On February 14, 1987, my roommate Bob and I headed off to dinner together at Liberty University’s food service hall, like we did just about every evening. The food this evening was far better than usual, the tables were decorated, and the lights were dim, for this night for some was a celebration of St. Valentines’ Day, the food service company did its best to make the evening pleasant for those unable or not disposed to celebrate in a more expensive manner. For juniors Bob and me, it was merely dinner… a much yummier dinner than usual, mind you, but still merely dinner.
A spunky sophomore named Robin Hall, with whom I had recently made only the slightest acquantaince happened to work part-time there at the food service hall. Perhaps she and her coworkers were just a bit tipsy with the spirit of impertinent commentary on all the gussied-up couples parading though the lines on this romantic evening, or perhaps for some reason lost to the sands of time this young woman thought to ask me and Bob where our dates were. I retorted, "What’s it to ya?" or something to that effect. Robin was I think taken a bit aback by this rejoinder, but I don’t recall what specific words immediately followed.
Bob and I discussed the matter merrily over dinner. During a trip back up for seconds (recall the food was much yummier than usual), I asked Robin if she would like to go get a cup of coffee with me after her shift was over. She said she would, tho’ I don’t think she drank any coffee. And thus, nineteen years ago this day, we had our first date. On that same night, upon dropping her off at her dorm minutes before curfew, as I walked around to open the door for her, she stole the keys out of the ignition while my ’71 Chevy Impala was running. Less than two years later, we were married. In 1991, she gave birth to our first child. In June of this year, if all goes well, she will give birth to our sixth.
That evening was an improbable beginning to a even less probable lifelong convergence of two previously independent lives. And I thank God for improbabilities.
Happy Valentines’ Day, Sweetie!
What can be said that hasn’t already been said about the surprisingly widespread practice among churches of a certain size and disposition of cancelling Sunday services this year because they happen to conflict with the Feast of Our Lords’ Nativity, a.k.a., Christmas?