Our Story: Part III

Couples that Swing Together, Stay Together?
My roommate Andrea's smirk told me something was up. Our room phone rang, she answered, and now stood there smirking and said, "It's for you." A myriad of possible scenarios sped through my mind in the three steps it took to cross our dorm room, but I didn't dare hope to hear his voice on the other end of the phone.

"Hello?" I said.
"Hi, Anne? This is Nate. I was wondering, since our seasons are over, if you'd want to go golfing with a group of us this week."
"Um...sure. That'd be great. What day are you thinking?"
"Does Wednesday sound ok?"
"Uh...that works for me! Should I just meet you at the course?"
"Yeah. I'll see you there!"

Andrea was still smirking when I hung up the phone. I promptly told her it was just a group thing, but she didn't look convinced. Apparently I should have paid more attention to her because Nate's "golfing with a group of us" really meant golfing with him and another couple. He splurged on carts for the four of us, and thankfully Kara, one of my golf teammates, made sure she and I were together.

We all stood on the first tee, Nate taking confident practice swings, seemingly relaxed and ready to go, me faking confident practice swings, praying I didn't make a fool out of myself. I went to take out a tee and realized I forgot to restock my bag. Nate saw me scrounging around my disheveled pockets and offered me a handful of tees. He took out a generous amount, showing me just how together he was, and promptly dropped them all over the ground while trying to hand them to me. "Perfect...I'm not the only nervous one," I thought.

He hit his drive straight and long down the first fairway. I pulled mine into the weeds. Every shot after that I tried proving to him that I knew what I was doing. (Apparently he was doing the same thing because neither of us remember much of how the other played.)

After a good amount of flirting, we ran out of course to play and headed to our separate cars. I was driving back to campus replaying the afternoon in my mind and wondering who I could find to eat dinner with once I returned. I was 3 blocks from my parking lot when I got a call from Kara: "Anne, turn around! There's a free meal at the fire station, and we're going!"

My heart rate increased while I thought about how much this felt like a date. Golf and a meal? With another couple? I couldn't push the thought out of my mind while I stood next to him eating a hamburger on a table made out of two 1x6s held up between barrels.

Heart Flutters by the Mailboxes
Midterm break had finally arrived! I was looking forward to driving down to Kansas City to visit my brother and sister-in-law. I was hoping my hours on the road would help me sort out the every-growing amount of thoughts about Nate. My friend Lindsey and I decided to check our mail one last time before leaving town. We were chatting, caught up in the excitement of leaving town, when I stopped suddenly.

"Oh no..." I said, seeing a crisply folded loose leaf paper in my mailbox.
"What's wrong? Who's that from?"
"I don't know, but we need to leave. We just...we just need to leave..."

Lindsey smiled and wrinkled her forehead at my irrational reaction, but she hurried to follow my long strides out of the building and into her Toyota 4Runner. I looked at the folded paper, taped shut with my name neatly printed in capital letters on the front.

The protection of the car combined with Lindsey's urging finally gave me the courage to open the letter. Would it be from the person I wanted? Or would it be another note I'd have to somehow politely decline? I carefully tore the tape and held my breath...

The Note

No. He. Didn't!

I freaked out while Lindsey laughed. We deciphered what each phrase could mean before we finally both got in our cars and went on our separate ways. Northwest Iowa can be a brisk, dreary place in mid-October, but thanks to a simple piece of paper, I stayed plenty warm, smiley, and mildly distracted for my entire five-hour drive.

What I Want to Remember About 25

A month ago I turned 25, and I couldn't help but notice several of the bloggers I follow recently posted about what they wished they could tell their younger selves. They spoke of learning to deal with conflict, putting aside pride, and trusting in an infallible God. They spoke of lessons learned that I want to soak up now instead of later, but they also got me thinking.

I'm sure in a few years there will be several pieces of advice to tell the 25-year-old me, but there are also things I want to remember about now. Things that are worth stating as truth, just in case time distorts my memory.

1. You are living with no regrets.
You've said yes to a lot of opportunities, and no to several others. Your hard decisions were covered in prayer, so don't second guess yourself. You've made mistakes but you're learning. And each of your years has made you who you are. Keep embracing it.

2. You are married to a good man.
Remember when boys were just the friends you played basketball with at recess? The ones who made you feel awkwardly tall but at least talked about things you liked? Remember how you could never picture yourself with any of them? That's because God had one picked out for you that fulfilled the qualities you knew you wanted and all the ones He knew you needed. Remember your story and keep writing it.

