August came in a rush. Between showers, going back and forth between Mississippi and Louisiana and Texas, working as a valet, and writing thank you notes the wedding was upon us before we knew it. I couldn’t believe that everything was coming together so well. In less than a month, Paul and I would get married.

Just when everything seems to be going perfect is when everything around you comes crashing to a halt, and you realize wedding plans are just that…wedding plans.

One night while watching TV my dad called. I knew it wasn’t going to be good when I heard his voice on the line. My dad does not call at night for no reason.

“MacKenzie, we’re at the emergency room in Kosciusko. Tom, Granny (my mom’s parents), Uncle Dewayne, and Aunt Mary (My mom’s brother and sister-in-law) were in a wreck tonight while on their way to Starkville to see Mirae and J (my cousin and her husband). Uncle Dewayne has a broken leg. Aunt Mary is ok. Tom has some cuts and bruises and they are examining him. Granny is not doing well though. They will take her to Jackson soon, but everything is ok.” All of this was said in a very calm, soothing voice. My dad is stable in times of chaos and panic. He is the steadiest person I know.

“Ok, well…I was coming home next week so I’ll just come a few days earlier.”

The conversation ended a few minutes later, and moments after I had hung up the phone either Kathy or Jimmy Rone called, asking for Paul. After explaining he was at work I told them I had talked to Daddy and would come home the next day.

Paul came over after work and I believe he had talked to my dad already. He stayed with me that night – in the other guest room. I just didn’t want to be alone. My world, in a matter of minutes, had come crashing down around me. Who cared about wedding plans and thank you notes now? The only thing I knew, being so far away, was that my grandparents, especially my Granny, was in critical condition. My mom, who I had not spoken to that night, I knew was taking it hard. Her mother, father, and brother had all been hurt in some way. I wondered how she was doing, but took comfort in knowing my dad was with her.

I had no specific details. I would have to wait until I arrived at the hospital to get any real answers. It was a long, sleepless night and would be a longer drive back home.

The week we were in Mississippi was a whirlwind. It started the night of our engagement. A date had to be chosen, apparently that night. We sat down at the dining room table with my mother and discussed possible options. I immediately turned to December. Paul turned back a few months to August. I looked at him like he was crazy. There was no way we could pull a wedding off in three short months. His reasoning was that the IMB required you be married a year before going overseas. So, the sooner, the better. And after really looking at the events of December and even November, August was all that would work. The date was put on the church calendar the next day. Thereby being written in stone.

Since we were only in Kosciusko for a week we also had to register. It would be another month before we were back and since the wedding would be so soon we had to get it done. Thus we began the painstaking process of picking out china, stemware, and nicknacks. Paul soon got into it and might have picked out more than me.

The next three months were filled with more registering, finding a dress, showers, sending out invitations, writing thank you notes, rubbing the cramp out of my hands, finding an apartment, moving Paul into that apartment, choosing flowers, not going crazy, returning extra dishes, wanting the wedding date to just arrive all ready, picking a cake, and tons of other things.

It was a long three months to say the least. It was a time filled with an incredible array of emotions. You can learn a lot about a person when planning a wedding in a short amount of time. I don’t think I was a Bridezilla, but Paul definitely saw how detailed and Type A I am. I’m kinda surprised he stuck around after he saw my detailed sketch of the wedding ceremony and the minute-by-minute schedule I had for the wedding day.

But we made it through all of the wrapping paper, disagreements, make-ups,the guest list, and a maze of other wedding plans to the eagerly awaited week of the wedding.

Finally, after

I couldn’t stop professing my love…after all I’d wanted three long months to say it.

I had to finish getting ready so we could go to town. It took a while though because as I dried my hair I kept looking at the ring, as I brushed my hair I would change the ring sparkling in the lights, as I put on my make-up I’d have to stop to look at it. I know, I know. I shouldn’t have been so caught up in the ring, but I just couldn’t believe how pretty it and how it sparkled when it caught the light and more importantly that it was actually on my finger.

