This blog reads from top to bottom.  The "chapters" are all backdated so they will appear at the end and so a person can arrive on this blog and begin reading chapter one on the first page. 

There are 28 "chapters"so far.  You can start reading from the beginning just below this post, or you may skip from chapter to chapter using the links on the left sidebar.

There will be more chapters.  I'm not finished writing the story.
It takes time.  Be patient.  But it's worth it.  :)
Don't forget to check out the Slideshow of photos also.  

Chapter One: Introduction

Mrs. Huber had a little plastic birthday cake that she kept hidden in our Sunday school classroom.  She would get it out when one of us kids had a birthday.  It was white and it had places where she could put real candles in it. I remember looking forward to her class for the sole reason that if, perchance, someone in our class had an impending birthday, we would get to see the plastic cake.  

I’m sure Mrs. Huber taught us some great lessons from the Bible, but her smiling face and that amazing plastic cake are my fondest memories of my early Sunday school years.  I don’t remember the toys.  I don’t remember the specifics of the lessons, though I'm sure they impacted me.  I don’t remember the other kids in my class.

There was, however, a little boy in my class who somehow remembers me.  To this day, he talks about "a little girl with reddish hair and freckles who always squinted her eyes when she smiled."  He also remembers going home from Mrs. Huber’s Sunday school class and telling his mom that he’s “Gonna marry that Kelly Jones girl.”

Bless my soul, he did.

What follows is our story...

Chapter Two: Bad Teeth

“Joey has bad teeth.  He should really get braces.”

These were the first thoughts I remember having toward Joey.  We were in fifth grade.  We’d been at the same church since age three, but somehow my memories of him don’t begin until elementary school.

Oh yes.  Elementary school.  Good times.  I went to a small private school where my best friend Katie and I used to spend every moment of the day being...well...elementary age girls. There's no other way to put it. We giggled a lot.  We played games at recess.  We took turns being captains of our tremendously uncoordinated cheerleading squad.  We sat together at chapel.  We had sleepovers.  We shared secrets.  We fought over whose Cabbage Patch doll was the best.

And... We talked about boys.  I always liked to point out how they all stunk so bad after coming inside from outdoor recess.  She always liked to point out who we should like.  “I like J.D.  You should like his best friend Chris,” she would say.  “He has red hair and freckles sort of like you.  Oh!  And you should get braces like him because then if you kiss, your teeth will get stuck together!!”  

I desperately wanted braces.  Or a retainer.  Or anything that would make me look “cool” and more grown up.

I was so not grown up.  Physically, I was very much a late bloomer.  Mentally...well, mentally I wasn’t the sharpest tack in the toolbox.  (Or so I thought.)  I got put in the “slow” reading group early on in elementary school so I grew up thinking I was dumb. Unbeknownst to me, I read just fine but my nerves and shyness prevented me from proving it when it came to reading out loud.  Alas, I was in junior high before I realized I was actually somewhat intelligent.  Go figure.

Spiritually, I might have shown a bit more maturity.  My parents loved the Lord and took steps to ensure I did as well.  We would have family devotions and read Bible stories together every night.  We would also pray together.  I remember my parents encouraging me, even as a little girl, to start praying for my future husband.  

Back in those early days, my prayers for him mainly revolved around requesting that he be handsome and taller than me, that he would love God, and that he would maybe someday let me have a horse.  (I may have had an obsession with horses in elementary school.)  I guess, in reality, I was quite immature in this area as well.

But even if maturity alluded me, I was almost nearly 98% sure that maturity could be bought...in the form of braces.  That way, I would at least look mature.  And the whole idea of getting stuck in a kiss with a boy - THAT was fascinating!

And these were the thoughts swirling in my brain one Sunday when I showed up at church and noticed the tall, dark and handsome boy named Joey from across the room.  At some point, he must have smiled at me.

“Joey has bad teeth.  He should really get braces,” I thought.

No doubt, I went home again that night and prayed desperately to God that I could get braces too.

Chapter Three: Special Kisses

I never got those braces.  This may have contributed to the end of my fantasies about getting stuck in a kiss.  Something else about kissing kept popping in my mind though.  It was something my dad shared with me numerous times over the years.  He would kiss me goodnight and often say something like, “You know Kelly, your kisses are special.  Don’t give them away to just anyone.”  

