My Spring, Part 1
This is the sequel to That Winter Part 1, That Winter Part 2, & That Winter Part 3.
Ryan and I met eight years ago today. I’ll never stop telling this story as long as we live, because when you’ve lived out redemption and miracles, you can’t shut up about it.
Before I left on my trip to the Middle East, some guy emailed me, wanting to swap stories about our life journeys and experiences overseas. He got my name and email from some mutual friends, and seemed nice, but by that point in the winter, I was living in such deep shame from the unrealized abuse, I remember thinking, “I have nothing to offer this guy.” I didn’t feel worthy of simply meeting a guy that loved Jesus. But that’s why Jesus came, right? To love us in our most seemingly unloveable state. And that’s when I met Ryan Shuhart.
I didn’t email him back, left the country, forgot about him. While I did experience some healing during my time away, I still felt trapped beneath what I thought was the weight of my ‘mistakes.’ Winter felt indefinite and my ‘sins’ felt like they were relentlessly snowballing. I yearned for deep healing and reconciliation, but how could the pain melt when winter would hardly thaw?
One evening after I returned home, a couple of girls who knew Ryan mentioned his name at homegroup and my ears perked up. Forgetting my previous reasons for not emailing him, I quickly interjected, "Oh yeah! I need to email that guy!" The girls smirked.
The following Saturday I sat down at Crooked Tree Coffee Shop, where Ryan and I would meet a few days later. I fumbled out an email of apology and asked if he was still interested in meeting.
Typing out the email and clicking send felt like it had the intensity and tempo of that scene in You’ve Got Mail when Joe suggests he and Kathleen meet in person. Ryan responded almost immediately. F - O - X.
Ryan was kind and witty. We emailed back and forth a few times about cat videos on YouTube and moving out of the country. He still wanted to meet up to chat in person. Thursday, 3 pm at Crooked Tree.
Before I left my apartment that afternoon I got on my knees and asked Jesus that I would either marry this guy or never see him again. It was a bold prayer, but I was desperate. I didn’t want to be taken advantage of, again. I didn’t want another codependent 'friendship,' again. And I didn’t want Ryan to join the long list of guy ‘friendships’ – for both his sake and mine.
When I first saw him, I remembered him from an event for refugee children months earlier that summer. He was the cute, humble photographer with the yellow backpack. I wanted to meet him, but he kept to himself doing his task, not in it for the attention. Regardless, I was distracted by him. But I was sweaty, wearing a t-shirt that fit like a dress, & had been clobbered by water balloons. I wasn't up for approaching him that evening. I hoped he didn’t remember me; I assumed he didn’t...why would he?
He did. He realized before our meeting that he had some photos of me from the event (we were both coy about these facts for weeks).
When I walked in he was talking to another girl, and I oddly assumed he invited a third person along for assurance that this wasn’t a date. He didn't, I was just overly skeptical. He greeted me with a side hug before I could stick out my hand. I later made up for this by shaking his hand before he could kiss me when we were pronounced husband and wife at our wedding.
He was friendly, I was skeptical. He ordered a coffee, I had large latte, hoping to cure my headache. Before I sat down, he pulled out his laptop, which was confusing, and he later told me he did this in case our meeting didn't last long, and in case I was a weirdo.
I ended up giving him my receipt for the WiFi code, which I was secretly planning on keeping as a memento in case it went anywhere. It did ;)
Minutes into our conversation he knew he was going to marry me, even though we were moving to different continents. We talked for hours – about where we had been, where we were going. I was incredibly guarded, and stayed that way for the first few months of our relationship, but as he shared that afternoon my feelings of unworthiness began to thaw. He spoke of experiencing deep doubt with Jesus – things that I was currently in the midst of recovering from while sitting across from him; questions and doubts no one else knew; things I had prayed for my future spouse to empathize in – all coming out of the mouth of this stranger, even down to his specific diction. As I listened, I repetitively thought, “What is going on?...”
We traded numbers and agreed to maybe...? meet up again before we each left the country. The reality was, he was ready to move forward, but to cover it up he overcompensated by acting blasé to the extent that I wasn’t sure if I would hear from him again.
I got in my car and trekked up the Tollway, questioning but knowing something had just happened. I knew Jesus was answering my prayer either one way, or the other. And with tears welling in my eyes I asked Jesus once again, that I would never hear from Ryan again...or that I would marry him.
A week later, the day after our first date, my moving overseas fell through. Ryan showed up on my doorstep the next afternoon. It was a breezy spring-like day, my roommate and I had the windows and doors open, breathing in any signs of new life. Our lungs were desperate. I was desperate.
Lizzie called my name and I peeked around the corner and there he was, standing there with a flower in his hand. And I knew he was it. My Spring after a hellish winter. Jesus’ unconditional and incomprehensible love tangibly before me. My eyes were puffy from crying the bulk of the day before, but he didn't care. He didn't see my seeming imperfections or reasons I tend think I'm unloveable.
He patiently helped me zip my suitcase; I was leaving the country again. I asked Lizzie to take a quick photo of us, our first one. I wanted to remember that moment – the beginning of redemption.
To be continued. 🌼
*Neither of us are perfect, and our story only exists because of Jesus’ perpetual healing from addiction, abuse, pain, and brokenness. We haven’t arrived – we’re still healing. But because of Jesus, we’re also still seeing redemption and miracles, and I won’t shut up about it ;)