I went to college because I was supposed to. And because I was supposed to find a husband. Not that I was actually told that, but the implication was there. I was supposed to grow, learn, mature ... and get my MRS degree because that's what good Christian girls did. My only problem? I was rather shy. And awkward. And the times I came out of my shell I inevitably did it the wrong way or at the wrong time. But I was nothing if not a dutiful daughter, so I battled homesickness and fear of all things new and entered Bible college two weeks after turning eighteen. I haphazardly picked out my major and my first semester classes since I wasn't planning on being there a full four years anyway. I went to the same college as my two older sisters, but that was as far as I wanted to follow in their footsteps. They both chose teaching majors. No way. I wasn't particularly fond of children (yes, I see the irony now that I'm a mother of six!) and I didn't want to even pretend that I would be teaching a roomful of them for the rest of my life. I chose a secretarial major and a home economics minor. That way I could be well trained for the pastor I would eventually marry. He would finish his college education (I, of course, wouldn't need to finish mine once I found a husband) and then we would settle into a small church. It would grow over the years and I would do pastor's wife-ly things such as play the piano, do all my husband's secretarial work and cook amazing meals.
I've always been into fiction.
There was another area where I didn't want to follow in my sisters' footsteps. They took forever to find husbands. One of them went to college a whole three years before getting married. And she was older when she started college! She turned twenty-three before she got married. For my other sister, it was even worse. She actually finished college with no prospects in sight. She didn't get married until she was twenty-five. I had no desire to dawdle around like they did. I wasn't boy-crazy, but getting married was the next thing to do in the process of growing up. I saw no reason to take my time.
I even had a mental list of attributes that I was looking for in a mate. He had to be a Christian, of course. Called to full time Christian service and he had to be tall. Yep, that's what I was looking for in a life mate. See, I'm 5'7" and I like to wear heels. I wanted someone at least 6' tall so that no matter what kind of shoes I wore, my husband would be adequately taller than me. I tell you, I had depth.
So, armed with this list of qualifications, I headed off to college and started looking. And I found him the first week of school. A friend of my sister's introduced me to a freshman from her home church in Connecticut. I looked up. And up. And up. This guy was 6'8". And he was cute. I had found my soul mate. I couldn't wait until he realized it too.
To read part 2, click here.
This post is part of a Meetings, Marriages, and Memories carnival at Musings of a Future Pastor’s Wife. For more stories of romance or to tell your own, go visit!