My dad walked on water in my eyes.  I had no reason to doubt his words.  So even as I entered the hormone engulfing years of junior high, his words rang true in my ears.

As luck, or fate, or (let’s call it like it really is) God would have it, I ended up switching schools my seventh grade year and found myself at the same school as Joey.  We held the same group of friends.  As is the case in junior high, everybody “goes out” with everyone else at some point or another simply by checking the yes box in a note written “Will you go out with me? Check yes or no.”  

That first year of junior high, I was chosen to be a part of the homecoming court.  My escort that year was Joey’s best friend, Jeremy.  Joey tells me that he (to this day) remembers being jealous of Jeremy that night.  I probably wouldn’t believe him if it weren’t for the fact that Joey was asked to be the escort for the homecoming attendant the following year and I remember burning with jealously almost as red as the cumberbund he wore that night.

Besides seeing Joey at school each weekday, I saw him at church each Sunday.  Junior high is when the fun starts at church.  My parents were junior high youth sponsors, so I had been an observer of their activities for years, but now I got to be a part of the fun.  Pizza parties, retreats, lock-ins, games - I loved all of it.  

I also got to be a part of a discipleship group for the first time in junior high.  I’ll never forget my first discipleship group leader.  Her name was Kathy.  One night, she asked us to write on a 3x5 card some answers to some odd questions.  “How much time each day do you spend eating? sleeping? doing homework? watching television?”  The questions went on and on.  The last question finally came. “Now how much time each day do you spend personally with the Lord?”

Ouch.

I didn’t really.  Prayers before meals and family devotions really didn’t count.  Of the twenty-four hours in my day, I spent more time doing just about everything else BUT spending time with God.  That got to me.  That night, I resolved to change this.  The habit of having a daily quiet time between just me and God became a regular part of my day.

Joey and I were never “going out” with each other during junior high.  We were around each other a lot though.  I remember one time when our entire group of school friends went to the state fair together.  I had recently checked “yes” on a note from a boy named Brad and agreed to be his girlfriend.  Joey was “going out” with a girl named Rachel at the time.  

Brad made it well known to our group of friends that night that he planned to kiss me.  I was completely put out by the thought of this.  I had no intention of allowing Brad to “steal” one of my kisses.  After all, my kisses were special and I knew it.  (Thanks dad!)  He tried to sit next me on a couple of rides, but I scooted as far away as possible.  Needless to say, I broke up with him before the night was over. 

Joey, on the other hand, had given his girl Rachel a kiss on the cheek before calling it a night.  He recalls it being the most awkward, forced kiss of all time.  She broke up with him shortly after that.

Chapter Four: Popping Bubbles

With only eight weeks remaining in our eighth grade year, the private school we were attending abruptly decided to close its doors.  This presented many parents, including mine, with a conundrum.  Should they send me to another private school? Public school?  Home school?  

I was rather shy and quiet.  In this sense, I was the opposite of both my older sister and younger brother.  April was three years older than me.  She was outgoing, loud and fun.  And even though this school switch happened just before her senior year, she seemed eager to attend public school for the first time.  

Kyle was two years younger than me and had the same personality as my father.  He had never met a stranger in his life.  As a sixth grader, he was short for his age but he exuded a rare confidence wherever he went.  People were drawn to him and he made friends easily.  Kyle already attended public schools since my parents started him at the beginning of his sixth grade year.

Soon the decision was made.  I would join Kyle at the public middle school for my last quarter of eighth grade.  This thought scared me but excited me at the same time.  None of my old friends would join me at this new school, including Joey.

Being the “new girl” had its perks, but I didn’t see them right away.  I knew a few people from our neighborhood, but not many.  I distinctly remember locking myself in a bathroom so I could cry one day.  As it turned out, my eyes leaked a lot that first week.  Eventually, however, I seemed to find my niche.  

For the first time in my life, I was introduced to honors classes (which I loved), blatant unbelievers (who shocked me) and an academia that did not revolve around the Bible, strict dress code rules and small class size.  This presented me with two options.  Do I embrace my new freedoms and dive headfirst into the “typical teenage” life or do I finally put some feet to my faith and stand up for something I knew in my heart was worth standing up for?

