Inspired to (almost) Meet You

My husband and I love to ask our married friends how they met. Many people have fun and inspiring tales, and we love hearing them. I mean, love stories are  inspirational, right? Whether your story includes a blind date, friendship turned to love, antagonists becoming sweethearts, or a rollicking romcom (thinking of you, Lorie and Justin!), everyone’s story is special. 

Close only counts in playing horseshoes

Our story is one of multiple near misses. When Richard and I started sharing our life experiences with each other, we realized that we had been in the same place at the same time in three different states covering 2,000 miles over the course of 9 years without meeting, and there was one more missed opportunity before we finally met. 

Nebraska

Even though we’re both native Californians, Richard went to the same small two-year Christian college in Nebraska that I did. But he started after I had graduated with my Associate’s degree and had moved on to finish up at a Christian college in Arkansas. We are the same age and graduated high school the same year, but he had tried out a couple of California colleges (including Pepperdine University) before coming out to the Midwest. 

I had lived in that Nebraska town from my sophomore year in high school through my sophomore year in college, as my Dad taught at the college. But my parents moved back to California after my freshman year, so I lived in the dorm my last year. 

Home Sweet Home

Fun fact: my parents moved away that year, but after I got my bachelor’s degree in Arkansas I came “home” to California, to a town and a house I’d never lived in. My sister and I both lived at home for a short while before moving into an apartment of our own in a nearby town. After I lived there for 5 years, two on my own after my sister got married, my parents moved to Southern California. 

I was teaching by then, getting established in my career, and was preparing to buy a house. So of course I did not go with them. But reading this you may realize that I never actually left home. Home left me. Twice. And that second time I got the message and didn’t follow them. 😝 Twenty years, a husband, and two kids later, my parents moved back and lived 3 doors down from us for a few years. So I wasn’t completely abandoned, you’ll be glad to know. 😁🥰

But back to Richard. My sister and my brother both lived in that Nebraska town, and I came back for Homecoming. Richard was then a student at the college, but to my knowledge I didn’t meet him. He had met my brother, who worked in the Business Office. And we knew tons of the same people, as I had been at school with many of them the year before. But that was our first near miss. 

Texas

That same school year I went with friends from Arkansas to a mission workshop at a Christian college in Texas. There were students and sponsors from many Christian colleges there. The girls stayed with coeds in their dorms, but at least some of the boys slept on the floor in their new gym. I don’t actually know why they didn’t stay in the boy’s dorm…maybe there were too many guys. It was a small college. When Richard and I compared notes after we got married, we realized that we were both at that workshop—he had traveled from college in Nebraska (and slept on the gym floor). That was our second near miss, but we obviously shared common interests. 

Pepperdine

Fast forward a few years. I was an interpreter for a Deaf family at church (see how that came about here), and the church sent me to Pepperdine Malibu for the National Deaf Christian Workshop.  Interpreters, hard of hearing, and Deaf Christians converged on the University from across the United States. My parents dropped me off and continued south to visit my sister in Irvine. 

• 

The Workshop

I found where registration was and walked into a room full of people. It was very noisy, but no one was speaking. I couldn’t distinguish any words, and virtually everyone was signing, including the people at the registration table. The excitement was palpable as friends greeted friends, signing excitedly. Suddenly I couldn’t remember how to sign ANYTHING. I nearly turned tail and ran out of there.

I had thought I was doing okay in my interpreting (in my small church as the only interpreter) until I entered that room full of people fully communicating in sign. I developed an immediate case of imposter syndrome. What was I doing there?

Help!

I couldn’t understand any signs—it made the saying “it’s all Greek to me,” take on a whole new meaning. I realized immediately that my own sign ability was woefully lacking. I went into a full-blown panic. My ride was long gone and not due back for 3 days (it seems like cell phones have been around forever, but it would be 5 more years before the first cell phone was released on the market, so I couldn’t just call them as they drove away).

Somehow I got myself registered. I think someone took pity on me and spoke words out loud. I may or may not have been on the verge of tears. They may even have been rolling down my cheeks. They gave me my room key for one of the dorm rooms and I went and unpacked. 

