So first of all I'll set the stage a little. Chris and I started dating at the end of March 2009. We were only dating for a mere 5 weeks before he informed me that in 3 weeks he would be moving to Vancouver for an undetermined amount of time. There's a lot more to that story, but for the sake of keeping this post to an appropriate length, I'll just say that God unmistakeably called him to Vancouver for a season of learning and ministry.
So there we were, 8 weeks into our relationship, saying goodbye, with no idea when we would see each other again. The night he left we told each other that we loved each other for the first time. Bittersweet doesn't even begin to describe it. I loved him very much already. I knew right away that what I felt for him was completely different than anything I had felt for anyone in the past. It wasn't just more, it was completely and drastically different. I knew we were to be married.
I was heartbroken and lost to say the least. I was also determined to make it work. I had heard all the warnings about being in a long distance relationship, but like many in the past have, I was certain that we would be different. We would make it. And then we would get married.
We broke up at the end of August. It was quite obvious that Chris was not able to put the amount of time or effort into the relationship that it deserved, and he graciously put me out of my misery of waiting by the phone each night, hoping he would call. I was devastated. That's an understatement. I was nearly inconsolable. As the days and weeks passed it got worse, not better. I had so much certainty that we were meant to be together and we were going to be married. I couldn't believe that we were over. I refused to believe it actually.
Through this time I continued to talk to him online, and oddly it seemed like we talked more once we were broken up then when we were together. I would rush home during my hour and a half lunch hour each day to sign into Skype and see if he was online. I didn't have a webcam (neither did he) but we chatted on there like the good old days of MSN Messenger. The more we talked, the better I felt. I began to hope that we might get back together, and hoped that he felt the same way.
Let's skip ahead to Christmas of 2009. He came home for a visit, and I spent every minute possible with him. He seemed pretty interested in spending time with me, which fed my hope. Finally, a few days before he left I gathered enough courage to tell him how I felt. I told him I thought he should know that I was still in love with him, and I was willing to wait as long as it took until he returned home to St. Albert, and we could be together again.
He didn't feel the same way.
I was pretty upset. Even a little angry. I felt like he had led me on. I asked him point blank to tell me that he wasn't going to want to pursue a relationship with me ever again. I needed that. I needed him to close the door so I could move on. He danced around his answer, apologizing and said that "I was the kind of woman you marry, and he just wasn't there"
Oh ya. That helps.
There were still a few days before he left, so we spoke once more before he left. I told him I wasn't able to be his friend any longer. We needed to stop talking online, and when and if he ever moved back, I would need some time of not seeing or speaking to him then also. After he left I wrote him what I call my "Closure Letter" where I said all the things I was too chicken to say in person. I ended it by telling him that I had been to nervous to close the door on us because I was waiting for him to turn around and see the open door. It was too painful though, leaving it open like that, so I was closing the door. I told him that I deserved a man that would open the door himself. I deserved a man that would kick down the door.
Fast forward to March 2010. He moves home. All the progress I felt I had made in getting over him in the past few months went down the drain the instant I saw him. The first day I saw him he walked into the church office to see one of our friends whom I work with. I didn't expect to see him that day. He walked past my desk, flashing me a sheepish smile and not saying a word. I immediately burst into tears. (Thankfully no one saw me run out of the office) I locked myself in the bathroom and proceeded to sob. How on earth was I going to get through this? I still loved him and now here he was back in my life. We would see each other every Sunday morning at church, every Tuesday night at bible study and every Wednesday night at Youth. Greeeaat.
The next couple weeks are a blur. A lot happened. In an attempt to make this very long story a little shorter, I'll just say that it became apparent that he seemed interested. Within a week he had asked me out on a date. I said yes- I trusted that he knew what he put me through before (I had given him a detailed list in the "Closure Letter") and he wouldn't be pursuing me unless he was serious. I was excited to see what would happen, but determined to let him steer the ship. I told him he needed to open the door, and I was sticking to that.
March 8, 2010. We went to a movie. No funny business. I sat with my hand on my knee the whole time just in case he wanted to hold it, but no dice. That's ok. Not embarrassing at all. When we came back home we were standing outside his house talking. And that's when he kicked down the door.
"I'm sorry. I love you. Please forgive me"
(He might argue about his exact wording. Apparently he had rehearsed it over and over in his head)
And the rest is history folks. By April 23rd after a time of prayer and fasting and seeking the Lord's will for our lives we had decided we would be wed. You know, that's a pretty good story too.... next time ;)
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