Our 14 Year Love Story

We have been married for six months, and this so delights me that I've elected to tell an awesome story. 

Every time I see this picture I die from happiness..just a little.

I LOVE how excited my baby brother is here.

I know, I know. I'm proving my status as a newlywed just by announcing this, but I really am excited about it. We were engaged for one day short of six months, so a year ago, we weren't even engaged. Stephen was planning on driving 500 miles to propose to me, but I had no idea what was coming.

And I mean no make up, bad hair and ugly sweats no idea.

I thought I'd commemorate our 'six months' by sharing our love story. Not our proposal story but our l.o.v.e. story.

This epic tale of romance and laughter started many, many years ago. Fourteen, nearly fifteen years ago. It was our mothers' faults. They met at a homeschool co/op and being the outgoing, vivacious ladies they are, they immediately bonded.

Stephen's mom, an awesome hostess and people-lover did the "drop on over any time" invite that people say but don't mean. She actually did mean it, but she didn't expect that invite to come to fruition,

My mom, being the people-lover and fan of visiting that she is, did drop by one fateful day, and leading the quintet of ducklings behind her was seven year old me.

My earliest memories of Stephen are this:

He had really dark hair.

He liked to hit people.

He pretended to speak Spanish, even though he couldn't. I found that clever.

His earliest memories of me:
Um....one of the many (who really knows the number) Manthei kids.

I know, I know, so much promise.

For the next ten years, Stephen and I pretty much ignored each other. Aside from that one day he proposed, and I agreed for fear of being an old maid. (We were nine.)

We grew into teenagers, and Stephen was a shy, geeky boy with teenager skin, who was dealing with father's illness, and I was a homeschool girl with freckles and curly hair, who didn't want to be homeschooled and was obsessed with having crushes on guys who didn't know my name.

Again, so much promise.

The year we turned sixteen my dad died (suddenly) and his dad recovered (wonderfully).

The second semester of our junior year of high school I transferred to Stephen's high school. Our grade had five students in it. We spoke once at school during the semester. Our first teenage conversation was actually on the phone, as Stephen's mom had called him to ask what supplies I'd need for math class and handed the phone to me.

Note cards and three ring binders.

Promising.

The end of that semester we were assigned to work together for one class period on a quasi-project. One of our classmates, J.,  remarked that we sounded like an old married couple.

She was one of my bridesmaids.

Senior year. We started talking due to Physics class and the two minute walk from a classroom to our pseudo-lockers. One day Stephen missed our daily walk and I realized I missed his company.

I then decided he had a crush on me. 

Because that makes sense. ;)

A few weeks into the school year, our school to a camping trip called Spiritual Emphasis Week. On the drive up, I decided to switch my crush from some random guy to Stephen.

However, despite because my deep thought on whom to *crush on*, I'd forgotten to pack warm clothes, and my borrowed sleeping bag was quite thin. Stephen overheard me complaining to my brother that I had been absolutely freezing the first night, so he loaned me one of the extra sleeping bags he had brought. Yep, he was a boy scout.

(Literally, my husband was a boy scout as a kid, and now he's in the military. He is always so prepared, and I am never even remotely ready.)

Crush confirmed!

However, despite the obvious progress in our relationship and all the healthy guideposts *so much sarcasm present*, my Stephen crush would have been quickly replaced were it not for an unfortunate (actually, super awesome) incident on the ride home.

A car broke down in a smoking fury.

In order to cram stinky high schoolers and stressed chaperons into fewer seats than planned, our principal assigned us seats and firmly ordered us not to leave them. Stephen, myself, one of my future bridesmaids, and one of Stephen's future ushers [in the wedding] were packed into a "four seater" row in the back of a twelve passenger van...in that order. I was delighted to have a chance to actually talk to my crush, and M., my awesome friend, knowing my pathetic crushing status, kept the guy next to her from talking too much to Stephen. (M., I adore you for that.)

After three hours of chatting and bonding, I had decided that Stephen was my most successful crush ever, and to continue crushing on him for a while. Plus, I kinda liked him at that point. (Yep, to the 17 year old female, crushes and likes are two different entities.)

As for Stephen, he had decided that I was more than just a total cutie, that I was bright, interesting, and I liked to listen to him. That was the day he started *liking* me.

That was also the day I discovered that the Air Force was comprised of more than just pilots.


Six weeks later he asked me to dance with him at a "hoedown"--and I knew something was up.

Square dancing means things are serious in our community.

A month later, we had an awkward, "hypothetical" but wonderful conversation where we revealed our mutual "liking" of each other.

Fast forward through a year of high school drama--Christian school style--we officially started dating five days after high school graduation. Stephen wanted to ask me in person, but being impossibly impatient, nosy, and bossy person that I am, I made him tell me on Facebook IM.  The next day he came over to my house and hung out with my family. My six year old sister sat in his lap, my three year old brother sat on his head, and my mom started a sentence with "when you get married".

He didn't run away.


We got married a month short of four years after that initial conversation in the van, and fourteen years after we met. Ours is a small town love, small church, small school love story. But it is also a story with God's master hand directing it. He brought us together, orchestrating cataclysmic and minor events to arrange our paths crossing.

When God writes your love story, the beginning, journey, and ending isn't boring. God doesn't write in cliches.

This turned to....

The dude we cut out of this pic, yeah, he was in the wedding, too.

This :)

All because two people fell in love 


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