The Plan

I had worked out a plan. I would go to the university bookstore and buy some books and snacks, and just spend as much time in my room as I could. I would definitely not mingle, as I was convinced I couldn’t communicate with anyone. 

Was that you?

I went to the bookstore, and a very handsome gentleman checked me out. By that I mean he took my money and gave me my purchases. I think I told him what I was planning and how out of place I felt. He was very nice, but I was focused on just surviving the next three days. Neither of us is 100% sure, but we think there’s a good chance that Richard was the one who waited on me that day. He was working as a supervisor in the Pepperdine bookstore and did work the registers during the workshop. But apparently neither of us made a strong enough impression to recognize each other in the future. Near miss number three (can it still be called that if we didn’t actually “miss” meeting?)

Katie to the rescue

Back in the dorm room, my life was about to be turned upside down by a little old Deaf lady named Katie. She bustled in, all 4’11” of her, and very laboriously (because as the scripture says, I was “slow to understand”) informed me that she was my roommate. She pretty much adopted me, and there was no way to convince her I would just be staying in the room. It was dinner time, and she grabbed my hand and dragged me down the hill and across campus to the dining hall, where I ate with her and her friends from all over. I was most fascinated with one of her friends who had only one arm. I learned that you can communicate in sign just fine with one hand (while also eating!), thank you very much. But I was having trouble signing even though I have two hands!

I was ashamed that I did not sign and understand my new friends’ language any better than I did. But they were amazingly loving and patient and welcomed me with open arms. They turned that workshop into an awesome experience. My signing ability grew by leaps and bounds—through the classes and lectures, yes, but mostly through my immersion with these wonderful Christians. 

More importantly, I gained a much better knowledge of and appreciation for the Deaf community. I will always cherish my weekend with Katie and her friends. She literally held me by the hand most of the weekend. What a gem!

And then it happened…

So how did Richard and I finally meet? About three years later, in 1980, I spent Spring Break with my sister and her family, who had moved to Thousand Oaks. There was a Young (single) Professionals group at church, and my sister invited them to come over and play games after church on that first Sunday.  I was in hog’s heaven! Since I’d been out of college I had only met a handful of single Christians near my age. There were 9 or 10 who came over that night, and they were all great. One of the guys accidentally left his wallet, and my sister invited him to a rematch game when he came by to pick up his wallet. The date was set for Thursday. 

On Wednesday night I met one more single at church. He had been moving furniture for one of the girls in the group on Sunday, so missed our impromptu game night. But after church the whole gang went out for pizza and I rode with this guy (okay, it was Richard. You probably already figured that out) and the guy who left his wallet. Richard sat across from me at the Pizza Parlor and I regaled my end of the table with the fascinating tale of my fairly recent jaw surgery and subsequent 8 weeks with my jaws wired shut, because I was terribly excited to finally be able to open my mouth wide enough to eat pizza (it takes awhile for the muscles to work again). 

It’s very clear to me that Richard was meant for me. After all those near misses, this man was smitten with the girl relentlessly talking all about her jaw surgery (I’m still embarrassed about that. I would have been bored to tears). 🙄

Say what?

He walked me to the door when they brought me back to my sister’s house, and when he said something like “It was nice meeting you,” it was a mental jolt. I felt like I’d known him much longer than that. (Maybe my subconscious did remember him from the bookstore!😂)

It turns out that Richard now worked under my brother-in-law in the computer department at Pepperdine. We shared later that he on his end and I on my end were trying to figure out how to get him to come with his buddy the next night, but neither of us was quite bold enough to make it happen. It would be a few months before we saw each other again. 

But it was pretty close to love at first (second?) sight, and we spent a lot of time thinking about each other in the intervening months. Certainly we both walked away from that first evening with stars in our eyes. 🤩 And the rest, as they say, is history. 😍

I’d love to hear your story in the comments below! It’s one of my favorite things!

And if you’d like to get an email when I post, you can sign up right here! I occasionally send freebies, too!