I chose the latter but it wasn’t always easy.  Sometimes I found myself telling God it would be a lot easier if He provided me with a nice Christian boyfriend that could be strong with me, make tough choices with me and never let me be lonely.  I may or may not have had someone in mind for this role.  It was like I was winking at God, telling Him what I thought I needed to do the hard things that He wanted me to do.   

But the Lord kept telling me to wait.  He didn't wink back the way I wanted, but in a different way.  By the end of that school year, most the kids on our block and a few others from our bus route began coming to our house once a week for a Bible study led by my dad.  The study continued on through the summer and numerous friendships were formed.  I remember thinking maybe God had the whole school closing/switching to public school thing planned all along.  Could  He have plans for me that were bigger than the bubble I had been living in?  I wondered. 

But I also periodically kept telling Him that this new journey would be a lot more enjoyable if I had a nice Christian boyfriend.  Please, God?  (wink, wink)

Chapter Five: Purity and Passion

“Kelly, I love you.”

Who knows why he said it, but I rolled my eyes at Chris, the quarterback for our ninth grade football team.  He sat behind me in two classes that year, but he had most likely just come to class after spending the past four and a half of our five minutes between class making out with his girlfriend in the hallway.  

Some people and their flippant approach to love, I thought.  It was boys like this that turned me off.  "Love" was not a word that I believed could be tossed around lightly.  I was pretty sure I was an expert on love and romance.  In reality, my idea of love was mostly shaped by stories like Anne of Green Gables or the Christy Miller series.  No doubt, highly influenced by movies like The Man from Snowy River or Somewhere in Time as well.

Books.  Movies.  They sure tell pretty tales of romance.  But there was one book that rocked my world more than these others.  It was different.  It was the true real-life love story of missionaries Jim and Elizabeth Elliott.  It chronicled their passion for each other, yes.  But the overriding message was their intense passion for the Lord and His call on their lives.  Approaching their relationship in light of the passion they shared for God led them to choose a path in their dating relationship that was based on purity.  The name of the book - Passion and Purity.  The subsequent affect on my life - igniting my own passion for the Lord and affirming my own desire to seek to lead a life of purity.

In light of my quest for a life of passion and purity, all the relationships I saw forming and disintegrating around me seemed shallow.   I made the decision then and there that the prerequisite for any potential dates would be that the guy would have to be good husband material.

But looking around, I didn’t see anyone at my school who met this criteria.  No problem, I thought.  I’m just a freshman.  I’m not even allowed to date until I’m sixteen anyway.  I focused my attention on school, friends, the Christian group on campus, student council and my church youth group.

The youth group that Freshman year was taking off.  We had an amazing youth pastor who loved us and invested in our lives.  He planned all kinds of events so it seemed like there was an endless supply of opportunities to get together.  Joey and I seemed to attend all of these events.

The more I was around Joey, the more I couldn’t help but notice about him.  He was a leader.  He was witty and funny.  He could sing.  He could play the guitar.  He could act.  He could speak.  He could even juggle, for goodness sake.  But most importantly, he genuinely seemed to love the Lord.

By the time winter retreat came along, I had pretty much decided that Joey had the right material for a dating relationship.  When free time rolled around one evening, I decided to go in search of Joey.  I don’t know what I had in mind other than batting my eyes at him and laughing at his quick wit, but I knew I wanted to hang around him.

I had a problem though.  I couldn’t find him anywhere.  Finally, I stepped out onto one of the main balconies and noticed a few people hanging out.  I didn’t see Joey at first, but as I turned to head back inside, I noticed two shadows at the edge of the balcony, staring off into the distance and talking.  Hey!  That’s what I wanted to be doing!  I thought.

One shadow was Joey.  The other shadow was my good friend Erin.  Erin ~ the friend who was cooler, prettier and in every way more fun than me.  She was getting ready to move out of town with her family.  There were no previous hints from either of them that they had any feelings other than friendship toward each other, but something told me I would have been a third wheel if I tried to join them on the balcony this night.   

