Our Story: Bub, A Toga, and Vomit

We have a love story.

I am right in the middle of my (tumultuous, laughter-filled, crazy, unplanned) "happily ever after." And I'm loving every moment of walking with the wonderful man which God gave me.

I always loved hearing every detail of my parents' story, and God's plan through marriage is one of the most delightful workings of His grace, so, I'm going to use this fall-into-winter, to commemorate our crazy rush down the aisle.

Because we were crazy. Stark-raving mad. And totally, completely meant for each other.

It began as October began to wrap its crisp fingers around the world. I had begun my career in September (finally!) after six long years of school. I was in love with life. And I was blissfully content. Alone. With my wonderful roomie, a fabulous job (money, finally!), and family.

Other people were not quite as content as I was. It does seem like as soon as you become fully content with being alone, everyone else decides it's an absolute necessity to find you someone. I would smile, nod, and ignore all suggestions. God had finally planted me in perfect peace. It was heavenly. I did not want a man.

Which is, of course, when he entered.

Scott Allison. His picture in the church bulletin insert made him look about 32 years old. His educational background (Pensacola Christian College) made me think of ankle-length skirts and panty-hose. I shook his hand in a long line of people welcoming him to the church. It was cold. And he looked like he was trying really hard to be cheerful.

Through the remnants of September, into October, we would bump into each other occasionally. He always looked chronically tired and determinedly happy. And he was busy. All the time. Constantly. He worked like crazy cakes. So, even though he wore old man jeans, too much flannel, and had a hyper-conservative college experience, I started watching Scott Allison.

The vomit sealed the deal.

A very distraught, whining child worked herself up into a frenzy. And then she hurled all over a preschool classroom one Wednesday night. I was picking up my little sis, Julie-Bop, and I saw Scott, down on his hands and knees, cleaning up vomit for the queasy teachers.

That was it. Any guy who would clean up that mess--voluntarily--was worth some attention. Plus, I had a sneaking suspicion that he didn't really need help when he asked me to serve in the Community Center on October 16th. But, since he was willing to clean up vomit, I was willing hand out gym towels and find out more about Scott Allison.

So, I curled my hair, bought a new sweatshirt (so I could look effortlessly pulled-together), and showed up for a four hour shift. It was entertaining. The people I talked to on that day... I went toe-to-toe with a volunteer's adamant stance on questionable movie choices, counseled a crying mother, and cleaned bathrooms, and passed out lots of towels. Scott kept taking me places and "training" me: how to raise and lower basketball hoops, doing laundry, stocking the janitor's closet... And he kept talking. He shared his testimony, family history, upbringing, and how he's not a Bible-thumping-King-James-only preacher.

It was fun. I liked him. He was funny. And quirky.

Which is why, on October 27th, 2012, at the Annual Harvest Party, after my Wednesday night FCI class, I walked up and down the hall, ostensibly to find different people and chit-chat, I actually just wanted to see Scott.

And there he was! Wearing a bed-sheet toga. Because he was Pontius Pilate. Obviously. My mouth wiggled as I controlled my laughter. Our brief conversation was stilted and unsatisfactory. It's very hard to small-chat with a man draped in cream, 300 thread count bedding.

I left. A little bummed. After all, that Saturday may have just been a fluke.

"Courtney!"

I turned. A toga-clad man was jogging towards me.

"Here. There are some extra pumpkins. You want one?"

I grinned. Yes. Of course I wanted a pumpkin. "Sure. What's this one's name?" Everyone knows that each pumpkin has a name.

"Ummm... Bub?"

"Bub. Okay. Thanks."

We exchanged awkward grins... And our love story began.



Happy October 27th!