Flash forward a few weeks.
I begin to assimilate into the seminary lifestyle. Friendships form. Ryan and I are part of what will become a close-knit circle of friends. Ryan and I begin to talk on occasion and I learn that the man I thought to be tough is actually tender. He is wise, funny, and I find myself looking forward to our chance meetings. We have a poignant conversation in the seminary chapel, which will one day be the site of my proposal, as well the site of our wedding ceremony.
We become friends, casual at first, and then, close. Ryan doesn’t go home for Christmas and so, I invite him to have Christmas dinner with the Kemp family. Ryan seems to fit in and I recall both of us enjoying our Christmas prime rib in Grandma’s living room. In retrospect, I am able to see the sparks of romance, but stubborn pride will prevent any romantic advances for several months.
During the Spring semester of our first year at seminary, feelings for each other grew stronger, but, much like learning to drive a stick-shift, there were numerous “stops” and “starts,” bumps and lurches. Eventually, Ryan asks me out on our first official date—a night out at the Dell Diamond to see the Round Rock Express. We eat hot dogs (too many hot dogs, in fact) and drink Shiner (well, I drank Shiner. I think Ryan had a Pepsi) and sit in the glaring sun just to watch the Dodgers farm team beat the Express. I still have the commemorative bobble-head that was a giveway that night. It’s sitting on my bookshelf.
Flash forward a year and three months. We manage to struggle and grow in our relationship. We simultaneously discern our calls to ministry as well as our calls to serve each other. He gets a ring. He asks “the question.” I say “yes.” And the rest, as they say, is history…