3. God has a purpose. He has a purpose for you.
You can see Him moving pieces, teaching, revealing passions, giving places for you to serve. You may not be able to see where He's leading, but how blessed are you to know He is? He has a purpose for the good days, a purpose for the painful ones. He has a purpose. Pursue it.

Here's to a quarter century, dear friends! Let the adventure continue.

What am I forgetting? What do you want to remember about your current season of life?

Someone did tell me life was gonna be this way... (Cue the Friends Theme Song)

During the last month I’ve gotten to spend time with my man’s favorite men and their beautiful wives, my dear college friends, and my favorite people from Des Moines. I’ve watched friends get married, I’ve celebrated brides-to-be, I’ve brought boxes to friends bravely, faithfully starting a new adventure across the country, and I’ve giggled and grown spiritually with a friend I haven’t seen since December. I’ve hugged my hellos, cried too many goodbyes, and I’ve remembered once again some of the wisest counsel I’ve ever received: God brings the right people into your life at the right time, but seasons inevitably change.

I’ve seen this to be true in college and again as we transitioned into married life here. I thank God for the people with whom He surrounded us with then, and I pray that despite my many failures, I’ve been that person for others in the season they’ve needed me.

Sometimes in the busyness, I forget God made us to spur one another on in community. Sometimes in the midst of my own pain, I forget that true, deep friendship is worth being vulnerable. But sometimes, in the midst of the content silence of being known, I remember this:

“…there really is nothing like good friends, like the 

sounds of their laughter and the tones of their voices 

and the things they teach us in the quietest, smallest moments.”

Shauna Niequist in Bittersweet

Thanks, dear friends. 

No matter how many states may separate us, know you are loved.

Three strands are not easily broken. Six strands make it family.

My Fab Five...such sweet sisters!

Two of our favorites...NC doesn't know its awesome level just went through the roof!

A dear woman of faith came up to go to Women of Faith with me...
loved celebrating with her, too!

Our Story: Part II

Setting the Stage
At the end of my freshman year of college, I was nursing a bit of a wounded heart, missing friends I hadn't left yet, and looking forward to the fall when I could come back to campus. One May afternoon I was looking at my class load for the fall semester and browsing class lists to anticipate with whom I could sit/do projects/go to lunch. As I scanned names of of my future Spanish 201 classmates on the periwinkle Synapse background, my eyes lingered on one: Nate Summers.

Facebook Flirting
On June 14, 2007, my heart skipped a beat when I checked my email and saw this subject line: Nate Summers has written on your wall. What?! He had met one of my golf coaches during his summer internship and thought he'd let me know. Because that's the kind of guy he is, right? He'd tell that to anyone, right? My silly girl heart didn't quite know what to think. I tried making witty banter online without sounding like I was trying.

When his birthday came up five days later, I stared at the screen, typed, deleted, and reconsidered whether I should write anything, then retyped my message half a dozen times. I settled on the perfectly discreet but original phrase: "Happy birthday, Nate. Have a good day." 

Ok, you did it! Can he tell I stalk his page every once in a while? Was I too forward? He wrote back to me! Oh, he wrote back to everyone who told him happy birthday. Why am I thinking like this? Sometimes being a girl is kind of lame...

As the school year started, I had developed a full-blown crush on Nate and anxiously awaited our first interaction on campus. I didn't have to wait long, as I saw him during one of my first golf practices of the year. My hyped-up nerves translated into some epic golf that I still have yet to replicate.

While I was on the driving range, I noticed him walking behind me toward the chipping green. I gripped my new 3-wood with increased determination and cranked the ball. I slyly glanced back to see if Nate had seen my handiwork, and smirked when I saw him staring. That night I signed into Facebook and found the following post on my wall:

I was giddy. And in my giddiness, I once again responded in a way I thought seemed effortlessly cool:

Did you notice the lol and the wink? I told you I was clever! Needless to say, my friends called me out on our flirting. I tried to downplay it and rationalize that he was just a good encourager, but inside I was hoping against hope they were right.

Lost in Translation (aka The First Time We Were Husband & Wife)
While our time on the golf course was limited, I reveled in knowing I would see him every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 8:50 am. Spanish 201 with Professor Elsa Schmidt proved to be a practice in class unity as we tried to figure out what was going on. Nate sat behind me and one seat to my left, making sneaky, sideways glances relatively easy.

