A year after I was baptized in 1990, Steve was baptized. We were friends, but every time he asked if I might be interested in him, I would run away because he didn't fit my image of what I wanted in a brother. "No way," I told my roommates, "would I ever date Steve!"

Three years later, Steve and I had both moved to Chicago from Louisville. We saw each other occasionally, but were in different sectors.   One night, after a devotional, I asked him to dinner with my friends. "Wow," I thought as I listened to him talk about heaven, "I think I really like him. Maybe he'll call." Days passed. No call.

One day, my sector leader called to ask if I would join a group of singles moving to Los Angeles.  Seconds earlier, I had told a friend that I wasn't the California type, and I wouldn't go to L.A., yet I answered, "Yes!"  Steve was moving there as well and wanted to caravan, so several of us drove together. Three days before I left, my roommate and I both dreamt that Steve and I were getting married, and I couldn't ignore that message.

Our friendship was renewed on that trip. Afterwards, I wrote his resume, and we supported each other while job hunting. A month later he asked me to be his girlfriend. I prayed, got advice, then said "Yes."

Four months from our arrival, he knelt on a Malibu beach with tears in his eyes, while I stared speechless at the ring in my hand. "Yes! I'll marry you!"  Eight months from our arrival in L.A., I walked down the aisle in Louisville, past friends from Louisville, Chicago and L.A. 

In six years of marriage, we have moved several times, landing again in the Louisville area, and God has blessed us with our first daughter. I am still amazed at all that took place and am grateful to be married to Steve. Most of all, I'm grateful that God let me see the wonderful friend right under my nose.