It didn’t take long for Jeff and me to become great friends, maybe even the best of friends.  We would sit for hours in the “student center” and talk or play games.  Which, I have to confess was me being totally disingenuous because I do not like games at all.  But, I did like this guy, so, you know, I put my best foot forward.  It was quite a shock when I confessed, after marriage, of course, that I didn’t like to play games.  To his credit, he didn’t run for the hills but he’s definitely reminded me a time or two (or more) that I misrepresented myself in this area.  I can’t argue. 

Iowa was nothing like anywhere I’d ever lived.  Well, we lived in Colorado when I was a little girl while Daddy went to Bible College to become a preacher, but I hardly remember it.  (Most of the memories I have of that time are because someone told me they happened.)   The Iowa winters were bitter and, because the school we attended had a strict dress code, I had to wear a dress.   And the guys had to wear a blazer and tie.  Every day.  Yes, every single day.  Looking back on that time in my life, I wonder why it mattered that I wore a dress to class. It wasn’t like I had a conviction about it, I was just following the rules.  But, why was it a rule?  I have my theories, and let me just say I don’t think a dress or a suit and tie makes any one more spiritual, but it definitely made me colder as I braved the snow to get to class.   You see, Jeff and I were raised in the height of purity culture and steeped in legalism. (I’m pretty sure most everybody in the Bible Belt would agree.)  We honestly thought God’s love, or at the very least his approval, depended upon whether or not you checked the boxes of good behavior; the more boxes you checked, the better standing you were in.   It wasn’t until way later in life that we began to understand that the “free gift” of grace was truly a gift, no performance necessary.    

Who knows? Perhaps the church taught it that way or maybe Jeff and I were young and immature and internalized it all wrong.  Honestly, it doesn’t matter because what does matter is that this place, this religion, brought two young, naive people together.  And, because of that, we’ve spent the better part of our lives growing and learning.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself.

It was the spring of 1991 when I went back to school, Jeff had been there a year or so and had a solid circle of friends and he sang in a group that traveled and helped with recruitment.  He was also learning to play several instruments and had an uncanny ability to read and understand music.  He was very talented and, as I’ve already told you, very nice looking.  He drove an old blue car, a Plymouth Arrow, it was a hatchback and somehow even that was attractive.  I, on the other hand, showed up with everything I owned in two suitcases and with my hair respectfully teased as high as my aerosol hairspray would hold it.  One kind of special thing about this place was you got your own room in the dorm, I loved that.  My Mom and I bought bed sheets from TG & Y and proceeded to cut them up and sew them into curtains, bed skirt and a sink skirt.  One thing about my Momma, she was industrious.  We didn’t have a lot of money, but we were wealthy in work ethic.   My room was cranberry and navy blue and I could feel my Mom’s affection every time I walked into it.  How lucky was I to have her help? I probably took it for granted at the time, but these days I appreciate all she did for me.

The spring semester went by fast and then it was summer.  Jeff traveled with the group and I remember one time he drove all night from Missouri to Florida just to see me.  I guess you could say it was going pretty well.  We started back to school in the fall and by the spring semester we were engaged.  Some might say we rushed, but we didn’t think of it that way.  We were young and in love and wanted to spend our whole lives together and that summer we declared it before the world; July of 1992 to be exact.  We married at a church in Iowa, one where Jeff had been working as a part time music director.  In my mind’s eye I can see us there, standing in front of the altar, just two kids holding hands making promises we had no idea how to keep.  There were two preachers, because we never do things the normal way, and one of them was my Dad.  I remember so well, as he talked us through our vows, how he reminded us God made Sarah for Abraham and Rebekah for Isaac, and how God had made Sandi for Jeff, his voice broke as he said this and I completely lost it.  Seriously, I cried like a baby and stammered all the way through my promises to be faithful.  You know, two things can be true, you can be thrilled to marry the man of your dreams and heartbroken to leave all that is familiar behind.  When the preacher said, “And, now I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Jeff Carlson” we walked off the stage grinning and holding hands, and, to this day, we’re still holding hands and holding on.   There were maybe a hundred people in attendance that day, we had to drive thirty minutes to the reception because the church fellowship hall wasn’t big enough for all the fuss.  We ate cake, visited with those who came and then headed on our honeymoon in a car full of kitty litter, compliments of his cousins. 

School was different as a married couple, but we made the most of it.  Those were the days of little responsibility and youthful dreams.  Jeff’s goal was to teach in public school, but after student teaching for a semester he decided his heart was more in ministry.  I was slightly devastated by this because I’d spent my WHOLE life in ministry and felt I’d done my fair share for the Gospel.  Funny to think of that now, but back then we had a few “coming to Jesus talks” about it.   

Our first year of marriage was spent in an upstairs apartment that, upon reflection, probably should have been condemned.   The stairs to the apartment were steep and in the winter you could easily have lost life and/or limb if you weren’t careful.  Good thing we were young and didn’t mind all the inconveniences.  I distinctly remember the house shaking when the washing machine was on the spin cycle, and our furniture was all second-hand.  Within the first month of our marriage I made Jeff beans and cornbread for dinner and he looked at me puzzled and wondered where the meat was?  It never occurred to this southern born and bred girl that you had to have meat at every meal; weren’t beans enough?

We lived in that run-down apartment for twelve months and then it was time to make a decision.  Jeff was graduating with a degree in music and education, and I was, well, I had my MRS degree so…I forgot to mention the summer he was traveling with the singing group, he also agreed to a paid internship at a church in Alabama where he directed the choir and worked with the youth.   They offered him a job after graduation even as I was still making my case for teaching, but, how do you argue with the Lord?  So, we packed up the few things we owned and moved to small town Alabama where we would serve as the music and youth director for the Church of the Nazarene.  We were scared to death and felt completely inadequate, and quite honestly, we weren’t much older than the youth we were to be mentoring.   It’s not the road I wanted to take, but it was the right road.  I can see that now; it’s amazing how clear hindsight can be.

We honestly didn’t know what we were going to do or how to do it, we just knew we loved the Lord and wanted more than anything to have lives that amounted to something.  As in most new marriages, we spent a lot of days fussing over silly things and growing in ways we couldn’t comprehend at the time.   We were broke and desperate for a chance, but it is worth noting that we didn’t give up.  Sometimes life can look so daunting when you can’t see a clear direction, but, as I tell my now grown kids, God is working on your behalf, hang onto that.  I KNOW that to be true because I’VE LIVED IT. 

Faith isn’t grown in the easy times, but, rather, in the hard.

This we know from experience.