I won't do the cruel 5 day waiting thing, so here it is. Oh yeah, and don't forget to read part one, or you're going to be really confused.
How I Met my Husband: PART 2
I was in a pickle.
My options were: stay where I was, have two great jobs, live by my friends and hang out with the really funny guy with cool shoes OR move to a tiny town in another state, have no friends, and hike around in the horrible woods all day shocking fish. Yes, that’s right, SHOCKING FISH. Because that’s what summer crews do. Because it is vitally important to us as a species to know how many fish are in random streams. (It probably is important, but I was more into cool shoes and PARTTEEEEE-ing.)
It kind of sounds like a no brainer, right? Stay with the great jobs and friends, right? Enjoy the next 6 months and earn money, RIGHT? I love it when life works out perfectly.
Except that I knew that I needed to move away and shock fish. I knew it. The Lord couldn’t have been more clear if he had written a detailed “to do” list for me on the pavement in sidewalk chalk. (What if it rains, you ask? Well, that wouldn’t matter if the Lord used PERMANENT side walk chalk that torrents of rain couldn’t wash away. Duh? Plus, he’s God, he would make sure that I read it –multiple times- before allowing it to rain.)
Upon announcing my decision to leave all that was good and wonderful behind me, everyone thought I was insane. In fact, the only positive thing anyone had to say was that I would probably move and meet my future husband. Oh please.
Lots of people would tell me this, and lots of times I would either laugh hysterically or punch them in the jaw -depending on how many times I had heard it that day. No, I didn’t actually punch anyone. I just really felt like it. Because remember the plan: mission NOT marriage. Come on people, get it through your heads already.
So I packed up, and I moved. I may have also cried a little. Well, maybe not. But I did complain. A LOT. Not to my new host family – because they were wonderful. And hey, they just got me a job and free room and board. But I complained and moped on the inside – which probably showed on the outside and I was just too self-involved to notice that everyone else was noticing my horrible attitude. And I kept wondering, in a ‘I don’t want to question the Lord, but seriously’ sort of way, “WHY?!!! Why oh why am I here?!!”
For the whole first week of the job everyone had training. Where I slept in a tent, in the mountains. Already hating it. Luckily there was also a nearby cabin with a toilet and running water. Because a whole week without that and I’m pretty sure that I would I have hiked down the mountain, hitched a ride to civilization and then never gone back. Ever. (Good thing they had toilets, right? Because I doubt I would have actually been able to hike down that mountain without getting horribly lost and/or eaten by a bear.)
On the first day of training week I met HIM. At the time though, it was more a like, “oh, him.” I looked at him from across the campsite, under my baseball cap that was pulled down really low so that I could watch everyone with my mountain-hating disgust and no one could actually see what my face really looked like. And as I looked at ‘him’ a thought came into my head just as clear as that permanent side walk chalk:
“This is why you’re here. Meet your future husband.”
And then I laughed. Out loud. Across the campsite, away from anyone else, with my low hat and bad attitude. I’m pretty sure everyone else wondered how the crazy girl got a job away from the institution, because my sudden chortling had to have looked….strange (at least a little bit.)
And it turns out that the Lord will NOT in fact hit you with a direct bolt of lightening for laughing at personal revelation. Although I’d wager that He doesn’t appreciate it. So I wouldn’t recommend it.
So the week went on. The thought kept coming, and I kept laughing. But not wanting to pass up a good flirting opportunity, I flirted and I flirted often. And since my options were quite limited in our small group of fish shocking trainees, I mostly flirted with ‘him’.
And then the week ended and we were sent to different areas. I was turned into the office “data entry girl.” I’m thinking that my total inability in the whole forest service field showed and they needed to stick me somewhere. (Plus, the people there are all so busy hiking and stuff to learn how to type….or create programs that don’t run in DOS. Seriously, in ran in DOS – which is so old that I’m guessing a few of you won’t even know what DOS is.)
A few weeks later we started making excuses to see each other. We actually lived a good 2 ½ hour drive away from the other, but managed to spend a large amount of time together. And an even longer amount of time on the phone.
We were engaged before the summer was over. And then I had to face all those people that I theoretically punched in the jaw that ended up being right after all. It was humiliating- in a giggly, look at the rock on my finger, wow I’m such a girl, kind of way.
And that’s how I met my husband. Seven years and four kids later, I still like to remind myself WHY I ever married the guy. (Ok, only on some days, like when he comes home from work and says, “I think it smells like poop, but I don’t really want to say anything in case you made dinner….”)
And it’s a really good thing to know that the Lord has my life planned out better than I do – and that He doesn’t send bolts of lightening when I question his plans at first.
How I Met my Husband: PART 2
I was in a pickle.
My options were: stay where I was, have two great jobs, live by my friends and hang out with the really funny guy with cool shoes OR move to a tiny town in another state, have no friends, and hike around in the horrible woods all day shocking fish. Yes, that’s right, SHOCKING FISH. Because that’s what summer crews do. Because it is vitally important to us as a species to know how many fish are in random streams. (It probably is important, but I was more into cool shoes and PARTTEEEEE-ing.)
