EPTThe Preacher's Daughter
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The Defining Moments of a Young Man's Life
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The Defining Moments of a Young Man's Life
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Love at First Sight
I still remember that morning. I looked up at the live oak trees and stopped to watch them sway back and forth in the wind. The shade from their dark green canopies provided welcomed relief from that balmy Arkansas summer morning. I felt the big calloused hand of my grandfather on my shoulder and knew that was his way of telling me to hurry up. Begrudgingly, I followed my grandpa and grandma inside the church, and the search for our Sunday morning pew commenced.
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The sounds of Sunday morning service in the deep south
There were few things in life that my grandma enjoyed more than bringing company to church. As we settled into our seats, a procession of elderly women came to find out who I was. One by one they took turns asking my grandmother the same question, "Who is this good looking young man you have with you?" Grandma beamed from ear to ear and proudly introduced me to each and every one of the little old ladies. I gave them my best smile and gently shook their hands while confirming what my grandmother had already said. It was a repetitive exercise, but one that I had mastered over the years of attending church with my grandparents.
The piano began to play a cheerful melody signaling to the congregation that it was time to find their seats so the service could begin. Between the verses of "I'll fly away" my grandfather leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Watch out for the preacher's daughter. She's right cute." I laughed and reminded him of the last preacher's daughter he had told me was "right cute." I'm certain that my poor old grandpa's eye sight was failing him because the last preacher's daughter was bigger around than she was tall and had all the charm of a boar hog in rut.
People were frantically filing in from all four corners of the church anxious to find their seat among the crowd before the song ended and the service began. That's when I saw her. The sunlight refracted on the stain glass windows and spilled across her auburn hair as if God himself was shining a spotlight on one of his greatest creations. She wore a modest yellow dress that was loose enough to avoid offending a hard line Baptist minister but tight enough to reveal her modest yet ample figure. My stomach dropped and my mouth went dry. I stared in awe as I watched her move through the crowd, stopping to smile and greet everyone along the way. While others moved in a hurried rush, she moved slowly with all the grace and regality of a lady who didn't belong in the backwoods of that deep south Arkansas town.
If you asked me what the Preacher's sermon was about, I couldn't have told you even if you'd offered me a million bucks. My time in the pew that Sunday morning was spent contemplating a matter much more complicated than the workings of God: How exactly was I going to approach this girl and what was I going to say. I went through the scenario frontwards and backwards rehearsing my lines. My thoughts were interrupted when I felt the heavy hand of my grandfather on my shoulder again. The preacher was in the middle of delivering the closing prayer and my head wasn't bowed. I nervously dipped my head down knowing that the moment of truth was nigh. At the sound of "A-men" the church service would be over and a defining moment in my life would be upon me.
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The preacher had a firm understanding of what the congregation of a Southern Baptist church expected. "A-men" sounded squarely at noon, and everyone began their march to the parking lot. I strategically allowed myself to get separated from my grandparents in the crowd so that I could save myself the embarrassment of introducing myself to this girl in front of them. I found her just inside the double doors leading out of the church. I sheepishly glanced in her direction while struggling with myself to overcome my flight response to the situation. The crowd of people was quickly bottle necking behind me as I stood listlessly allowing my indecision to get the best of me. I gave in to my fears and ducked out the those double doors into the heat of the day. Melancholy set in as I drug my feet through the dirt on the way to my grandparent's car.
Then, out of nowhere, a renewed wave of determination welled up in my veins. I called ahead to my grandpa, "I left something inside the church. I'll be right back." I spun around on my boot heel and confidently made my way through the oncoming crowd towards the church. She was standing right where I'd seen her last. Our eyes met for the first time, and I gave her my best Rico Suave smile. "Hello, my name is Josh. I was hoping that maybe we could get together some time, hang out, and get to know each other a bit." She smiled and lowered her head breaking eye contact and said, "Well, I'm kind of seeing someone right now." I gave her a confident and reassuring smile and replied, "That's alright, I'm not planning on asking you to marry me today. We can start out as friends if its ok with you." To this day, I've never seen a pair of more beautiful green eyes in all my life. We exchanged phone numbers and went our separate ways.
I spent most of that afternoon rambling around the yard trying to decide how long I should wait before I called her. If I call to soon, I might seem desperate. If I wait to long though, I might seem disinterested. The question was answered for me when my grandma stuck her head out the front door and informed me that I had a phone call. It was her.
I don't recall the specifics on the conversation, but I remember the overwhelming joy and excitement that came with it. She wanted to see me, before the Sunday evening church service. I did all the things that young men do when getting ready to go meet a pretty girl and hopped in my truck to make the drive over to her house.
