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How Did You Meet Your Spouse?


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WTAH...You weren't at Hickam Air Field were you? I lived in Hawaii for four years. My Dad was stationed there.

I joined the AirForce and did my time at Vandenberg, so I'm a vet myself... we're all Air Force vets in my family.

My sister's name is Leilani, BTW...

I met my husband because he was my neighbor and I was trying to witness to him.  :exclaimation:

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Guest tarrier

I didn't know it at the time, but twenty days after my birth, in cold sleet and sloshy England, my husband was born in the humidifying heat of South Africa.  Miles apart.  Nevertheless, already hand picked by the Creator of all, by the Lord, Who puts the lonely in families.  Years later, because of the forever itching feet of my father, and the complete optimism of my mother, I came face to face with my husband, in a sleepy country town, in the state of Natal, South Africa.  

We met while we were both in school; he was on school holidays, with his mom and together they were staying at a friend's house in my hometown.  The local pool and cinema were great highlights to our days.  The minute I met him, I knew I loved him.  Funny that.  I didn't even know him, but I knew.  

We endured being apart during school, as he lived and attended school in another town.  We endured being apart during my Technical College and his apprenticeship years.  We endured being apart during the first half of his National Service in the South African Defence Force.  Four months after the completion of his compulsory army service ~ we married.  We were together in the sight of God.  At last.  Childhood sweethearts, now joined as one.  

Those early days of marriage were filled with excitement.  We started off with a piece of carpet on the floor (which we used as our bed), a couple of blankets and one pillow.  We slept fully dressed in winter, as two flimsy blankets don't keep much of the freezing damp air at bay.  Friends and family donated furniture and fittings,  and before long, we were piecing together our first nest.  We would feast on rice with onion gravy, followed by coffee and Ouma's rusks, with which we would compete to see who could soak up most of their drink.  Now and again, we would treat ourselves to a candy bar and a trip to the two Rand drive- in, where we would park the Yamaha 175 and lie under the stars, enjoying every minute of being together.  There's much to be said in building up a home together.  Building together.  Not marrying into a fully furnished, pantry well-stacked, efficiently heated home.  Doing it together.  Hard time.  This definitely bonds in a way like no other.

Before long, and just after my husband had left for a stint in the army, I discovered that I was carrying a baby; a gift from God.  Our first daughter was born with large, dark eyes and little hair - blonde fluff, as we called it. We weren't in hospital long; we wanted to be home.  The three of us were together just three weeks before my husband had to leave for a three month 'border duty' camp.  Each day, I would write to him.  Each day, our daughter would sleep in her pram next to me, while I wrote and  told her daddy of every little insignificant thing that we lived through.  And then, as the letters were completed, we would post them, hoping that there would be a return letter for us in the mail.  Letters from my husband were few and far between.  Those that we did receive were censored by army officials.......  

A year after the National Service my husband had to complete,  he qualified as a fitter and turner.  This meant more in the pay-packet and a chance to go forward in life.  We were able to buy good food and lots of it.  We were able to buy a new bed.  We were able to buy many items that we had waited so long for.  Despite our house developing into the cosy home we have long desired, it wasn't enough.  My feet were itching, just as my father's had years ago.  My husband's feet caught the same fever.  We wanted more.....

"It's the land of milk and honey...." my father would tell me, referring to the country in which we now live - Australia.  "Things are going to get worse here.  You'll have no regrets.   We'll follow you soon.  I promise." he goaded on.  

Three years later, we had packed up our home and were waiting at my parent's home for the day that great silver bird would take us to a foreign land.  My parents and brothers promised me that they would only say a 'quick' goodbye.  They lied.  The day of our departure dragged on. I felt as if my heart was about to jump out of my throat.  I ached all over; physically and emotionally.  My momma slipped a book of verses by Helen Steiner Rice under my arm, as she squeezed me and implored me to "...go now..."  I read this on the flight, as the tears streamed down my face, and my belly shook with the sobs that I tried to crush.

Time is a great healer.  It's true.  It's also amazing what the Lord has in store for each and every one of us.  His Love overwhelms me.  He hears me, oh, He hears me.  He wrapped His arms around me, through each and every one of those 'home-sickness' cries I could hold in no longer.  

Today, I have two more little (Australian) blessings that add to our family.  Another daughter and a son are the additional joys in my life.  My childhood sweetheart, my three blessings - gifts - given with love, with the responsibility to raise them for the One Who gave His Life for me.  He gave His life for me, yet still blessed me.  Me.  A sinner.  Unworthy.  I am also surrounded by my loved ones; my parents, two brothers, two sister-in-laws, two nieces.  

Oh happy day!   The Lord has filled the desires of my heart.  It took our migration to another land for us to accept the Lord's call to us.  Would we have become Christians had we stayed?  I wonder.  All I know is - I am so grateful for the salvation we have in Him now.

Praise be to God!

Tarrier

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WOW. Tarrier, I could read your stories all day long. You have led such an interesting life, and you tell it so beautifully. Do you write professionally?

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Traveller:  I was thinking the same thing!  Tarrier:  Your story left me wanting more, it was so beautifully written, with lots of depth to it.  If you haven't been published, you really should be.

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WTAH...You weren't at Hickam Air Field were you? I lived in Hawaii for four years. My Dad was stationed there.

I joined the AirForce and did my time at Vandenberg, so I'm a vet myself... we're all Air Force vets in my family.

My sister's name is Leilani, BTW...

I met my husband because he was my neighbor and I was trying to witness to him.

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Guest tarrier

Dear Star and Traveller

Thanks for the compliments and glory to God.  No, I don't write professionally at all.  Life's so full and rich.  I really do 'gab on', don't I?  Specially when it comes to heartmatters like this topic.  

Blessings to you!

Tarrier

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Tarrier, you should write, you have a gift. At least write your life stories down for your children, and for their children. They will treasure the memories in later years. My mother did that for me.

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WIP, did he ever shave his beard?

Xan - once. He had gotten a job that allowed no facial hair. Myself and my children had never seen him without full beard and moustache up to that point. It was a shock. And awful. HE was not happy about it, (understatement) so when he came out of the bathroom (looking like he was going to barf), I tried not to show my shock. He literally looked like a sheared sheep. You know how, when a sheep is first sheared, it kinda looks like hard angles??(not sure how to describe it). That is exactly what Richard looked like. I had never realized his lips looked like they did either, lol.

Thank goodness, that job didn't work out.

Now, he keeps it no more than about 3 inches. Which is still way too long for me. I'm always on him to crop it very close.

But, the hippie look is long gone. I reformed him years ago. :biggrin:

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