How We Met
We met in Kansas City. He was visiting a church I had recently joined. We had already lived such hard lives before I ever even knew his name. When I moved to Kansas City after graduation, I truly thought that maybe marriage was simply not something God had for me. But then there was Kendal, a curly-haired, boyish man of sorrows with RBF and the biggest belly laugh you’ve ever heard. He quickly became one of my closest friends until he was the dearest friend I’d ever had. He served me, loved me, prayed for me, and even corrected me once or twice (which was only sort of unpleasant). On a regular Sunday, Kendal asked me to be his girlfriend. He assured me that he had considered me watchfully, and that he wanted to be with me. It was just a matter of me wanting to be with him. I learned later that he had already decided then that we would be married within the year.
From June to February, we met families, made friends, and learned a lot about communication (sometimes even how NOT to communicate). Kendal remained just as steady and sure in his faithful love yet still sweetly surprising.
how they asked
On a regular Tuesday night, I was serving dinner at church. He came to kiss me on the cheek before heading to service like always. The pastor preached on missions in our own community that night-being engaged where you are. At the end, my friend Jaclyn asked if we could pray privately, so I followed her to a balcony room to be alone. Kendal was already there. Honestly, I thought he was just there to pray, too. But he was there for me. I didn’t realize it until he was down on both knees (poor guy didn’t know how to posture himself). He held up a ring and told me he loved me. He said a bunch of other sweet things (that are nobody’s business) before asking if I would marry him. Through tears and the concern that I would sweat through my grey t-shirt, I said yes and chose him, too. We will be married 363 days from the day he asked me to be his, and now I always get to be.