She met me at the door with a smile and invited me inside her home. She lived with her parents still at this time in the parsonage. The house was modest and cozy. The front door opened up to the living room and revealed a reclining chair flanked by the two couches facing each other. There was a wooden entertainment center hugging the wall perpendicular to the couches. Behind the smaller couch was a large window, and behind the three seater couch was a dining room table big enough to seat twelve. She directed me to the three seater couch closest to the door, but facing the two seater where she sat.
The hours quickly passed by as we talked. The conversation was not the average "get to know you" kind of talk you would have with an average girl. There was no boasting or gossip. Instead we ushered in the darkness while sharing our ideals, beliefs, hopes, dreams, and expectations. Somewhere in the middle of all this, we moved from occupying separate couches to sharing the swing on the back porch. It was a welcomed closeness.
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![[image loading]](http://i.imgur.com/Gs0tGHj.jpg)
The view from that back porch swing
The sun had set and the full moon had replaced it in the night sky. Reluctantly, we said our goodbyes. I fancied the idea of a first kiss, but decided against it. I knew this was not the kind of girl you kissed on a first date. I was more than content to receive a warm hug and the promise of getting together again soon.
That promise was filled the next evening. I showed up giddy with excitement and pleased as a opossum eating peaches when she came running out the front door. I'd barely got out of my truck when her feet left the ground. I caught her in mid air and spun her around as we hugged each other's neck. I had known the night before that this was something special, and this embrace was confirmation in my mind that she felt the same. Our first kiss was later that night. There hasn't been a poet yet that could do it justice, and I'm not going to do it the disservice of making my own feeble attempt in telling you about it. I still remember it vividly after all this time, and that is enough.
Our summer continued on like this, but there was a looming sadness on the horizon. The week prior to that Sunday morning when I first saw her, I had enlisted in the United States Air Force. I was scheduled to ship out to basic training on October 23, 2003. Looking back, this was the first real blunder of my adult life. Each passing day we spent together brought overwhelming joy and excitement as well as a feeling of foreboding.
We spent our last night together where we spent our first. Sitting there on her living room floor, we talked about all the possibilities that would come with me being hundreds of miles away for an extended period of time. She never said that she would wait on me, and I never asked. Neither of us had any doubts at that time that anything other than our proximity to one another would change.
The last thing I remember about that night lingers on in my mind still today. We were rocking in that old porch swing enjoying the night breeze when she asked me the question, "Have you ever heard the second verse of "You are my Sunshine?" I gave her a confused look and told her that I had not. "Its actually a really sad song," she said and began to sing it to me:
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The second verse of this song is why its so special to me
So, that's how it was. Only a few short months after meeting my first love, I shipped off to a whole new world of military life.
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Casualties of Circumstance
She kept her promise to me while I was in boot camp and every Sunday, without fail, I had letters from her waiting on me. As if being called everything but a white man wasn't enough punishment in boot camp, the drill instructors wouldn't actually let you read your mail. No, instead they handed you your mail and disallowed you from from actually opening it. This always seemed especially cruel and unnecessary to me.
I sorely missed my girl back home. So much so that I defied those orders and would sneak out of my rack in the middle of the night and quietly make my way to the latrine to read her letters in the darkness. With nothing but a flashlight and the cold tile floor under my bare feet, I'd hunker down in a corner with those precious words she had wrote and recall the time we had spent together that summer, humming "You are my Sunshine."
I made it through basic training, but came out of it a different person. I don't know if it happens to all men, but going through boot camp was an exercise in brain washing for me. During those weeks, you are isolated from everyone and everything you know. You are forced to become what they make you. The experience changed me. Nonetheless, graduation day was quickly approaching.
Graduating from basic training is a big deal in the military. They put you up in your best dress uniforms and you march around in a parade for all the proud parents and loved ones to bear witness to the transformation of their sons and daughters. I was excited to learn that she would be riding with my grandparents from Arkansas down to San Antonio to see my graduation. Our time together was short and chaperoned by the all seeing eyes of my grandparents and the boot camp drill instructors, but that didn't stop me from stealing a kiss every time the corner of a building shielded us from sight. After only a few hours together, we said our goodbyes and my family headed back home.
A few days after graduation, I was sent home for the Christmas holidays. I arrived at my grandparent's house on December 23. On December 24, I pulled into her driveway. She met me at the door and we shared our first private embrace in months. After some catching up, we decided to exchange Christmas gifts. I'm not the most creative guy in the world, and I fell short in doing her justice with my gift. All I had come up with was a necklace, and looking back, I would call this a missed opportunity. My paltry gift paled in comparison to what she had prepared for me.
As I pulled the Christmas red and green wrapping paper away, the contents were revealed. Inside was a blanket. At a glance, the blanket was unassuming. The top was printed fabric picturing a log cabin by a mountain stream with a man fly fishing. The bottom was made of a brown felt like material and in between was a small amount of stuffing to make it warm. I didn't realize the preciousness of what I was holding until she explained it to me.