That ring represented so many things. It signified that I was going to be married, that I’d found the man I wanted to give my heart to and whom I could trust to hold my heart tenderly in his hands. It also meant that a man had prayed for me, found me desirable, pursued me, loved me and found in me the qualities he felt would make him a good wife and mother to his children. It was and still is one of the greatest compliments I’ve ever received.

I finally finished dressing and we went into town. We were trying to track down my mother who was at the church doing something. She, of course, was happy but not surprised. Had other women not been around I think we would have done a happy dance, but we both tried to control ourselves and harness our excitement. Next, because the rest of my family could not be found, we headed over to meet Kathy Rone at Rib Ally, a restaurant in town owned by her sister. I think she may have done a little happy dance.

The rest of the day was spent on a cloud. Everything was brighter, bolder, funnier, and more beautiful. Paul and I helped Momma prepare for my niece, Elena’s, birthday party. There were several people coming for the cookout and we had lots to do. Little did I know that the birthday party was also an engagement party. I repeat once more, I am naive.

My grandmother Montague was probably the most surprised. I’ll never forget the look on her face. She’d had about as much a clue it was going to happen as I did, despite the fact that she’d written one of the letters to me.

So, it was official. I would marry Paul H. Davidson, III. The sooner the better.

Luckily for me, Paul’s mom has a great sense of humor and my first impression was not as bad as I thought it had been.

Paul spent the next few days introducing me to his hometown of Simsboro and the town his parents now live in, Ruston. I met friends, grandparents, saw his alma mater, and ate at some local hangouts. I liked seeing this part of him – where he grew up and all the people who mattered so much to him.

I had been so worried about being accepted and welcomed by his family and what I found was a set of open arms…actually more than a set when you count all the grandparents.

My sister had held off my niece’s birthday party so that I could be there so we had leave Louisiana after a few days in order to get to Mississippi.

We got there a day or two before the party, and Paul met the rest of my family and was introduced to Scrabble in the Montague house. To his credit he won the first game – and boldly put the score sheet with his score circled on the fridge. It might possibly still hang there.

Saturday was a dreary, rainy day and everyone had left the house except us and my brother, Cade, who was leaving shortly. I went to get a shower so Paul and I could go to town. After a long, hot shower and dressing, I opened the bathroom door and saw a note hanging on the opposite wall. I was instructed to go around the house in search of boxes, and after finding each box I had to open it and read what was inside.

Ooo…a treasure hunt! I was excited about the expedition and immediately set out. I could dry my hair later. What I found in every increasingly smaller box were notes to me from different family members and friends. The waterworks started and didn’t stop but instead increased steadily with every box I found. I finally found Paul sitting on the couch in the living room reading his Bible, patiently waiting for me to arrive.

The last box contained a note from Paul. (A side note here: Paul had told me very early in our relationship – all of three months prior – that he would not tell me he loved me unless he was asking me to marry him. Having had my heart crushed with those simple three words earlier in life I appreciated that.) Paul’s note ended with, “I finally get to say….” I couldn’t believe it. I was going to hear the words that I had long been wanting to say to him.

I sat down by him on the couch. He told me all kinds of pretty, nice things that made me cry even more. Then he pulled out the final, smallest box. He opened it for me, pulling out the coveted black velvet box. Getting on one knee if front of me he told me he loved me and asked me to marry him.

I reckon you can guess I said “yes”.

Sitting in Panera Bread that night trying to pretend that Paul had not just asked my father if he could ask me to marry him was weird to say the least. We all got through it as best as we could. I was on pins and needles the whole time wanting to ask Paul how it went. He, of course, would give no details.

The weekend passed and my family went home to Mississippi. I packed up my apartment that next week and moved into Dr. Gordon Borror’s house. Dr. Borror was one of my professor, and he and his wife were going to Oregon for the summer and needed someone to house sit. Fortunately for them, I was in need of a place to stay.

I was at the house just long enough to get comfortable and my clothes unpacked when Paul and I left to spend a few days in Louisiana and then Mississippi. I had not met Paul’s family yet, and I really didn’t know what to expect. I mean, you can tell someone all about your family, but until you meet them, you have no idea what you are getting yourself into.

