"Where there is love, there is courage." — Louise Penny
Reflect for a moment on the initial stirrings of romantic attraction. With that awakening, a potent mix of exhilarating excitement, unsettling fear and wide-eyed wonder likely surged. Remember the butterflies and the nervous energy that felt both thrilling and terrifying? Can you still recall those feelings?
For me, that first spark ignited in seventh grade. Her name was Brittany. Our school banquet was approaching, and the possibility of asking Brittany to be my date suddenly dawned on me. The very thought both electrified and paralyzed me. What if she said no? What if, incredibly, she said yes?
The week leading up to the banquet, I devised a plan: simply walk up to her and ask. Yet, as so often happens, reality proved far more daunting than theory. Each time I approached her, she was surrounded by a constellation of friends. Even making eye contact felt like a monumental task.
Day after day, I promised myself I would find the courage, but each day, the circumstances never seemed quite right. The day before the banquet arrived, and my nerves still failed me. My friends knew of my intentions; her friends were likely aware too, but the crucial words remained trapped within me.
As the final school bell rang, a wave of resignation washed over me. A date with Brittany, it seemed, was not in my destiny. However, just as Brittany was heading out the classroom door, one of my friends yelled, "Wait!" Then, with a well-aimed kick to my backside, I was propelled forward.
I landed awkwardly on my knees just as Brittany turned around. Without me uttering a single word, she declared, "Fine, I will go with you!" My initial foray into the world of dating, however unconventional, was a success.
Fast-forward a decade. A stress management elective in my final year at Walla Walla University presented a similar challenge: Our professor gave us an assignment to step outside our comfort zone. For someone who still found summoning the courage for romantic pursuits a significant hurdle, this felt like a pointed opportunity. I had noticed a girl playing tennis. Her smile captivated me, and the positive things I'd heard about her intrigued me.
So, I looked her up in the student directory and found her number. As the phone rang, a wave of doubt washed over me. She didn't know me; I had no idea what to say. The ringing continued, and I ended up leaving a message.
Fortunately, we connected, and our first date took place on Valentine's Day in 2006.
As graduation loomed for both of us, the future of our connection remained uncertain. Pursuing a relationship would mean navigating the complexities of distance: My girlfriend, Danelle, would be working as a nurse in Loma Linda, California, while I would be in Spokane, Washington, pursuing a Master of Social Work. Despite the logistical challenges, we decided to take the leap and keep dating.
That summer, I found a job in Memphis, Tennessee, and embarked on a cross-country adventure in my “trusty” 1994 Ford Taurus station wagon. Danelle and I spoke almost daily on the phone, and, at the end of the summer, she flew to Memphis. We planned a road trip back together in the aging vehicle.
Initially, the drive was wonderful, but by the time we reached Colorado, the Taurus began to protest with ominous noises. On a highway just outside Denver, it finally succumbed, losing all power. Luckily, I managed to coast to a stop by a designated carpooling spot.
A kind stranger approached us. "Do you need any help?" he asked, observing the smoke billowing from my engine. "I'm no car expert, but I know some people." He made a few calls; his friends confirmed the engine's demise, and they generously took us to their home while I searched Craigslist for a replacement vehicle.
Later, at their house, they casually asked, "Do you know who that was who helped you?" It turned out to be Turk Wendell, a professional baseball player who pitched in the 2000 World Series.
After some frantic online searches and financial maneuvering, I acquired a 1989 Audi. It carried us to the beautiful landscapes of Monument Valley, Utah, before it, too, succumbed to mechanical woes. With help from some local mechanics, I ordered the necessary replacement part with hopeful anticipation. However, when it arrived half a week later, it was not the right one.
Faced with a looming start date for her new job, we scrambled to find transportation for Danelle back to Loma Linda. We eventually secured a seat for her on a tour bus. Left alone with my broken-down Audi, I eventually cut my losses and sold it.
Looking back on the stress I felt at that time, I am left with nothing but appreciation and good memories. The truly remarkable aspect of that entire chaotic adventure is that my girlfriend stayed with me through it all.
We are now married, navigating life with two kids and, thankfully, reliable vehicles. This journey was made possible, in part, thanks to a stress management class assignment, the unexpected kindness of a professional baseball player, and the unreliable spirit of my 1994 Ford Taurus. I figure, if Danelle could stick by me while stranded in the middle of Monument Valley, she's the kind of girl I never want to let go.
Love fuels courage. Where is love calling you to be brave? Pick up the phone. Write the letter. Say the words. The desire for genuine connection makes facing fears and taking risks worthwhile.
Whether it's reaching out, being vulnerable or committing despite uncertainty, allowing love to lead provides the strength to step into the unknown. Trust that when it comes to love, the risk is always worth taking.
