"'I LOVE YOU!' he said 'i love you' - me, he loves me."That's part of the journal entry found from the night before we left for our first visit to India.
The setting was in Lewiston, Maine, a cold winter evening. Marc's parents lived across the driveway from his mom's parents. We had just gone down to visit Gram and Gramp and to say good-bye before our trip to India. I was staying with his family because he and his Dad and I were flying out of Portland to meet the rest of our mission team in NY the next morning.
I had never expected to fall in love when I met Marc. It wasn't what I had scheduled for my junior year of college. I was ready to be an RA and to throw myself into my studies. Infatuations and unmet expectations had stolen a lot of my time and energy during the previous few years. This was going to be my year of focus.
Marc and I had known each other for four months. We were 'dating' in the pressure filled culture of a Christian college, with people having all sorts of 'how you are really supposed to date' ideas. As we moved along in our relationship we tried to sift through what we thought and believed for ourselves. I think we did pretty well. But let me share that we were well into the conversation about marriage and had not yet shared our first kiss. It was still a thrill, a big deal, when we held hands.
We had been not only conservative in our physical relationship, but in our promises and conversations. Marc was still trying to figure out a call to a season of celibacy, perhaps in a monastic setting. It was pretty clear to me that he was to be my life-companion. We had long, frank conversations about this.
That night, we paused in the driveway on our way back to the main house to look up at the clear star-filled sky. I said something, I have no idea what. All I know is that he said "I love you" and it was one of those orchestral, sky-spinning moments. All of the dreaming of a life together that we had begun to share became even more than a dream, it became a path going somewhere.
I imagine that we hugged, though I don't remember it. But I do remember scrambling into bed that night with my journal, my hands still shaking.
"'I LOVE YOU!' he said 'i love you' - me, he loves me."