This past Sunday I was at dinner with the other newest members of my church and Melinda’s small group; the group had invited all of us over for dinner and fellowship.  It was a nice time.

I ended up on the back deck, sitting next to a woman who I’d met before; Gwen was in my Bible study at church.  I’d met her, but we hadn’t really talked very much.  We had much conversation on this evening, though.  Somehow, we got on the topic of marriage (Does this always happen with me? Am I preoccupied?).  We talked about how my parents have known one another for, like, ever.  My grandma and grandpa (well, on both sides, really) met one another when they were uber-young and have known one another for forever.  Melinda and Chris are still young, but they’ve been together since middle school or something and, barring unspeakable evils, will continue knowing one another for forever.  Missy and Mike are high school sweethearts. Anyway, as Gwen and I were talking, somehow my heart took a trip to my sleeves and my sadness that I can never have that middle school, high school, or even college sweetheart was expressed through my very loose lips–not in a sad way, of course.  This was a light conversation despite how it may sound right here, right now.  Thinking back, I must have at least sounded as though I thought that that a love story which does not begin in one of those three places (middle school, high school, college) is no sweet love story at all.  What a crazy thought.

Gwen shared her story; she met her now-husband late in her college career, after she’d gone through her rebellious stage.  She didn’t know him her whole life but now she has.  She said it this way, just for me: You get to make your own forever.

I get to make my own forever.  I think that’s pretty darn cool.  My very own forever…  Yes, definitely: pretty darn cool–especially because I know that God is in charge.