“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11
There are those who believe everything just happens by chance. As a Christian, I believe very little happens by chance.
Case in point: my husband Ernie was born in Torrance California in August of 1953. I was born 33 miles away in Orange California in September of ’64. If anyone knows anything about southern California, those 33 miles has thousands of people living in them, even back in the ’60s. As you may have guessed, we never met there, but even from our childhood I’m pretty sure God was planning for us to meet someday, at the right time and in the right place.
Ernie, at 18, had his own plans. After graduating from high school, he packed up and moved 1680 miles away to Lamoni Iowa to attend Graceland University. I was 7 at the time. My plans included learning cursive writing and listening to Bobby Sherman records.
You’re probably wondering how we ever met. You have to take into account that my parents were “urban nomads” and rarely stayed in once place for very long. It probably had something to do with bill collectors. By the time I was 11, we had left five school distracts and southern California behind us, and moved to Las Vegas, Nevada. Ernie was now 22. The distance shortened to 1392 miles.
My parents got the wanderlust again when I hit 13 and we moved to South Sioux City Iowa to be near Dad’s ailing mother. One would think “oh, that would put you within a few hours of each other (259 miles to be exact)”, but this time it was Ernie who relocated: to Kansas City Missouri, 276 miles. Still quite do-able. But a wrench was thrown into God’s plan: Ernie, now 24 got married, and it wasn’t to me.
Ernie and his bride were polar opposites. He was a city boy, she was a country lass. He moved to Iowa to get as far away from his mother as possible, she missed hers and they spoke daily over the phone. He wanted to stay in the Kansas City area, she wanted to move back to Oklahoma where her family was.
When I finished up high school in ’82, my family relocated to the Kansas City area. Aha! You’re thinking. And that’s when you met! Nope. We didn’t meet up until ’89. As my family was moving into Kansas City, Ernie was leaving. In ’80, Ernie’s wife moved back in with her family, taking their infant son with her. A bizarre relationship of married-but-living-separately started. After a few years, and one more child, Ernie – in an attempt to save their marriage and be a real family again – agreed to move to Independence Kansas near the Oklahoma boarder. The idea was that his bride would be close enough to visit her family on weekends. She agreed and they bought a house. Ernie packed up their stuff in Missouri. A few months after the moving van was emptied at the Kansas house, the bride and kids went back to her parent’s home again. That was in ’82. The same year my family moved to Kansas City area. We were 139 miles apart.
My father started Seminary about this time and became an ordained minister. That’s pretty ironic, being that my parents were constantly fighting. They bounced around from church to church as one after another served Dad his walking papers. My brother and I had finally broken free from our parents and were sharing an apartment with my grandmother. I was attending community college and was on my way to becoming a graphic artist. A car accident ended my freedom though, and forced me to quit my job and move back in with my parents. We finally ended up in the small town of Longton Kansas, 31 miles from Independence.
Meanwhile, Ernie had come to realize he and his wife were never going to be a real family. They now had three kids that knew Oklahoma as their real home. The couple tried counseling, but to no avail. Ernie decided it was time to throw in the towel and file for divorce. His bride was livid! She liked how things were: her living her own life and he living his. That wasn’t good enough for him? No. She ranted. She raved. She got her family involved. They all took her side and he was no longer allowed to see his kids.
While this was happening, I started college at Pittsburg State (in Pitsburg Kansas) and was coming home on the weekends. One day Dad told me he’d filed for divorce and Mom’d gone back to Kansas City. Dad soon lost another church and I was left trying to help him pick up the pieces. One of the parishioners decided she would take Mom’s place in Dad’s life. The day I came home for summer break, she moved into the house Dad had bought in Elk City, 15 miles from Independence.
Needless to say, Dad’s girlfriend and I did not get along well. I wasn’t allowed to talk to my dad if she wasn’t included in the conversation. If I sat down, I was loafing. If I disagreed with her, I was deemed as being hateful. She was actively looking for ways to drive a wedge between Dad and I. Also, she and Dad were no longer welcome to attend the small town churches where Dad had preached, so we started going to a church in Independence. The same church Ernie was going to.
It only took a few months before Jack, the pastor of the church, stepped in.
“Why don’t you ask Ernie out?” he suggested to me. “He’s not going to ask you out, so why don’t you make the first move?”
Well, I was college kid, who felt abandoned by both her parents and alienated in my own home, so I took the plunge and asked.
After 12 years in a sham marriage, Ernie was leary of ever asking a girl out again. But he couldn’t think of a nice way to say no, so he said yes.
Two people who each desperately needed a friend during a terrible time in their lives. Friends who would shore each other up through the rough storms to come and be the anchor needed to provide stability and security.
Two people who met at the exact time and place when then needed that type of friend most.
Friends who fell in love and who are still in love 29 years later.
Chance? I think not.
“Plans to give you hope and a future.” God promised.
Yeah. That’s my God.