My Great Love Story

I was raised by a mother who was always seeking admiration, always looking for someone to love her, to take care of her, to make her feel important. She thrived on male attention, and was miserable without it. She feared the loss of her beauty, and dreaded the day when it would fade. She was completely narcissistic and self-absorbed, and she resented her children for depriving her of the charmed life she so richly deserved.

I’m sure you’re wondering what this has to do with my love story, because so far it just sounds like a major bummer. Stay with me…

My parents divorced when I was 8. My brother and I lived with our mother, and we only saw our Dad a few times a year. My mother was detached and critical, and had little interest in parenting. Displays of love and affection were rare, and praise was non-existent. When I was younger, my mother treated me not as a child, but as a friend and confidante. When I began to blossom into a young woman, and the opposite sex started to take notice, I became her rival. She behaved as though we were in competition with each other, and she went out of her way to cut me down. She told me that I was ugly, flat-chested, gangly and pimply-faced. Once, she actually told me that her boyfriend (at the time) had said that if he passed me on the street, he wouldn’t give me a second look.

I can’t even imagine the conversation that prompted him to say this. I don’t want to know.

As you can imagine, I had very low self-esteem throughout junior high, and high school. I really believed that I was ugly and worthless, and I assumed that no boy in his right mind would ever be interested in me. However, when I was 17, I met my first husband. He was 7 years my senior, and he pursued me and flattered me with attention. I wasn’t really attracted to him, but I was lonely, and I figured that no one else would ever want me, so I’d better take what I could get. So, I made a horrible mistake…I married him. I settled.

For almost 9 years, I tolerated his alcoholism, his irresponsibility with money, his internet porn obsession. I decided to overlook the fact that he made me miserable, and I hated my life with him, because I wanted to honor my vows. I didn’t want to be just another divorce statistic – but I became one.

Thankfully, God gave me a second chance at love, and I think- no, I know- I got it right this time.

The first time I saw my husband, I was instantly drawn to him. The first time he smiled at me, I melted inside. The first time he kissed my cheek, I felt a jolt of electricity like I had only ever read about in books. We had everything in common, and he was everything I ever wanted – tall, dark, handsome, funny, kind, successful, industrious, and fiercely smart.

We spent hours talking on the phone, and we e-mailed each other several times a day. Only two weeks into our courtship, we professed our love for each other. Our first summer together was the most passionate and thrilling time of my life. We were inseparable, joined at the hip… we just could not stay away from each other. When we were together, we couldn’t get close enough. When we were apart, we thought of nothing but being together again. He made me feel so special, so important, so loved. He told me I was beautiful. ME! No one had ever said that to me before. He told me I was smart, I was funny, and there was no one like me. He said that I was perfect for him, that I was his “great love,” and he would never find someone like me again.

With those words, he began the long, slow process of healing 25 years of wounds.

Our first summer together, I lived in a small cottage in the country. Every night after supper, we walked hand-in-hand to a bridge over a little, bubbling stream. We tossed pebbles into the water, and talked about the future, and watched the sun set. It became our special place.

The following April (it was Earth Day – I always remember that), my husband spray-painted his proposal on that bridge. We’re still surprised that he never got arrested for vandalism.

I didn’t think that I would ever want to get married again, but I said yes in a heartbeat. 5 months later, we eloped on the Amtrak Southwest Chief. Here we are, saying our vows,

and eating our wedding supper in the dining car.

Here I am on the train, looking happier than I ever have in my life.

Almost 9 years later, the proposal on the bridge has faded, but our love has not. In fact, I think that we’re more in love than ever. Together, we’ve weathered many storms, but we have “great love,” and great love wins all battles.