After a few weeks I noticed that he and I were conveniently finishing our daily quizzes at the same time. While he thought he was being smooth, I thought he was being cute and loved the excuse to walk to Chapel together.

Prof. Schmidt assigned a group project that required us to write and act out a script using a certain set of vocabulary. Since Nate and I sat near one another, we ended up in the same group. Our group of five met in the upper room of the library and I nervously tried to anticipate Nate's reaction to my...ahem...assertiveness during group projects. As usual I soon had control of the pencil and wrote out our script, which depicted several travelers checking into a hotel.

After we completed the writing, we went through the character list to pick parts. I hesitated in claiming a spot until the end. So did Nate. With all the cliché of a chick flick, the last two characters to be claimed were the husband and wife.

Foreshadowing is integral to a great story, right?
(We also earned an A for our project. :-)

*          *          *

Happy anniversary, my senior stud! Thanks for being my husband, for real.

Our Story: Part I

I'm a story person. I love hearing people's stories. I love hearing them in their own words, even the little ones they don't feel are worth sharing. Those are sometimes the best ones. I've wanted to write down our story for quite some time, especially after being inspired by others who've chronicled how their love came to be. So here's my attempt to bottle up the pile of little sparks that forged the first volume of Nate and Anne. It's not too dramatic. It's quite ordinary. But it's ours. And I wouldn't change a thing.

*          *          *

Spark at First Sight
Our story starts with whispers. With me overhearing these little comments about this guy named Nate, who was a good friend of one of my childhood friends. I'd hear little anecdotes of the adventures of Nate and his best friend Clint as my friend smiled and rolled her eyes at their antics (and prompting several future "Oh you're THAT Clint" moments). When I was preparing to go to college, my friend mentioned Nate would be among the many students I'd be joining on campus.

When I arrived at Northwestern, we had a few run-ins of no particular significance. He played golf, I played golf. We worked in the concession stand together one afternoon. I avoided him. He recognized my last name on the sweatshirt I was wearing in the cafeteria one day. He said hi. I blushed.

He was an upperclassman and an RA, and one of my first college friends had a crush on him. He was clearly out of my league, and the thought of being anything more than acquaintances never crossed my mind.

That is, it never crossed my mind until I was watching That 70's Show with another guy's arm around me. My eyes couldn't help but wander over to this guy walking down the hallway, a guy with a confident yet easy-going stride, a quick smile, truth-telling eyes. Oh those eyes...

At the time I would've said I was just applauding God's creation, but now I think of that night as the first time I truly saw Nate. The night I felt that first little wow moment. That first little spark...

Happy birthday, sweet man. Thanks for making me a part of your story.

Two Purple Bottles

Sometimes a simple gift is all it takes for me to feel loved by my man.

The bottle on the right will soon be traveling with Nate and me to the Dominican Republic. To follow along with our group's antics, check out our team's blog. I'll be sure to give an update when we're back. Thanks for your prayers!

Birds & Remembering

This morning I woke up to gorgeous sunshine instead of an alarm clock, so I thought I'd start my day with a long walk while Nate golfed with the guys. I tried using the quiet time to sort out of some of the big life stuff we have going on right now, but eventually my mind wondered toward Memorial Day, toward the country in which we live, toward those who are serving or have served, toward those close to me who have served.

While turning onto a tree-lined nature trail, I was frustrated by my lack of original thoughts toward Memorial Day and veterans. Though completely genuine, I feel slightly trite when I write a thank you post on the appropriate patriotic days. As I was thinking of this, I got attacked by a bird.

I'm not even kidding. A bird swooped down with the quintessential, "CAW!" and I felt talons dig into my hair. (This will, perhaps, be the last time I wear a bright pink hair tie on a walk by trees.) My heart rate went through  the roof, and I completely freaked out at any flapping of wings or shadows crossing my path from that point on.

As I calmed down, I realized that was the first physical "attack" I've ever experienced. And why is that? Because I live in a country that has defended it's freedoms since it began. Because I'm safe because others are willing to not be. Because I am blessed by others' sacrifice.

So no matter how repetitive or unoriginal my words my be, thank you, veterans. Thank you, families who have experienced the greatest sacrifice. Thank you, courageous men and women, for believing in something worth fighting for.