I did not think I had started on a good foot. When we walked into the house of Paul and Juletta Davidson I walked in, looked down, and saw the fattest Dachshund I had ever seen in my life. I’ve still never seen a fatter one. I believe I commented on the obesity that is Abigail, the daughter of the Davidson household. Paul’s mom replies,” Hey! Don’t talk about my dog like that.”

Oops.

Having recovered from his brief anxiety spell – or so everyone thought – my father made his way back into the graduation ceremony in time to see me happily walk across the stage, shake the president’s hand and accept my diploma. I held it in my hand like a vice grip, afraid someone would come take it away from me and tell me a mistake had been made.

The graduates filed out after the faculty and I made my way to the spot I had told my parents to meet me because after graduation the front lawn of Travis Avenue Baptist Church is mass chaos, with pictures, goodbyes, flowers being exchanged, and congratulations. There’s no telling how many pictures I walked into as I walked across that lawn trying to find friends over the years. But my family, like all the others, began the ceremonial picture taking.

However, we were all hungry so pictures were taken hastily and as was tradition for my very close friends and I, we headed over to Red, Hot and Blue for some BBQ, joined by my friends Tanya and Kristen. After a scrumptious lunch of pulled pork and french fries we all headed back to the hotel – minus Tanya and Kristen. My dad and I rode together. Immediately after getting in my Ford Explorer – a vehicle I miss to this day – he asks, “Is Paul going to talk to me anytime soon? Because I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest and I just need to get it over with.” How was I supposed to respond to THAT? I’d been wondering the same question, and I kinda thought Paul was going to talk to him that weekend, but I didn’t really know. We hadn’t discussed it. We barely talked about marriage. We hadn’t even said, “I love you” yet. Geesh Daddy. How was I supposed to know?

As soon as Paul and I were away from everyone I said, “You have to talk to my dad today. He’s going to have a heart attack if you don’t.” I don’t think that helped Paul’s nerves any as he was trying to make a good impression.

I went home to change and rest. Then it was back over to the hotel, just in time for supper. We walked along the river to Panera Bread, but upon arrival my father said, “I’m not hungry. I’m going to go for a walk and look in a store over here.” Paul piped up with, “Mr. Frank, do you mind if I walk with you?”

Oh my! The rest of us stood in awkward silence as we watched my father and Paul walk away to some unknown location.

Over the next three months the relationship between Paul and I developed quite rapidly. Meantime, I was sweating over my upcoming comprehensive exams. Three years of studying, classes, and working my behind off would come down to two days at the end of April. Passing meant graduation, failing meant no graduation and another semester of constant studying.

I’ll spare you the gory details of those two very stressful days. It is sufficient to say, however, that there was a lot of crying before, almost during, and most definitely after it was all said and done with, especially when I was told I would graduate.

My parents, grandparents, and family friends, Jimmy and Kathy Rone, arrived in Fort Worth on Friday afternoon. After Paul got off work we headed over to the hotel. I was more nervous about him meeting them than I was about our first date. Would they approve? Would he like them? Would he run away not wanting anything more to do with me?

We knock, the door is opened, hugs are exchanged, and then Paul is introduced. You know the awkwardness that always invades a space when there is a new person coming into a group that has known each other forever? Well, I don’t know if it was that or just my nerves, but I was so jittery I could hardly sit still…or be quiet. I sometimes talk rapidly when I am very nervous. However, he and my dad – the one I was really concerned about – were hitting it off, and during a fine dinner of fajitas at Uncle Julio’s Paul got to know my grandparents and Jimmy and Kathy as they played a game of “let-me-learn-everything-about-you-in-a-short-amount-of-time-so-I-can-give-my-approval-or-disapproval-of-you”. It’s a fun game for everybody involved, except for the girlfriend who is listening in praying her boyfriend answers every questions satisfactorily.

I awoke Saturday ready to graduate, fully aware it was happening my the good graces of three or four professors. Paul met my family and took them to the church where graduation would be held since I had to be there so early.

During the ceremony a conversation between my father and Paul took place about Paul’s future plans. What degree is he pursuing? What does he want to do? It comes out that Paul has to go overseas for two years. Apparently my father did not get the memo because he quietly excused himself as his chest tightened with the overwhelming thought that his daughter might be going with this young man overseas.

