From the beginning I wanted to write our story. If you know me that does not surprise you. The day I met him I started writing notes and reminders so I could go back and put them all together. I never wanted to risk forgetting the simple things. I have a box of letters, ticket stubs, pictures and random trinkets that take me back to moments over the last nine months. I wanted to write our story, but the problem that I kept running into is our story is boring. There are no break-ups, drama, crazy fights and get-back-togethers. From the very beginning it has been simple.
We met when neither one of us were looking. I had rolled out of bed with no make up, dirty hair and mis-matched running clothes to go take photos at The Backyard, a local ministry in our city. He was down from Thomasville, Ga. and somehow found my lack of effort attractive and wanted to get to know me. Fast forward nine months, endless amounts of coffee, cooking gluten- and dairy-free meals and countless trips over the state line and here we are. Nine months from our wedding day.
He knew he was going to marry me right away. He tells people he left our first date knowing he didn’t want anyone else to have me and, in that moment, was going to fight and pursue. The first time he met my parents he told them he was going to marry their daughter (unbeknownst to me) and was just waiting for me to catch up. I was only behind him by a few weeks. I remember coming home after our first date and telling my roommate that if nothing happened with this man I would be pissed. (I do believe those were my exact words.) I had not been on too many dates before, but there was a peace that overwhelmed me that had always been missing and it was something I had always desired.
Our story is simple.
I have sat down many times trying to write it all out, even if it’s just for me, and kept coming back to that wall. “It’s just so simple.” Yet, maybe that is what people need to hear. It’s perfectly acceptable to be simple. It’s okay to meet at some random community outreach, go on one date and know you want to marry each other, never question it, get engaged nine months later and it be easy. It was a “duh.” Of course, I was going to marry Jonathan Ray Fischer, who else would I spend my life with? I have thought maybe that is what people need to hear, that our real love story is a boring one. It’s one with no crazy epiphanies, but there was clarifying moments of reassurance. One came the night he drove himself to the ER because of his kidney stones and I had to go pick him up and get him to his house because he was drugged up on pain medication. I knew in that moment that I didn’t know what I would do if anything happened to him. But that is life, people get kidney stones. It wasn’t unique or written in my cereal bowl. He didn’t come in riding a white horse, rescuing me from my depravity. Jesus did that. Jonathan came in, was proof the man I had been praying for existed, wanted me only, and was going to hold on just as tight to me as I was to him. It’s easy, fun and simple. And it works.
The day he proposed we were on a run, something that is not out of the ordinary for us. I had been anticipating the big moment and all week was reading into every word, every move and every text. Yet, on that run around the lake, I had no make up, dirty hair and mismatched clothes and, staying true to our form, it all came about simply and quickly. We were two miles in when he proposed, so I literally was a hot mess, yet again. Just like he found me. I love hearing him describe his thought process of that moment. He had the ring in his left had, waiting until no one else was around. But in that moment he got a picture of what our life was going to be like, running together. Running this race we call life shoulder to shoulder, side by side, even if I was the one to set the (slow) pace.
That is a love story. We met, we knew, we ran.