A golf pro from Wayzata meets a teacher from North St. Paul

I used to say to Andrew that we have packed more into our 6 years together than most people do in a lifetime.  I met Andrew face-to-face in August of 2013.  We are the product of online dating.  According to Andrew, we were actually matched on EHarmony back in February of 2013.  He sent me a "wink" or a "smile", and I never responded.  I have no recollection of this event, therefore, it doesn't count against me.  In July 2013, we were matched on Christian Mingle.  At first blush, I didn't know if this was something to pursue.  Andrew was 5'9" on a good day with shoes.  I am 5' 7 1/2" flat footed.  He was a golf pro.  I had no idea what a golf pro did, but it seemed kind of...bougie to me.  I'm a teacher.  He was from Plymouth and went to Wayzata schools.  I'm from North St. Paul.  We have a giant snowman.  Kids in my school were lucky to get their parents' 1990 Chevy to drive around, let alone BMWs or Mercedes.  Me? I cruised around town in a 1986 red Ford Tempo that I shared with my parents.  When your first exposure to someone is simply their background particulars, I can actually see why I MIGHT (if it did in fact happen) not have responded to the short, bald, golf pro from Wayzata six months before.

This time, we emailed.  I still wasn't sure what a golf pro was, exactly, but he seemed nice enough.  We set a date to meet, and, the night before...Andrew cancelled.  He was going to pursue dating someone else.  This happens in the online world.  You learn quickly not to take it too personally.  I was disappointed, but, what can you do?  A couple weeks later, I accidentally clicked on his profile again when I was online.  This prompted Andrew to send me another email.  This one said, "I think I might have made a huge mistake.  Would you give me a second chance?"  I agreed.  Honestly, my thoughts at the time were, it's either going to be the longest 30 minutes of my life, or I might get a dinner out of the deal.  I picked a coffee shop that looked somewhat equidistant, and arranged the coffee exactly four hours before I had to be somewhere to give me a plausible excuse to leave.  Well, it turns out that the coffee shop I picked was in the middle of one of the roughest neighborhoods in the north Metro (whoops!) and there was road construction on the route Andrew had to take.  He was almost an hour late.  Eventually, we met face-to-face, got a cup of coffee and started to talk.  Andrew spent almost 10 minutes talking about how much he loved hazelnut coffee syrup.  Not exactly the type of conversation that keeps you on the edge of your seat.  But, eventually, we moved on from hazelnut syrup and started to talk about ourselves.

Three and a half hours later, I had to leave (that preset appointment), and I didn't want to go.  Being the cool, collected individual I am, I coyly suggested that we could do this again.  He walked me to my car (I had graduated from the Ford Tempo to a Chevy Malibu in college, but was now living the big life with a Mercury Milan), gave me a hug goodbye, and I left.  It took less than an hour for him to email me and ask me for a second date.  The only reason it took him that long was he didn't have a smart phone yet, and had to drive home to email me.  

I'll share more of our story another day.  I needed to be reminded today that God has had his hand on our relationship from the very first encounter (that I don't remember).  Today has been rough.  I couldn't go to work today.  After 4 sleepless nights, I just couldn't face the world outside my bed.  I'll try again tomorrow, but for today, my bed was as far as I got.  I've been texting and emailing people in Andrew's life who wouldn't have known about his death.  Over the last three days, I've sent an email to Norway, and contacted plumbing friends and other people we knew on our journey.  I've gotten dozens of phone calls, most of which I can't answer.  I don't know yet if a voice will come out or just tears.  I didn't cry yesterday.  It has nothing to do with moving forward in the grieving process.  I simply did not have any energy left to even cry.  Thankfully, my children have taken turns being difficult.  Yesterday was Mr. M's turn (my 4 year old), and today is Little Miss's (my 2 year old).  I get it, though.  Their world has physically stayed the same, save for Daddy not being here.  But their emotional world has been turned upside down.  And they don't know what that is, or means, or what to do with that.  I don't blame them.  I don't know what to do with that.  When I dropped Mr. M off at my parents' house this morning, I asked them, "Do I have to make any decisions today?"  For the first time since Andrew's heart stopped on November 10th, the answer was, no.  Thank you Jesus.  You knew I couldn't do that today.  Today is a bad day.  Hopefully tomorrow is better.  I'm still singing, its just a little quieter today.  I'm singing "Cornerstone"

"Christ alone, cornerstone

Weak made strong, in the Savior's love

Through the storm, he is Lord,

Lord of all."