It kind of sounds like a no brainer, right? Stay with the great jobs and friends, right? Enjoy the next 6 months and earn money, RIGHT? I love it when life works out perfectly.
Except that I knew that I needed to move away and shock fish. I knew it. The Lord couldn’t have been more clear if he had written a detailed “to do” list for me on the pavement in sidewalk chalk. (What if it rains, you ask? Well, that wouldn’t matter if the Lord used PERMANENT side walk chalk that torrents of rain couldn’t wash away. Duh? Plus, he’s God, he would make sure that I read it –multiple times- before allowing it to rain.)
Upon announcing my decision to leave all that was good and wonderful behind me, everyone thought I was insane. In fact, the only positive thing anyone had to say was that I would probably move and meet my future husband. Oh please.
Lots of people would tell me this, and lots of times I would either laugh hysterically or punch them in the jaw -depending on how many times I had heard it that day. No, I didn’t actually punch anyone. I just really felt like it. Because remember the plan: mission NOT marriage. Come on people, get it through your heads already.
So I packed up, and I moved. I may have also cried a little. Well, maybe not. But I did complain. A LOT. Not to my new host family – because they were wonderful. And hey, they just got me a job and free room and board. But I complained and moped on the inside – which probably showed on the outside and I was just too self-involved to notice that everyone else was noticing my horrible attitude. And I kept wondering, in a ‘I don’t want to question the Lord, but seriously’ sort of way, “WHY?!!! Why oh why am I here?!!”
For the whole first week of the job everyone had training. Where I slept in a tent, in the mountains. Already hating it. Luckily there was also a nearby cabin with a toilet and running water. Because a whole week without that and I’m pretty sure that I would I have hiked down the mountain, hitched a ride to civilization and then never gone back. Ever. (Good thing they had toilets, right? Because I doubt I would have actually been able to hike down that mountain without getting horribly lost and/or eaten by a bear.)
On the first day of training week I met HIM. At the time though, it was more a like, “oh, him.” I looked at him from across the campsite, under my baseball cap that was pulled down really low so that I could watch everyone with my mountain-hating disgust and no one could actually see what my face really looked like. And as I looked at ‘him’ a thought came into my head just as clear as that permanent side walk chalk:
“This is why you’re here. Meet your future husband.”
And then I laughed. Out loud. Across the campsite, away from anyone else, with my low hat and bad attitude. I’m pretty sure everyone else wondered how the crazy girl got a job away from the institution, because my sudden chortling had to have looked….strange (at least a little bit.)
And it turns out that the Lord will NOT in fact hit you with a direct bolt of lightening for laughing at personal revelation. Although I’d wager that He doesn’t appreciate it. So I wouldn’t recommend it.
So the week went on. The thought kept coming, and I kept laughing. But not wanting to pass up a good flirting opportunity, I flirted and I flirted often. And since my options were quite limited in our small group of fish shocking trainees, I mostly flirted with ‘him’.
And then the week ended and we were sent to different areas. I was turned into the office “data entry girl.” I’m thinking that my total inability in the whole forest service field showed and they needed to stick me somewhere. (Plus, the people there are all so busy hiking and stuff to learn how to type….or create programs that don’t run in DOS. Seriously, in ran in DOS – which is so old that I’m guessing a few of you won’t even know what DOS is.)
A few weeks later we started making excuses to see each other. We actually lived a good 2 ½ hour drive away from the other, but managed to spend a large amount of time together. And an even longer amount of time on the phone.
We were engaged before the summer was over. And then I had to face all those people that I theoretically punched in the jaw that ended up being right after all. It was humiliating- in a giggly, look at the rock on my finger, wow I’m such a girl, kind of way.
And that’s how I met my husband. Seven years and four kids later, I still like to remind myself WHY I ever married the guy. (Ok, only on some days, like when he comes home from work and says, “I think it smells like poop, but I don’t really want to say anything in case you made dinner….”)
And it’s a really good thing to know that the Lord has my life planned out better than I do – and that He doesn’t send bolts of lightening when I question his plans at first.
Comments
;)
Love the story.
Love the....
I'm sure I will think of something else eventually, I guess I will just have to keep reading your blog until I do.
(Found you on mormon mommy.)
Hooray for mountain hating romance stories. Loved this. Really.
I love how you just guffawed at your revelation... haha.
I do love a good romance story.. Tell me you didn't share your first kiss over a mass of disorientated fish..
I can totally picture you smirking in your baseball hat. And laughing out loud like a crazy person. And it's good to know I won't be struck down anytime soon, because sometimes I think the Lord has a really crazy sense of humor.
1. I like your blog.
2. I think you're me. (4 kids 5 and under, 2 blogs: one for family and one for me to ramble and complain.)
3. I think you're funny.
Whaddya think?