I went to a dance club in college, and even though I had as much rhythm as a flat tire, a guy talked me into dancing with him.

Bless my heart.

I thought he liked me. I’d hoped the Greek letters on his hat meant he’d infiltrated the frat system as an informant, not as an actual jerk.

I must have looked like I was being tased, because I soon realized he was laughing at me over my shoulder.

I didn’t dance again until years later at my wedding rehearsal, when I danced with Daddy to Sweet Home Alabama. Being loved frees you up to dance again.

 

 

But I didn’t think that day would ever come.

On New Year’s Eve 1999, I sat on Mama’s couch bawling that I’d never meet a nice guy to marry unless one fell right out of the sky.

I was going to be an old maid.

Mama assured me if we all survived Y2K, I’d meet someone, because she was praying for me.

Five months later on May 19, a neighbor knocked on my door insisting, You know my cousin I wanted you to meet?

He’s here.

On that day, I was so thankful for every break-up, for every disappointment and every unanswered prayer that led me to that moment.

Months after we were married, Heath took me to O’Charley’s for lunch, and guess who our waiter was….

Heath had no idea who he was, but he left him a very classy tip.

 

 

In their hearts humans make plans, but it’s the Lord who guides their steps.

~ Proverbs 16:9

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.

~ Jesus