How we met

This post is written for Five Minute Friday, where lots of writers gather at Lisa Jo Baker's blog and write unedited for five minutes straight. No edits. Just free flowing writing. Today the prompt is "together". Won't you come visit, and join in?

We were both just seventeen when we met on a trip to Apple River. 

Just babies really. 

And, I had my eye on one of the staff, not on him.

He jumped around in the middle of the motor home singing little bunny fu fu with a friend, and 

I couldn’t believe he was being so silly. 

Now, I realize he was just showing off. 

He and a friend, just letting it all go. 

No inhibitions. 

Funny.

Yes, I thought he was fun. 

And funny.

He asked for my phone number after that motor home trip.

He called and asked me to go to a Bible study that a mutual friend was starting.

So began our first summer.

Walking on my block at night.

Hanging out with campus life friends.

Softball.

Talking until we didn’t think we could talk anymore.

Then, I went back to another state for my last year in high school.

He didn’t think he’d ever see me again.

Kevin writing me from his dorm room, my Sr. pic on his desk

We wrote letters.

400 of them over the next 4 years.

Long distance,

 before email, texting, facebook, twitter.

And, we are still together.

Rough patches and all 

and even some times where we wanted to take different ways when the fork in the road came

 making us make decisions that were hard.

Making us grow up to who we are today.

(*29 years of marriage)

~Anne

Thanks for stopping by to visit! I believe God weaves a silver lining all through our stories.

Because she could let go

Today, I'm linking up with a community of encouraging writers at Lisa Jo Baker's blog for Five Minute Friday. The prompt is "she". Writing for just five minutes straight. From the heart. No need to be perfect, just sharing our hearts through words.  Won't you join in?

I only saw her three times in my life. 

Grandma Edith in a sea of flowers

She raised my dad until he was sixteen and then somehow, some way, said good bye to him as he followed his dream. His dream took him across the vast ocean to the land of “freedom rings” and the home of the brave. How could her mother heart allow that? How could she watch her oldest son leave and not know when she would see him again?

I only saw her three times but she has taught me much. 

Even though the three times I saw her, there was a language barrier . She speaking Swedish and I speaking English. My dad was the translator.

She smiled.

She laughed big. 

Her voice was warm and loving. 

And I knew by the letters she sent my dad in America that she loved him more than I can explain.

I’m not sure how she could let him go. Her oldest son. But, she did, and I am here as living proof. I’m glad she let him make the trip.

Grandma Edith, Dad and Grandpa Gustav on one of  Dad's visits home

From her I’ve learned the art of letting go of someone you love in order to let them find their dream. 

I’ve learned of love, grace and love of God.

Blessings to you Grandma Edith. Until we meet again.




How about you? Do you find it hard to let go? I do.

I have a post about my dad's trip to America at age sixteen here at my blog, A Ready Listener.