February 13, 2009

And on the eighth day, God made Tater...Part 1

And gave her a Bear, then a Bug, and their life was good.

Today I'm participating in the SWAK carnival at We Are That Family. I've read a few of the stories so far (mostly on the blogs that I already frequent) and I've noticed a reoccurring theme. It seems like every one of these ladies were traveling along, peacefully or not, in one direction when PLOP! God stuck the perfect guy in front of their face.

My love story is no different. Except mine is completely devoid of romance, flowers, or anything of that sort. It is a when the rubber hits the road, till death do us part kind of love story. Only God could give this one a happy ending. This is how I became a Tater...

I left my safe, home schooled life at the age of 16 to go to college. Most people said I was too young but their was nothing for me to do at home. I had exhausted the local community college and it would have killed me to sit around for two years until I was "ready." Besides, I had a plan and support system of faculty and administration. I had a full ride scholarship in engineering and it seemed like everyone was bending over backwards to make sure I was comfortable and taken care of. It was a very small college and their concern was genuine. I was starting a new chapter in my life and it was going to be wonderful.

It was going to be so wonderful that I decided I wouldn't even consider having a boyfriend until my Junior year. I never had before that so what was the point in it? Keep that in mind...

My parents helped me move in to my single apartment on campus the day before I went to the freshman orientation camp. ::Side note: The three days at that camp were the best of my life. It was truly one of those life changing experiences. I wish I could go back and explain to myself how much I was going to appreciate that time.:: Anyways, the next morning I had to be at the athletic center at 9:30am to load up in the buses. Like the good little freshman that I was, I woke up extra early and trotted off to buy my books (to be "prepared", even though classes didn't start for an other week). I got back to my apartment and remembered that I needed to turn in my room assessment form at the office before I left. So off I went.

I remember being so scared to walk out my front door. I was nervous about this whole, living alone concept so everything was big and scary and not to be trusted. The thought that I was living in an apartment complex, surrounded by people who obviously knew exactly what they were doing was terrifying. I prayed that I would encounter no one, lest I had to make human contact. I walked quickly, but as I rounded the corner into the courtyard I saw someone. Not just any someone, a male someone. He wore jeans and a dark t-shirt and he had LONG HAIR. I was petrified. Long hair could only mean bad things, most likely that he was going to rape me. Imagine my horror when he fell in behind me and followed me all the way to the office. The situation grew worse when he opened the door for me. (Rapists always open doors for ladies, right?) We found the office closed, he commented about it, I muttered something under my breath and fairly ran back to the safety of my new home.

When I was growing up I always hoped I would remember the first time I met my husband. Unfortunately I do. He does too. He said I looked like I fell out of the 80's that morning and he noticed I was very nervous and didn't seem to like him.

Apparently we rode on the bus to camp together and spoke during a "round robin get to know ya". I don't remember. I do remember that once I realized on one planned to rape me, I felt strangely drawn to him. I felt like I had always known him. We talked some at camp and later, after classes started, we were hardly ever apart. The thought of a relationship never entered my head. (Not until Junior year, remember?) He was more like my brother, my best friend. We completed each other's sentences and had everything in common. This was the best time of my life. Classes were easy, I was making friends, and I had him. We used to go out at 2 in the morning and walk around the campus. Our campus has the largest bell tower this side of the Mississippi (that made me feel so hick) and it was beautiful to walk through the lights around it and talk about everything. Once, in late fall, we went out and played in the sprinklers on the green and each jumped in the decorative fountains. Talk about cold! My favorite night of all was when we stayed up all night long, facing each other at each end of the couch, just talking. We were always talking, and we didn't know it but we were always falling in love. But never like that...

I will finish later. This kind of cheating on the carnival but tell that to my screaming, hungry child...


  1. Oooh...this is good! What a great love story!

  2. I am a bit late in visiting via the SWAK carnival, but what a great post!