Last Month my wife Debbie wrote about why December third was an important day in our relationship history. In it she left the reader with a bit of a cliff hanger and promised more. More than one person has asked when we’d finish the story.

Today, she returns to the story, but this section is actually a prequel to the first part of the story.


I had broken up with Scott two years before this, not because I didn’t like him, but because I felt no peace about marrying him. I actually WANTED to marry Scott; I loved him. My only explanation was that God didn’t want me to, and was therefore giving me absolutely no peace! I agonized over this almost every minute of every day, especially as Thanksgiving of that year (1991) was getting closer; Scott was going to be with my whole family for Thanksgiving Day, and I didn’t want him or my family thinking we were getting married if we were not!

So I actually told Scott ahead of time that I was going to break up with him because I didn’t think God wanted me to marry him–but that he could still come for Thanksgiving. He came! It was bittersweet, as I so enjoyed being with Scott, but if things went as I had planned, it would be the last time I would ever see him. (Being “just friends” was clearly out of the question.) We broke up that evening, and my heart was broken too, but I finally had the peace that had so eluded me for more than a year.

It just so happened that the next summer, one of my best friends was marrying a good friend of Scott’s; in fact, we were both in the wedding, which was three hours away. Now we didn’t ride together, but we did end up making an emergency trip to the tuxedo shop together the morning of the wedding to remedy a mistake–we were both more free than family members. It was fun.

That Fall, I started seminary to get a degree in Christian Education. And I had to drive right past Scott’s apartment (or pretty close) every day! So every day I would imagine that just maybe he would be out jogging while I was on my way to Bethel, and I would for sure skip my first class in order to go out for breakfast! Just as friends, of course. It never happened, though.

I would walk down the halls at Bethel Seminary, making up little scenarios about the future in my mind. I thought for sure we would live out the sad story of always loving each other, but never getting married. I even imagined that on my death bed, I would ask someone to tell Scott that I still loved him. (Sigh.)

The summer of 1993 brought ANOTHER wedding; the sister of last summer’s bride and another one of Scott’s good friends. (Oh, brother!) We were both in the wedding again! But this time, since Scott was doing a good job of not asking to marry me, I agreed to ride the three hours with him. We even went out for breakfast on the way! I remember thinking, “Well, this is pretty fun, even if we can’t get married.” I thoroughly enjoyed the weekend, and gazed at Scott in his tux as much as possible.

That Fall, Scott would “just happen” to be in the lounge every Tuesday when I was done at Bethel, so we would go to the cafeteria for supper. I started to look forward to Tuesdays, and always came with things I wanted to talk about. I even told him about the guy I was kind of dating, and Scott seemed okay with it.

One day, a friend of Scott’s walked by while we were eating, and said, “Hey Scott! Did you hear about my play? You two should come!” Scott looked a bit tongue-tied, so I said, “Sure! When?” So we went that Friday. It wasn’t a date, though, since we were just friends.

So, since we were having supper together every Tuesday, it’s not hard to see how we ended up planning to go to the Festival of Christmas together. Again, it was as friends, since I had actually invited my quasi-boyfriend to my Minnesota Chorale concert the next week. But he didn’t enjoy music as much as Scott, and didn’t care about the Festival of Christmas nearly as much as Scott. After all, Scott and I had been IN it four years each.

And I was REALLY looking forward it. I couldn’t imagine anything more perfect than attending my favorite concert with my favorite person . . .

The only thing dampening my excitement was my preaching class; I had been assigned to give my sermon that Friday. Ugh!


. . . which pretty much explains where she was emotionally when the first story began – but what happened after that day?