This weekend marked 17 years since my husband and I first met. We were both in our 20’s at the time, quiet by nature and serious about our faith. He was a volunteer at his church with a boy’s club, and his friend teased him that he would never meet someone spending his time there. I was relatively new in town, but the eligible bachelors in my church never asked me out.
My work colleagues were twin sisters, and they had a cousin in the same town that they thought I should meet. After a few months of thinking about it, I agreed. A while later, I got a phone call from a man I had never met asking me to go out for supper with him. He later told me that this phone call was not as nerve wracking as it would otherwise be because he already knew I would say, “yes.”
After we got over the initial awkwardness (because introverts are not so great at “small talk”), we began to discover we had all kinds of things in common and most importantly our Christian faith. It turned out that his dad was born in the same hometown (in the Netherlands) as both of my parents had been. By Christmas time we met each others’ families. By April of the next year we got engaged. One year and 13 days after meeting on a blind date, we were married. We’ve never looked back, except to marvel at God’s plan to bring us together.