Divine Romance

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.