I went inside and waited for what seemed like eternity.  I may have had to force my brain to stop thinking about why the only guy I seemed to have eyes for was staring off into the distance, chatting with one of my best friends - for what felt like FOREVER.  By the time Joey came back inside, I was mad at him.

Chapter Six: Opportunity

It turns out, they were reminiscing old stories and talking about me.  Of course, I wouldn’t find this out until later.

The remainder of my freshman year, I found myself enjoying every moment at church with some of my closest friends.  We would go out for cokes after Sunday night discipleship groups or jump in someone’s car to go get ice cream after Wednesday night choir.  Joey was part of this group of friends.  I really liked him, but I didn’t know his feelings for me.  Sometimes I would catch him looking at me or watching me from across the room.  I wondered if he shared the same feelings for me that I felt for him.

I had some suspicions.  In fact, there was one night we went with our group of friends to an Al Denson concert.  Al Denson was notorious for playing songs that required hand motions and what not.  (It was 1992.  That was cool back then.  Just go with it.)  During one song, he told everyone to hold hands.  Joey grabbed my hand and held tight.  When the song was over, I dropped the hand of the person on my left and he dropped the hand of the person on his right.  I loosened my grip on Joey’s hand, but he tightened his grip.  We held hands for the next few songs.  I’m not sure, but I think the world stood still during those songs.

But nothing official was ever declared.  I still had the burning question of whether or not he really liked me.

That question was answered one Wednesday night in May.  Our youth pastor mentioned the previous Sunday that he was organizing a banquet to honor the graduating seniors that year.  He told all of us underclassmen that we were welcome to attend and support the seniors.  In passing (almost as a side note to his announcement), he mentioned that if we were interested, we could bring a date to the banquet.

I heard the announcement, but thought little of it.  My sister, April, was one of the seniors, so I would be attending the banquet no matter what.

Joey, however, heard the announcement and saw a golden opportunity.  He had actually been praying for the Lord to provide him with the opportunity and the boldness to make his feelings for me known.  He saw the chance to make his move.  I imagine he spent the days between Sunday and Wednesday making plans for exactly how and when he could ask me to be his date.

Wednesday night after church he pulled me aside and popped the question.  

“Would you be my date to the senior banquet?”

On the inside, I was doing cartwheels, jumping up and down and screaming “Yes! Yes! YES!”  On the outside, I simply smiled and said “of course!”  That smile never left my face that evening.  My feet may or may not have touched the ground as I walked to the car that night.  

I was going to go on a date with Joey.  A real date.  Then it hit me.

Wait.

I’m not allowed to date until I’m sixteen.

Chapter Seven: First Date

Joey officially wasn’t allowed to date until he was sixteen either.  But for some reason, both our parents approved of this one.  My dad’s only stipulation was that Joey had to go through what any boy who wanted to date one of his daughters went through - a man to man talk.

My dad was not the type to carry a gun or try to purposely scare off dates.  He was simply interested in finding out about Joey’s heart for the Lord and sharing with him some of his own thoughts about how to keep Christ at the center of a relationship. Sitting down with Joey at Braums one night prior to our first date, my dad explained to Joey a few simple tips about relationships.  He got out a pen and drew a triangle on a Braums napkin.  "God is at the top, Joey and Kelly at each of the bottom corners," he said.  He pointed out the importance of keeping God in the triangle/relationship and how as each person grows closer to God, they will subsequently grow closer to each other.  Then he scribbled down three questions and said "Joey, there are three questions you can ask yourself before you do anything with my daughter." 

1. What will it do to God? (Grieve him or glorify him?) 

2. What will it do to others? (Be a stumbling block or a testimony?) 

3. What will it do to me? (Build me up or tear me down?)

"You can do anything with my daughter, provided you've asked yourself these three questions and been able to answer affirmatively," he said.  Joey had heard my dad speak about these three questions in Sunday School over the years, but he treasured the truth found in them as they carried extra weight this particular night at Braums.   Years later, he would pull out a tattered Braums napkin and show my father the familiar markings of a triangle and three scribbled questions, thanking him for the wisdom.  

