In the afternoon, we students headed to Blue Hole in the Rio Frio. Technically, I was one of two certified lifeguards for the event. However, I had never actually worked as a lifeguard, I had just gone through training. Practical experience was severely lacking. At one point, he swam up to me and asked, “Is it alright if I go down to the bottom?”
Nervously, I looked at the depths beneath my kicking legs. Waving blue-green in the light, the cold water descended far into the rocky chasm. “Um… that makes me nervous…” I said, looking at him and realizing I couldn’t say no to his desire for a challenge and an adventure. “... okay, just be careful.”
In perfect form, he dove down. Everyone watched with rapt attention as he touched the bottom and then swam up. Much relieved that nothing had gone wrong, I then was informed not only was he a lifeguard himself, but had also been a swimmer for years and captain of his school’s swim team. Oh, Molly! I thought, He was perfectly fine, you silly goose!
Highly impressive on several counts, a subtle thought in the back of my mind warned me that I should keep my distance... lest I start to be more than impressed by him. I thought he was interested in someone else, and I succeeded in (at least temporarily) removing thoughts of him from my mind. Once in a while, we would randomly run into each other and have a conversation. Once at the writing center in the library he stayed for a long time talking. And once for his photography project three of us sat for him to take our pictures with old-fashioned black and white film.
Second semester began speedily in January, and everyone jumped into the spring sprint to summer. In late January, a large group headed out to country line dance for one of our friend’s birthday party. He was there, and kindly helped me light the candles for the cake and get the snacks ready. Conveniently (or providentially?), I also discovered he wasn’t talking to anyone at the time. Okay, I thought, so it won’t hurt to at least talk with him and be friends. And when he asked me to dance more than once, I said yes more than once and we had quite a bit of fun.
A few days later, we were hanging out with a group of friends playing games. Around 9:30, he headed out and I quickly excused myself as well (nearly my bed time, of course. For real). On the short walk back across campus, we discussed one of our mutual favorite authors, C. S. Lewis, as well as the theological implications of asking the question Why do some not suffer? rather than Why do some suffer?
For the rest of the week, I mulled over the quote he had shared. I decided to write a brief thank you note expressing my appreciation for his wisdom and insight. I stuck the letter in campus mail and promptly forgot about it. Randomly on a Friday afternoon, I checked my mailbox and discovered a handwritten letter. It was signed with his name in immaculate handwriting, Kamron.
Kamron wrote me a letter! I squealed inside.
Horrified, I realized I had spelled his name incorrectly on the thank you note I had sent. I had written K-A-M-E-R-O-N.
Later that evening was a group movie night, after which I walked up to him and thanked him for the letter. We stood and talked for just a bit … until someone walked by and asked incredulously, “Y’all are still here?” Looking at my watch, I realized it was just past midnight. We had been talking for over two hours outside in the cold!
“I think I’m going to go to bed - my toes have gone numb!” I said, laughing, “but I really enjoyed getting to talk with you!” Ugh, Molly! I reprimanded myself inside, Was that too bold? He probably just wants a friend. Don’t get your hopes up.
“Goodnight,” he said, “Next time let’s talk somewhere warmer.”
“Next time”.
The words rang in my ears as I scanned by ID card to re-enter the dorm.
The next day, I casually rolled down the grocery store isle standing on the cart with one of my best friends. We were at Natural Grocers, and I had just discovered giant collard green leaves with which I could make wraps. At the back of my mind all day on loop was I want him to text me … he probably won’t … I hope he texts me… Lord, help …
Around 7:40, I checked my phone.
Replying to the text, I giggled a little inside in excitement.
We watched a movie that night, and in the days that followed we hung up a tree swing, went painting at the state park, studied on snow days, and ate quite a bit of Mexican and Indian food.
When I think through the journey our God took me on, how He had a year previously whispered, Just wait.
And just over a year later, I realized what He said to wait for was our God going “beyond all {I} could ever ask or imagine”! (Ephesians 3:20). Boy, did I not deserve the life He had waiting for me!
This man who brings me lettuce wraps and fruit cups; reads aloud to me and teaches me how to paint; opens every door and consistently pulls my oblivious self out of the way of oncoming traffic. The man who patiently does trig homework or chemistry homework while I nap; the man who prays Scripture for me and constantly amazes me with his bold forthrightness. His very presence offers healing and strength. Instantly inspiring respect, he genuinely cares for others over himself and places his God first in all things.
Six months later, I still find myself thanking God for the miraculous and saying a thankful, No way!!!