She explained to me, "The first Christmas my parents spent together, my mother made a blanket for my father. He still has the blanket today. I wanted to do something special for you, for our first Christmas together, so I made this blanket myself." I was completely blown away by her gift. There was a very real and personal meaning in it for her and for me. If I'd had doubts before, I felt assured now that, like me, our relationship was much more than a passing romance. I wanted to marry this girl and spend the rest of my life with her. I thought she wanted the same, and maybe she did. In that moment, maybe she did too.
January 1, 2004. I stood in an open field in the middle of the night. There was frost on the ground. The heat from my breath was illuminated by the moon light as it billowed out of my mouth and nose. I leaned over the side of my truck bed with my cell phone in one hand, talking to her. "I've been dreading this," I said. "Me too," she replied. "I don't understand what happened. I can't make sense of it. I don't want this to end, but I feel like its not working out." Silence.
"Well," I said, "I guess there's nothing to say right now. I guess I'll let you go." She answered, "Ok... I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. Please don't stop calling though, ok?" "Ok," I said.
The year saw us drift further and further apart. I continued on with my military training and eventually headed for my first duty assignment in Anchorage, Alaska. Meanwhile, she continued on with her life in College.
+ Show Spoiler +
The first time I heard this song was early on in our relationship. I'd never wanted to hold another human being so close in all my life. Today, it serves as a reminder of some of my sweetest memories and the bitter heartache that followed.
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Meeting pretty girls right before I was scheduled to leave my home state must have been a proficiency of mine because sure enough, hours before I started my drive north to Alaska, I met Andrea. Andrea worked at the local burger shop in the town where my mother lived. I met her formally for the first time as I was paying for my dinner. I briefly explained my situation in the military and how I was going to be leaving town later that night for my first duty assignment. To my surprise, she asked if she could see me before I left town.
Spring, 2005. The surge in military recruiting post 9-11 had left the Air Force over manned. To counter this, the government entered a period of "Force Shaping." They were offering enlisted men in certain career fields the opportunity to be honorably discharged from active duty service before their enlistment was completed. I was homesick in Alaska, and my love life was in full bloom. My relationship with Andrea, while long-distance, had turned into something serious. Anxious to be home again and pursue my new relationship I volunteered and was honorably discharged from active duty service.
As fate would have it, I ended up living with my grandparents again during this transition from military serviceman to civilian. The only requirement in sleeping under their roof was that I attended church with them. Almost two years to the day, I stopped to look up at those big oak trees swaying back and forth in the wind before entering the church. When I saw her she was every bit as beautiful as I had remembered, and for that brief moment it felt as if nothing had ever changed between us.
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Reconciling the Past
This was a peculiar time in my life. The distance between myself and the preacher's daughter had been erased. The one thing that, in my mind, had played a critical role in the downfall of our relationship was no longer an obstacle. But, there was another girl in my life now. One that had waited on me while I was living on the other side of the continent. Andrea loved me... She loved me every bit as much as I had loved, still loved, the auburn haired preacher's daughter. In that moment of realization I understood that what I was doing was wrong.
Rekindling my relationship with my first love was irrelevant. I was still in love with her. So much so that I was not capable of giving my whole heart to Andrea. I began to lament the idea of having to end my relationship with her. I knew it was the right thing to do, but I just couldn't bring myself to put her through the heartbreak that I had experienced. I spent the next several days wrestling with this problem in my mind.
As I lay in bed pondering the situation, I heard my phone ring. "Andrea, its after midnight. Is everything ok?" She was crying. "It's my mom, she's crazy. She said she would pay for my college, but now she says that she won't. Its to late to apply for financial aid or for residency in the dorms. I hate living here. I don't know what to do." I didn't know it at the time, but this was the second defining moment of my life.
By this time I had my own place and was making a decent living as a car salesman. I had known that Andrea's home life wasn't the greatest, and we had talked about her moving in with me in the past. Listening to her crying on the phone, helpless and vulnerable, I did what I thought would make her happy. I told her that there was no reason for her to have live her life in that environment, and she was welcome to move in with me. I would help her pay for her school, and she could stay with me until she was up on her feet. One week later, we were unpacking her things and setting up our home together, as a couple.
I still thought about the preacher's daughter daily. We would see each other at church when I visited with my grandparents, and occasionally we would call one another. But, I chose not to nurture our relationship as friends out of respect for Andrea. Andrea and I had settled nicely into our lives together, and I knew she would be devastated if she found out I was pursuing a friendship with the girl I'd been in love with.
December, 2005. Andrea was decorating the house with boughs of holly, hanging the stockings, and baking Christmas cookies in anticipation of our first holiday together as a real couple. That's when the phone rang. She answered it, and I knew by the look on her face who it was. With an icy cold stare that only a woman can give a man, she handed me the phone and said, "Its for you. Sounds like the preacher's daughter."
