Game of Marbles

 

JM_marbles_01

When did it start, this love story of mine? I cannot truly tell when the first marble was in play that ultimately led to Wesley and me coming together to share our happy life together. Was it the day I walked across the green summer lawn of 823 West Jefferson Street at 19 years old wearing an impossibly large bow in my hair to join my sorority with another girl, who would become my best friend and 3 years later introduce me to her studious and thoughtful co-worker who was so different from other boys I knew? Is it when I pledged my undying love to fried okra after Wesley missing the facts that admitted he was in love with me?  Is it when he wrote to his best friends that he had met me and “was smitten with the Kitten?” God only knows. But for us the marbles were in play years before we ever met face-to-face and for that I’m so grateful.

I’m not sure we can ever mark the moment that sets in motion the chain that leads us to the one that we love. “What if I had not gone to THAT bar at THAT time and never met her?” or “If I had not forgotten my umbrella and gone back, I never would have run into him.” I believe it is the mysterious hand of God that puts the wheel in motion that gently guides us onto this path or that. I might never have met Wesley if I had decided to attend another university, if he had not gone into journalism, if I had kept dating that horrid baseball player who treated me poorly instead of giving the dark-haired young man with the pretty brown eyes a chance. It is those brown eyes I see when I look at Julia and I’m blessed that this game of marbles is still in play.

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s