On September 1st, 2000, Colby asked me if there was any chance we would ever be more than friends.
I told him absolutely not.
I was happy to be neighbors for the rest of my life, but getting into a serious relationship was out of the question. I wasn’t ready to start dating him because I feared that would lead to marriage, and marriage… would lead to boring lives that consisted of work and PBS television every evening.
I told Colby early that late summer evening that getting into a relationship felt synonymous to being locked in a prison. I was only twenty, for heaven’s sake. I needed to see the world first, I told him. How could I possibly settle down before backpacking Europe? I wanted adventure, not confinement in a jail cell. Poor Colby…He was just asking for a date.
His response to my soliloquy was that chasing adventure in and of itself is empty and the true adventure is found in pursuing God’s purposes for your life. For seven hours we sat on a park bench through a rain storm, a sunset, and twilight. That night at 11:30 p.m., I finally consented to taking the first step on the road of our relationship, and EXACTLY one year later on September 1st we were married.
Over the last 13 months, life with it’s unexpected twists and turns has taken us to seven different European countries. The most recent was Spain. I don’t say this very often, but Colby was right.