With both shame and excitement I said, "hello," in a hushed tone. "Hey, its Christmas and I was thinking about you. I just wanted to see how you've been doing." The tone of her voice, real or imagined, sounded different to me. My heart ached at the thought of seeing her again, to sit in that porch swing and hear her laughter. There were so many things I wanted to say to her. The sound of the oven door slamming shut jarred me back to reality. I had a decision to make. Continue the conversation, or end it abruptly.
Continuing the conversation would have opened up the floodgates of that problem I'd never confronted the night Andrea called me, crying. Ending the conversation abruptly would likely mean that I would never receive another phone call like this again from the girl I still loved. "Hey, I'm good." I said. "Listen, I really appreciate you calling, but I don't think its really appropriate for us to talk right now. It isn't fair to Andrea, and I know she doesn't like it." So, that's how it was. I'd made my decision. It would be several months before I spoke to her again.
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Second Chances
Spring had sprung. In spite of all the time that had gone by, my conscience was still eating away at me. My relationship with Andrea had been in full swing for close to two years now. Yet, I still had all of those same feelings as before. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that Andrea was head over heels in love with me. I was pretty sure I loved her too, but I couldn't reconcile my feelings for the preacher's daughter who I was certain that I was still in love with. I never wanted Andrea to experience the pain I had felt, but I also knew that continuing our relationship when my whole heart wasn't in it was far worse. I decided that it was time to come clean with Andrea. I needed to be single until I could come to grips with reality.
Feeling relieved that I had finally made my decision, I decided to give the preacher's daughter a call. I wasn't single again yet, but I was going to be so I might as well see if she had any interest in getting friendly again. I wanted to figure out once and for all if she had any feelings that went beyond friendship left for me. I told myself that if things didn't work out this time I was going to force myself to bury everything and move on with my life.
I dialed her number. "Hey, this is Josh. I know this is kind of out of the blue, but I'm in your neck of the woods and was wondering if I could stop by and see you." She agreed, and a few minutes later I pulled into her driveway. I got out and we talked casually for a short time, standing in the shade of those old oak trees in front of the church. Eventually, I lied and told her I had somewhere to be. The truth is, I was just trying to appear casual. Before I left I asked, "Do you think maybe we could get together some time? Maybe see a movie or get a bite to eat?" "Sure," she said, apprehensively. I told her I would give her a call later in the week and we'd work out a time for it, and said goodbye.
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A Defining Moment
I still remember that morning. There weren't any oak trees to offer relief from the sun's heat. The heat radiated off the asphalt, and sweat was already beading up on my forehead. I was standing in the middle of a car lot, hurriedly jotting down prices off the window stickers of a row of pick up trucks in preparation of a sale later that day. I didn't know it, but the third defining moment in my life was about to happen.
I had made my decision to break off my relationship with Andrea. I had decided what I was going to do, but I hadn't figured out how I was going to do it yet. As I rushed to finish up my work so I could return to the air conditioned oasis known as the sales office, my cell phone began to ring. "Hey Andrea, what's up?" She was crying. "I'm late," she said. Confused, I asked, "Late? What do you mean? Late for work? That's no reason to cry sweetheart. What's really bothering you?" "No! I'm late. I'm pregnant Josh. I'm pregnant! Oh my God, what am I going to do." As the gravity of what she was saying began to sink in, the world around me blurred until there was nothing recognizable around me. I had a decision to make.
I found myself sitting on a bench, cell phone still in hand, outside of the main sales building. My mind was racing through all the possibilities, but my heart already knew what the answer was. I knew in that moment that I was going to marry Andrea. My own parents had divorced when I was young, and I was not going to allow my child to grow up in a home without both her mother and father. "That's fantastic sweetheart," I said in the most enthusiastic tone I could muster. "We're going have a baby!"
We've been married now for almost seven years. I can honestly say that I feel like the luckiest man alive to have a wife who loves me so completely and so unconditionally. Our relationship today is stronger than it has ever been, and there isn't a doubt in my mind that we're going remain together for as long as we both shall live.
I never got a chance to call the preacher's daughter about that "date." I still think about her from time to time. Usually, around Christmas and anytime I find myself under the shade of a big live oak tree. I still have the blanket she made for me that Christmas, and I sometimes wonder if she regrets it. I still love her, and I don't know if that will ever change. My grandparents attended the church where her father was the preacher. I assumed that word of mouth would let her know what had become of me. I heard a couple of days ago that she recently got engaged.
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“Something about first love defies duplication. Before it, your heart is blank. Unwritten. After, the walls are left inscribed and graffitied. When it ends, no amount of scrubbing will purge the scrawled oaths and sketched images, but sooner or later, you find that there’s space for someone else, between the words and in the margins.”- Tammara Webber