I remember feeling proud that my dad took the time to do this sort of thing for me but also feeling a little nervous for Joey.  In reality, Joey had nothing to worry about.  Truth be told, if my dad could have hand picked someone for me to marry, he would have picked Joey.  He actually told me so.  This, however, is not the type of thing you share with a fifteen year old guy on your first date, so I decided to keep silent about it.

April’s date for the evening picked up Joey and drove him to our house.  They pulled up in a white sports car.  I know this because I was eagerly watching from my parent’s bedroom window.  

My heart fluttered a little bit as I watched Joey get out of the car and walk to the door carrying a corsage for me.  My first corsage.  My first date.  I couldn’t help but wonder what other “firsts” were in store for me this night.

From my perspective, the date went off rather well.  Joey opened doors for me like a gentleman and frequently proved his clever wit during our conversations.  I didn’t gag or throw up when I tasted shrimp for the first time.  

From Joey’s perspective, however, this was not the first date he envisioned.  Having to hitch a ride with April and her all too cool date made Joey feel inferior, young, and silly.  Sharing our first banquet together surrounded by our peers, our pastors, and not to mention our parents, made Joey feel like we were being watched and oohed and aahhed over.   No.  This was not the first date he had in mind.

As he dropped me off from that first date, Joey felt deflated.  His ego was low.  He felt a bit silly.  Although I wasn’t privy to any of these thoughts going through his mind, I knew one thing.  I knew I liked this guy named Joey.  So there, on my front porch, I thanked him.  I told him that I had a very nice time and I was glad he asked me to be his date for the evening.  Then I did something unlike me.  I stepped forward and reached out to hug him.  He responded quickly by hugging me back.  It wasn’t a long hug, but I felt him take a deep breath.  

When the hug concluded, I stepped back and looked at him.  It was a look of excitement mixed with trepidation.  We both knew something special had just happened.  Awkwardly, we both said goodbye at the exactly the same time, laughed, and then went our separate ways - me to the house, him to the car. 

Joey was taller as he walked out to the car where April’s date was waiting to drive him home.  He no longer felt silly or inferior or young.  He had just taken the girl of his dreams out on their first date.  This was the girl he had liked for a very long time.  And now, based off that hug she just initiated and the look in her eyes, he had the sneaking suspicion that she liked him too.

Chapter Eight: Snail Mail Letter

Our freshman year ended and summer began with a fury.  Our youth pastor had this huge summer trip planned for the youth group where we would be traveling all the way up to the east coast doing a play at a number of different churches along the way.  This required lots of rehearsal time.  I was in the choir and had a small role in the play, so I attended numerous rehearsals.  Joey actually got the lead role in the play as well as some solos so his schedule was rather busy.  We didn’t often get a ton of time to talk or hang out during these rehearsals, but I didn’t mind.  I was happy just to be in the same room with him.

He really was a gifted actor.  And man, that guy could sing!  I loved watching him during rehearsal.  The only problem was that his character in the play had to fall in love with another character in the play.  This would be perfectly fine if the character his character fell in love with was played by me.  But alas, it was not.  It was played by an older, drop-dead gorgeous girl in our youth group.  His affections for her were all in character and ended as soon as the director yelled “cut,” but it was still hard to watch.  

It was especially hard to watch him sing a solo to this girl. The song was “Only One” by James Taylor.  Each time he sang that song to her in rehearsal, I found myself wishing that she would get drastically ill all of a sudden and they would need a stand-in (i.e. me) to fill in for her role.  I desperately wanted Joey to sing that song to me.

A number of weeks before our scheduled departure for this tour, I got a letter in the mail.  It was from Joey.  It was odd that he would send me a snail mail letter when we saw each other nearly every other day at rehearsals or church.  A snail mail letter meant one of two things:  1) really bad news or 2) really, really good news.  I had a fluttering feeling in my stomach this was the really really good news type of letter.  I was right.  I opened it and read:

Dear Kelly, 

I feel awkward in writing this letter to you, but due to the recent changes in schedule at church, I feel it is the only way -right now - to say such things.

I wanted you to know that what I have to say to Rushabi - in the play - is extremely difficult for me to say.  “I would only say those things about you - you’re the only one.” (a line from the play) Sorry, I don’t have a lot of experience in writing - that may have sounded a little cheesy.

