Many waters cannot quench Love


It’s almost seven years now since I met him – the man who changed my life in so many ways.  My first impressions of him that day when I saw him walk in with that teal shirt on (yes, I can still “see” what he was wearing) was that he seemed very nice – very polite, a gentleman.  Friendly too.

Yeah, he seemed nice enough.  After a year or knowing him, my first impressions were confirmed to be who he truly was, except that he was way more then that – way more.   It was from him that I first began to really understand the differnce between a Calvinist and and Armenist.  I don’t know that I had even heard the term Armenist before.  And about the only thing I knew about Calvinist was that we weren’t that.  Except that that wasn’t true for this man.  He agreed with some Calvinistic thoughts.

Based on the way I was raised, that should have scared me away from him – but it didn’t.  I liked him.  He was smart.  It made perfect sense to agree with the views he was agreeing with.

He had a real relationship with God.  You didn’t have to be around him long to figure that out.  He was passionate about God.  He was passionate about Grace.  He got upset when people became very works focused.  He got upset when people were outward focused – when the way you appeared mattered more then the heart.  And I liked that about him.

He didn’t like that certain dress style was required because we are supposed to be “separate from the world”.   He had a good explanation for why 2 Cor. 6:17 wasn’t talking about outward dress appearance, but a way of living thats different.  He had a lot of “new” idea’s.  He even had some crazy idea’s.  I should’ve run away.  But I didn’t.  I liked him.  I trusted him and his new idea’s.  He made me think – said things completely different from what I heard growing up in my church.

And I guess a lot of his idea’s made sense and didn’t scare me, cause I grew up in a somewhat untraditional thinking home.  Though my anscestors were conservative they left a pretty untraditional legacy.  I have a great-great-great-something-great grandfather who was known to believe theories about the earth being round, long before it was an accepted idea in conserative mennonite circles.

So maybe I trusted his new ideas, because I never really held to the traditional ones very tightly.  Whatever the reason, I did trust him and he became a pretty important friend.  I could talk to him about spiritual matters.  I could talk to him about my frustrations.  We talked alot.  We were friends.

I liked him.  I liked the way he thought.  I liked the way he walked with God.  I liked the way he was alive.

So why I was completely shocked when he asked to take our relationship to the next level, I’ll never know.  Ignorant, blind, oblivious.  Don’t know, but I was shocked.  And due to a vow I had made to myself about how/when I would date, I said I couldn’t.  So flippantly I stuck to my vow, never realizing the repurcussions it would have for me – and for him.

After a week or two of akwardly figuring out what our friendship would look like going forward, we fell into, what felt to me, like our normal friendship.

I still liked him.  I still went to him with tough questions.  We still talked about spiritual things.  We still talked alot.  We were still friends.  But confusion had begin to set in for me.

When I told my sister about that akward time (the time between the times we were friends) she said something strange – something that made no sense to me.  She said that if we were meant to be, God would work it out.  What a silly thing to say!  My vow – remember?  How could we be meant to be?  So silly of her.  I brushed it off – or tried to.  The confusion increased.

Then the day came – the day I realized that he was the one I wanted to climb mountains with.  His friendship wasn’t good enough anymore.  The vow disinigrated.

We continued to talk alot.  But we were just friends.  I continued to go to him with hard questions, but sensed him pulling back.  Was the friendship dying?  Had I started this death when my vow was more important than relationship?

More months of confusion – some grieving of what could have been.  Wondering if my hearts desire would be granted.

He went home for a week.  It was a long week.  No instant messaging, no emailing, no talking.  But then – the phone call.  It was just a friend calling a friend, but oh, how it made my day.  He had a good cancer report.  He was having a good time with his family.  He would see me soon.  He was a friend – a good friend.  But just that.

A couple bikes, a bunch of friends, and a long bike trail marked the night that changed the course of our friendship – forever.   We biked together, as friends.  We talked about our futures (or was it just mine), as friends.  He walked in my apartment later that evening.  I somehow knew what he wanted to talk about.  And this time there was no silly vow standing in the way.  This time I was more then ready to move on from this confusing akward friendship.

And so we went out to Olive Garden to begin our new level of relationship.  And we talked and talked and talked and talked.  And my food got cold long before I was full.  Words were way more important than food.  I ate spagetti noodles on my first date.  A “no-no” I’m told for first dates.  But we were friends, remember?  I could slurp noodles in front of him if neccessary.  :)

And at this level of relationship, my impressions I had of him when we were friends were confirmed.  He HAD a real relationship with God.  He WAS passionate about God.  He WAS passionate about Grace.  He got upset when people became very works focused.  He got upset when people were outward focused – when the way you appeared mattered more then the heart.  But there was more – way more.  The hellish circumstances in his life had molded him into the most Godly man I ever had known.  He was a man with incredible faith in a God who at so many times in his life, made absolutely no sense.

And that man is the man I”m still in love with today.   And we look back on our lives, on his life, on my life and so many parts of the story still don’t make sense.  But the places we are now because of those yucky parts – we wouldn’t trade it, really.  Oh, somedays when the pain of remembering and the pain of the present is too intense, I wish with all my heart I could go back and rewrite history.  But most days, I marvel at a God who is larger then life, who is writing a story for His glory.  And I’m honored to be a part of His story.



  1. Cheryl  •  Feb 20, 2011 @10:47 pm

    Lucy, that’s a beautiful story. As much as I don’t really know Duane, I think you all make a perfect match and am glad God gave you a second chance to say yes to Duane. :) Love ya, your cousin.

  2. Michele  •  Feb 21, 2011 @3:55 am

    Oh Lucy, that phrase “climb mountains with”. I remember our conversation on weekend I was down that you lived on Turner street :) It’s been going through my mind recently that I should tell you that I think Duane turned into such a great mountain climber :) So intriguing that you still “say” that phrase :)

  3. Ervina  •  Feb 21, 2011 @1:09 pm

    Lucy, this is just beautiful. Thanks for telling your story.

  4. lynnelle  •  Feb 21, 2011 @1:14 pm

    This was a fun read and brought back many memories of walks and talks with you during that confusing time. I love the way God worked everything out in spite of yourselves! Much love

  5. Lucy  •  Feb 21, 2011 @6:24 pm

    Lynnelle, I really should have included a “tribute” section to the wonderful ladies in my life who had to hear about my confusion quite often. Oh, the memories of those walks and the time Orion whistled at me out of your apartment window and then had to cover up his words with “it’s such a pain.” Come go for a walk with me again sometime. :)

  6. Lucy  •  Feb 24, 2011 @11:54 pm

    Thank you, Ervina. I enjoyed tellng it. Though hard at times, I actually am loving the story that God has given/is giving us. Would love to hear more of your story sometime.

  7. Lucy  •  Feb 24, 2011 @11:56 pm

    Oh, Michele, I wish you could climb the mountain in April with us. I hope, hope, hope that some day you can make that treck with us. Did you no I’m trying to convince mom (aka begging, bribing) to climb with us? Dad’s thinking he can handle it this year, which makes me really happy.

  8. Lucy  •  Feb 24, 2011 @11:57 pm

    Thanks you, Cheryl. Yes, so glad God gave us a second chance.

  9. Alicia  •  Feb 25, 2011 @5:08 am

    Oh my , my Lucy-Lu , I remember those days ! When we laid on your bed and TALKED about ….DUANE ! God gave you a wonderful man form….TEXAS ! It was worth the wait !
    I just smiled as I read your story, of your 1st chapter together !

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