There were long distant phone “dates,” when we shared a meal at our respective locations, talking on the phone and avoiding other restaurant patrons’ inquisitive stares. There were chats about our families and our dreams and our fears and our brokenness. The seedlings of love rested in each of those conversations.

And then, of course, there is the day we were set up. I was unaware of what was happening—my friend had simply (and off-handedly) warned me that I’d either love Ed or hate him. She had very intently informed Ed that he would love me. Meetings are awkward enough without the pressure of starting a relationship. Yet somehow he saw through my retuning-from-abroad-with-serious-culture-shock sensitivities, and I saw through his nearly-incapacitated-from-the-flu misery. Something clicked between us, something strong enough to span 1200 miles and weeks without face-to-face contact. Yes, love very well could have begun there.

But Ed and I both trace our beginnings to long before we ever heard of one another’s names. Providence was acting long before, a voice calling out from the deserts of our previously broken hearts. Neither of us understood what those early stirrings had been at the time. Simple moments of clarity in which we could prayerfully accept that God had a plan for each of us. And that God undeniably loved us. In Providence there is excitement, comfort, peace, and sincerity. In God’s will there is a love greater than any human emotion conceived. In the months leading up to our first meeting, both Ed and I had experienced a sort of conversion to God’s desires, a sort of preparedness that whispered into our hearts that something rested just over the horizon—something larger than either of us could dream. With hindsight we have discovered just what God’s providence could mean. It very well meant the beginnings of love.

I find comfort in the Providence displayed throughout this opus. Relationships are never easy. No matter how well we know another person, there is always going to be the unexpectedness of independence. Yet, throughout this entire process, Ed—and God—have been teaching me more about what it means to trust. Trust in God’s plan. Trust in another person. Trust in the power of love to overcome all of our unique and abounding failings. In love we encounter the best in ourselves—that spit polish luster of divine grace. In love we get acquainted with whom we most truly could be. I do not know what will become of Ed and I. Neither does he. But we both rejoice in the love we have experienced since the inklings first began. That providence that has offered us this glorious year will follow us through wherever it leads. Resting in that steadfastness makes every anxiety fade. Resting in that love makes everything make sense.