It was pretty much the last week before the summer at the end of the first year of my degree when I met the love of my life. I’m not sure whether love at first sight is the right description, but I certainly noticed her. Couldn’t take my eyes, or my mind, off of her in fact. After dancing around the issue a bit, eventually the stars aligned and we started going out. But that’s a story for another day.
A few
months after we started going out, I was at a small group gathering connected
with our church (shout out to Glasgow Vineyard) where we were praying for each
other, and a guy I barely knew told me he felt like God had given him a vision
to share with me. The short version was
that it was a picture of me, as a wee boy, looking after a fragile flower, and
asking God for help because I had no idea how to look after it. The message, he told me, was that God would
help me. I pulled out what is a
time-tested and well honed “smile and nod” reserved for these moments where
someone has stepped out in faith in a well-intentioned manner but ultimately it
sounds like nonsense. “Thank you”, I
whispered, encouragingly.
Some months
later Roxy’s Dad died. Those were hard
days of tears and prayers and talking and sitting in silence, feeling the
weight of it all. Out for dinner one
night as she talked, tears in her eyes, I prayed silently: “help me, I feel
like I’m just a kid and I have no idea how to look after her”. In that instant I remembered the picture, the
flower and the prayer. And vividly the
promise came to me that God would help me.
And he did.
By God’s
grace, we got through that season and we often said that it accelerated the
deepening our relationship’s roots. We
were stuck to each other like glue.
A few
months went by and I got the opportunity to take a few months to study in New
Zealand. Roxy made me promise I would go
and that she’d be fine and – though I cringe now at the timing – off I
flew. It was during my time away in New
Zealand, reflecting on life going by, graduation approaching in 18 months or
so, that I realised that we were meant to be.
There was no-one else – the very idea of anyone else seemed utterly
ludicrous – I had to marry her.
She agreed
to come out and travel to New Zealand with me that summer before returning to
Scotland together. But as it turned out,
she’d been struggling by without much in the way of spare cash. One month to pay the rent she had actually
pawned some of her belongings. She
scrolled through flights and airlines and found the cheapest return to New
Zealand. £600 and change. There was no way. She prayed.
Effectively cut a deal with the almighty: if this is the man for me, then you need to
get me over there. The answer which came
shortly thereafter wasn’t encouraging.
Not a cheque but a bill – unpaid student accommodation. She shuffled up to the university option with
her letter, to pay her dues with her last pennies and to put the rest on
credit. At the desk, the attendant tapped
away on her computer and frowned. There
must be some mistake. Panicking, Roxy
wondered how much more she owed now. But
instead, with a smile, the attendant told her no: we owe you. How much?
£600 and change.
So out Roxy
comes to Auckland, New Zealand. But
things weren’t all rosy in the garden.
It was odd. You may call it anxiety,
oversensitivity. To us, it seemed deeper
– something spiritual. For both of
us. We talked around it, ignored it. We went for a walk on the beach and it was
all small talk and superficiality. Then
we realised as we tried to find the car, that we were lost. So it became a substantially longer
walk. And then as we walked and searched
for the path and wondered where on earth the car was, we began to talk. Really talk.
Both of us started pouring our souls out, what we’d been thinking, how
we’d been feeling. We felt our spirits
lift, the skies brighten. And then we
stood and hugged and prayed. And as we
finished praying we asked Jesus, with a giggle, to show us where the car was as
we didn’t want to die out there on the dunes.
I kid you not. We opened our
eyes, and there before us was our borrowed Toyota Starlet.
From then
on it felt like someone was watching out for us. At every stage, we found favour. We nearly missed a ferry – and then ended up
being at the head of the queue avoiding the traffic because they snuck our car
on at the very end. We ran out of fuel
in the middle of the night only to grind to a halt outside an antiques shop of
all places, where the owner just so happened to be standing outside and had a
jerry can of petrol behind the till. We
landed up in Dunedin, unplanned, on a festival day with a big local event on
that made it the best day of the year to visit.
We parked up in a layby in the pitch black to get some sleep in the car,
lost (again) only to wake with the dawn looking at the most incredible
waterfall. These were magical days.
Home we
came, and minds were made up. I bought a
ring. I hid it in my room. I was sure, of course I was. But still – it’s a big deal this, getting
engaged, getting married. How do you
know that you know? I prayed a
prayer. I said “I won’t go down this
road unless I know for sure that you’re with me in this – because this is a big
deal, and I’m terrified”.
At this
time I was flatmates with my sister.
I know. Lucky her. She was unaware of any of this, and in
particular knew nothing about the ring, or about the prayer that I’d
prayed. We were chatting and she said
something to me about an email. She had
signed up to some “bible verse of the day” email mailing list, and she told me
she’d forwarded it to me today as for some reason she just thought it might be
good for me. I thought nothing of it
until later on when I checked my emails and read it. My jaw hit the floor. Remember that prayer I prayed? God sent me his answer in an email. The verse my sister had sent to me was Joshua
1:9. It says this:
Have I
not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be
discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.
I had my
orders.
On the top
of Ben Lomond, with the Trossachs beneath us and the sunshine above us, I asked
Roxanne Ridler to be my wife.
And, to add
to all that had gone before, despite barely seeing a soul on the whole walk, it
just so happened that at the very moment I proposed there was an older couple
on the summit ready to take our photo.
Speaking of miracles, that she said yes when I had that hairstyle is further evidence of a benevolent deity.
There are so many other stories I could tell of prayers answered, things coming together at just the right time, just as we needed them. Unnecessary generosity, the goodness of a God who loves us just because he does. But I need to stop this blog somewhere. So I’ll stop it here. Me and my fiancée, stumbling down a mountain, tired, giddy, two daft kids in love. And 11 years on, with three daft kids of our own, by the grace of God... we still are.