Paul grinned slightly, but nothing more was said on the topic of whether or not I would be willing to go overseas for the rest of lunch or for the next couple of weeks.

A few weeks passed with me in a dream-like state and my heart growing ever fonder of Paul, and at the end of February I headed down to Houston with a carload of friends to work a Disciple Now youth event. How would I ever make it through the weekend without seeing Paul? I didn’t know if I could take it. I can be a bit dramatic at times.

However after a long weekend spent with 7th grade girls I made it back to Fort Worth intact and without a breakdown while I had been away.

After throwing my bags in my apartment I walked as fast as I could, trying to appear calm to onlookers, to Paul’s apartment. My heart was beating out of my chest. I just couldn’t wait to see him. After all it had been THREE WHOLE DAYS since I’d seen him last. And at last I arrived and there he was…oh, how I had missed him.

Wanting some alone time we headed to my apartment because I, being the independent-need-my-own-space person that I am, had no roommates. We sat on the couch and I told him about the weekend and then about how much I’d missed him. Wait…was it too soon to mention that? All well, it was out there now.

After a couple of hours of catching up I walked Paul to the door, and it happened. That moment every girl dreams about. That knee-popping, out of this world, mind blowing, I almost fainted last first kiss.

My head continued to spin over the next weeks. Who was this man who had unexpectedly come into my life and turned it upside down? I didn’t know but I was perfectly content to allow it to happen.

We continued to go out for lunch every week by ourselves, enjoying getting to know more about one another over lunch. You can learn a lot about someone by what they eat. Are they healthy or a junk food junky? Do they like to try new things or are they a creature of habit? We chose to hit up Cousins B-B-Q one day in an effort to change up our routine of cafeteria lunches. Little did I know that a pivotal conversation would happen over a couple of BBQ sandwiches.

Sitting at a table secluded from any surrounding customers, Paul asked, “Do you think you would ever consider going overseas?” Maybe a footnote should be added here. Paul was in a degree program that required him going overseas for two years to serve as a missionary. He was in the process of meeting with International Mission Board (IMB) representatives and determining where in the world he wanted to spend two years of his life. Then, oops, I showed up. Now he had to figure out if I would even consider the possibility of a life overseas. I was in my last semester, trying to figure out what in the world I was going to do after graduation. I was looking into everything from women’s ministry to missions mobilization.

We would leave the restaurant holding hands with nobody able to pry us apart or as a disappointed young man and woman who would only be friends.

Paul sat patiently waiting for my answer.

Here comes my second bold statement to this man I had just started dating, “Well, I have always had a heart for missions and am currently looking for jobs that would allow me to mobilize. I’ve never really considered going full time though. But I’ll tell you this. 1) I am not waiting on you for two years and 2) I am not following you all over the world without a ring. Ultimatum…a new word was added to my vocabulary.

I awoke Sunday, the day after the date that had not started as such, in a state of utter disbelief. Did last night really happen? It seemed to good to be true. Here was this great guy who was interested in dating me and I had permission from his ex-girlfriend, who happened to be a good friend of mine, to date him. It seemed like it was meant to be. However,…

Every time I started dating someone, I jumped in with both feet and never bothered to pray about it until after the fact. Maybe I should be a little clearer on my dating history or lack thereof. In high school I dated two guys, in college I had one serious relationship and just went out once or twice with a couple of other guys, and in seminary I only had a couple of first dates (I don’t count the one guy my brother and his friends set me up with that ended up ….. well that’s another story for another time) and that’s it. As you can tell, I was not an “experienced” dater. However, even with the few young men I did go out with prayer did not enter the picture until after I had gone out with someone, if it entered the picture at all.

I was determined to do things differently this time. I’d been hurt, made my share of mistakes, and been down the wrong road enough to not want to do it the same old way again. And there was just something different about Paul. I wanted to make sure this was something God wanted for me, not just something I wanted for myself. After church I went to the botanical gardens and spent time in prayer, and I felt a great sense of peace. That’s really the best way to describe it.

I left and headed over to some friends’ house to watch the Superbowl, taking my new rightful place next to Paul on the couch…and never leaving his side. It was a done deal at this point. I was all in.