And I knew

November was the month of my birth.

I was ushered into mortality and it's myriad adventures in the 11th month of 1941.

One such adventure began in another November nearly thirty years later.

He stood at the top of the stairs. His hair was sunstreaked with the same pale yellow as his shirt. He didn't speak, he didn't smile. He just pulled himself to his full height and looked down to where I stood. We were introduced. He turned and walked down the hall without uttering a sound.

"What an odd young man" was the only thought I had as I crossed the road and entered my apartment. I wondered if he was shy, ill and unable to speak, or possibly just rude.

Soon, I was pulled from my musings by the noise of roommates coming home and excitedly talking about the cute, new guy who had just moved into our B.Y.U. "family". "Did you see how tall he is?" "His eyes are so blue." "Did you hear what he said when I asked him where he'd been the first couple months of the semester?" "He was so funny." "I love the way he moves." "He does seem sort of quiet."

Quiet? Did I hear someone say quiet? Mute, was the word that popped into my mind. Aahhh, well. It looked like he'd be well received and befriended by the young women in our small group, anyway.

That evening we had a gathering in our yard to introduce him to all of the members of our family. He sat aloof in a corner watching the activities with detached interest. Hot chocolate was passed around to everyone. As I walked up to ask how he was feeling about the guys he shared his new home with, he offered me the steaming cup in his hand. "No thanks, I answered him. I prefer hot egg nog." We exchanged a few words and I moved on as several of the girls swooped in around him.

I saw him several times over the next couple of weeks. We spoke briefly on a few occasions. Then during a family fireside one night, he turned to me and asked, "Just how old are you, anyway?" I laughed, answered him directly, and turned to grab a cookie off the plate that was teetering precariously on the arm of the couch behind me. Then, I took a deep breath and made the plunge. "Tell me a little about what you want to do with the rest of your life." I full well expected him to pull back under his protective shell of silence. But, his soft voice began to weave dreams... he told me of his love for the outdoors, of his desire to work with young boys who society was prepared to toss aside and declare as lost. His goals to do something began to take a turn and be replaced with a purpose to become something. I was mesmerized.

The following night, we had a dinner at our apartment for all of our family members. I had invited my beautiful, best friend to meet this young man who had suddenly become enchanting. I also had invited my boyfriend. Just that evening I had knelt in prayer and told my Heavenly Father that Jerry and I had made the decision to take our relationship to the next level. We were talking eternity. I told Him that unless He did something to stop me, I had decided to become Jerry's bride.

I've learned that when you ask, be prepared to be answered. At one point during the evening I went into the kitchen to help carry out dessert. While I was away, Jerry leaned across my dinner plate and asked my best friend to do him the honor of accompanying him for a nice meal and a play later that week. When I was told by my startled friend what took place in my short absence, I was devestated. A set of blue eyes sitting across the table had been watching with sympahty and understanding as this minor drama unfolded.

After the dishes has been washed and put away and everyone had gone to their seperate destinations, I sat in darkness and talked with the Lord. "Okay, I get it. The message came through. He is NOT who you have in mind. Couldn't you have been a little less brutal in letting me know?"

There was a quiet knock at the door. There he was, blue eyes downcast. Snow was settled on his blonde hair like an old night cap. "I thought I'd go buy some ice cream. Would you like to tag along?" I didn't feel like going out in the storm... but somehow I found myself putting on a coat and following him out to his old grey Chevy. I waited in the car while he ran into the store. When we were back home, he invited himself in. I sat on the couch as he went in the kitchen and began to rattle in the cupboards for... well, I couldn't tell what. In a few minutes he was standing before me holding a cup of hot egg nog and extending it toward me. I began to cry. He pulled me from where I sat and said, "You silly Californians. I bet you think the sky is falling. It isn't. It's just snow. See, you have snowflakes melting in your eyes." Cheesy? Perhaps. But also sweet and full of tenderness and compassion.
And I knew.

That night, Wayne took my heart in his hands and ushered me toward our eventual marriage and it's myriad adventures. It was the 11th month of 1972. He has since nourished and watered my soul as you would a flower garden. Through his care, I have grown and blossomed.

November was the month of my re-birth.