Our Love Story

If you would have told me three years ago that I would be in a serious relationship with a British boy, I would have turned around and asked you which hoaxy rom-com filled your head with these wild and unrealistic fantasies. But, as it turns out, today marks three years of dating this said British boy (who completely turned my life around- by the way).

Jack, I don't quite know if you knew what you were getting into the first day you walked into my geometry class. I had just gotten back from Christmas break of my sophomore year, and you were a quiet little freshman with thick, swoopy hair and a sweet smile. I remember my friend Johnathan, minutes before you took your place at the seat behind me, gossip about how there was this new foreign kid at school. I remember asking if he knew anything about him, and all Johnathan said was "I think he's Scottish and he likes soccer and electronic music." We soon found out that you, in fact, were British and had moved from Scotland and for some miracle of God ended up at my school in my class behind my seat.

I would find time in between our teacher's ramblings about shapes and formulas to try and make conversation with you as best I could, without trying to be like every other teenage girl who just followed you around, obnoxiously gawking at the way you pronounced things. When I brought up The Walking Dead, you started watching it with your mom the very same day just so we would have something to talk about. Before class, I would run into the bathroom and straighten my shirt and fix my hair just to try and impress you. Almost a year later, you would tell me how you used to hurry to geometry and scoot your desk a wee bit closer to mine before I came in.

We started out as friends at first, but I think we both knew what the term "skinny love" meant, we just never wanted to admit it. I remember texting you far past my bedtime and spending our days sending dozens of snap chat videos back and forth because all we wanted to do was get to know each other. Eventually, we created this thing we called "song of the day" in which every day I would send you a song to listen to and vice versa. That was the main catalyst of our friendship, music. Good music.

I could go on and on about my very first memories of us, how our first "hangout" was when we went to see The Mowgli's with my parents and how our very first picture together was with Mindy, the lead singer of Misterwives. Little did we know how big that band would end up becoming, and how we would see them two more times.

I could mention how on the second time we hung out, we were watching the second Captain America movie at North Point Mall and I kept trying to grab the popcorn the same time you did so that maybe, just maybe, my fingers would intertwine with yours.

I remember when I invited you over to a cookout at my house and introduced you to practically my ENTIRE family and friends (it was a big cookout). I had no idea that one day Auma would start calling you her "grandboyfriend" and that you would still come and visit my sisters even after I left for college.

I could recount the feeling of when you grabbed my hand for the first time, we were in my Eno and were waiting for my dad's birthday party to start. Or your face expression after our first kiss, when I was sick and I begged my mom to drive me over to your house so we could study for finals together. My only intention was to hang out with my new best friend, but I left as something entirely different, and it happened in a moment that I will never, ever forget.

You came into my life when I was not at all the person I wanted to be. I was broken, depressed, a heaping mess of a thing. But instead of walking away, you showed up at my house with a stuffed animal fox from Ikea, and you helped me rebuild myself. Your gentle, calm spirit was (and is) the perfect balance to my fiery, chaotic soul, and I realized that you were my answered prayer, even though you might not have known it yet.You chose to walk alongside me as I transitioned into a finding who I was, and so in return, I gave you my heart.

I remember when we used to text each other "love ya" in a friendly kind of way, and I remember the slow and steady transition into "I love you" in a sincere, delicate, vulnerable, real kind of way. I knew when you said it, you meant it.

I remember when you sat on my trundle and started fidgeting with your hands because you had something to tell me. You were so nervous as you explained how you weren't a Christian, you didn't know God, and that you didn't want it to freak me out.

So, I decided to invite you to the Easter service at North Point Community Church, and I began to pray that you would experience God and that He would show Himself to you.

In the months and years that followed, I have seen your walk with the Lord grow stronger and stronger. I saw you gain curiosity as I kept inviting you back to church. I saw you begin to change during our mission trip to Jamaica. You said you felt something, but you weren't quite sure what it was. That's Jesus, I told you. I tried to answer all of your questions about faith, I invited you to Passion, we started going to NP Nights, I bought you a bible...and somewhere along the way, you started to figure it out. I like to think that it was my doing, but Jesus is the only one who could have done what he did in you, and I will never ever take the credit. I am so proud of who you are Jack, and you are now one of the most Christ-like people I know. It's funny how God answers prayers, isn't it?

Fast forward to today, and it's been three years since I've called you mine. I know it sounds like something in a hoaxy rom-com, but I can't imagine life without you. I really can't. And I don't want to. To me, you have always meant to be here. I believe your whole life so far has been a journey destined by God to connect us together. I needed you, and I still do, that much.

We have done and experienced so much together. We have served on two mission trips, one to Jamaica and one to Haiti. We flew to New York and walked down 5th avenue hand-in-hand. We have gone on day trips to Chattanooga and hiked to breathtaking views. We've been to more concerts than I can count with my fingers. We've eaten so much delicious food, discovered so many hidden treasures and have watched each other grow into the person we have always wanted to be. We have dressed up in cosplay in the middle of Atlanta. We cooked dinner for our parents. We completed a 24-hour scavenger hunt. We ziplined up in the canopies of the trees. We dined at the top of the Weston.

We have done all that and so much more. And I am so thankful you are the one I have to share those precious memories with.

I think people look at us and wonder "What's different about them?" because sometimes we may seem too good to be true. And the thing is, we are too good to be true. I go to bed every day and thank God that He brought you to me, that He completely and fully answered my prayer. And His timing couldn't have been more perfect and precise. So my advice to everyone is this: pray and wait and be patient. God will bring you that special someone, but it will be on His schedule, not yours. Trust in his timing.

Every once in a while,  you tell me how friends will ask you if you think we'll get married one day and you say absolutely, without a doubt. I know some may think it's foolish and silly and irresponsible, but I have to agree with them.

I don't know exactly what the future holds, and frankly, I don't care as long as you're in it. So, here's to three years of being my best friend, my adventure partner, my biggest fan, my partner in crime, and my one and only love.

And here's to many more to come.

Sincerely,

Olivia