I also wanted to know if my sudden interest in you has made you uncomfortable in any way.  Such as my sitting next to you at just about anything or our long but ever so short good-bye’s.  (Sorry, I’m starting to wax poetic.) The last thing that I want is for you to feel annoyed by me.  I ask this not to question your honesty - God forbid - but it is merely that you have such a sweet personality, I cannot imagine you to be annoyed by anyone.  But in the most sincere way I need to know this.  Like I said before, I would rather be turned down by you than you having to quietly endure my company.  I just want you to be happy.

By the way, I would have asked you out on countless dates - but my parents won’t let me until I’m 16.  So, are you busy September 14th? (his 16th birthday)

I just re-read the last paragraph and it seems to be just a little chauvinistic - I apologize - it must have been that my male ego took a big risk.... but I’m told that it’s usually rewarding to take the risk.

Love, 

Joey

II Timothy 1:7

Chapter Nine: A Lion

I literally turned into jello.  Well, jello if jello could do cartwheels.  I read that letter about a million times, give or take a few.  Giddiness overtook me each time I read it.  Still does.

Joey and I were like two young love birds who found each other.  We were very happy just flittering around each other and enjoying life.

But a lion was getting ready to pounce.

Her name was Lisa.  It was about a week into our youth drama tour.  She played Joey’s love interest in the play.  Due to her drop dead gorgeous-ish-ness, she easily turned heads and gained the attention of all males in her vicinity. 

All males except one, that is.  She may or may not have had a genuine interest in the affections of Joey, but she pulled out all her tricks to get his attention off the stage as well as on.  One performance night, she told Joey backstage that his stage lipstick was too dark and she tried to get him to kiss her hand to get the lipstick off.  He wouldn’t do it.  Another time she parked herself in the seat next to him on the bus and wouldn’t let him move.  He told her he really didn’t want to sit next to her.  She said, “oh, don’t worry, Kelly knows how much you like her.”  He responded by telling her that there was no way that I could know how much he liked me.  This must have really boiled her blood because she doubled her efforts after that.

The next time she got on the bus, she traded seats with someone to sit next to Joey again.  Then she instantly fell “asleep” and “accidentally” let her head fall onto his shoulder.  It was getting ridiculous, but I could do nothing to stop it.  Lisa had mastered the art of flirting.  She was a pro at it.  I, on the other hand, had never learned how to flirt.  Based off of what I saw from her, I didn’t want to learn how  to flirt.  Not like that anyway.

Besides, we were on a ministry tour.  We were doing our play, singing, going to youth rallies and doing inner city work.  I tried to keep my mind focused on the ministry and what we were supposed to be doing on this trip, but her obnoxious and relentless attempts at flirting with my man started to get the best of me.  Up until that point, I kept everything bottled up.  But my bottles have a nasty habit of exploding if you shake them too hard at the wrong time of the month.

It was a rare night off when we didn’t have a performance.  We spent much of the evening playing games and sitting around talking or being silly.  Lisa ramped up her efforts all evening and I finally exploded.  

I tried to keep it private, so I found an empty room and cried my eyes out.  Literally.  Okay, maybe not literally, but I did cry so hard I gave myself a rash.  I questioned everything.  I questioned myself and whether I was making all of this up in my mind.  I questioned Joey, our relationship and what affect this could have on it.  And most of all, I questioned this Lisa and why she was doing this to us.

Eventually, one of the adult leaders on our trip, Mrs. Biggs, found me.  Every youth group needs a Mrs. Biggs.  She had the uncanny ability to provide consoling comfort where needed but still supply a good solid kick in the pants when necessary.  That is exactly what she did for me this night.

She talked to me a lot about trust and how necessary it was in any relationship.  She talked to me about not letting girls like Lisa get to me.  She knew that Joey and I had something special.  She could tell we were unique.  And not just because we abided by the “no public display of affection” rules of the trip, but because we showed maturity rare in other couples.  Because of this, she revealed to me that Joey and I were viewed by the adult leaders of the trip as the “example couple.”  

She affirmed to me that Lisa’s attempts at flirting were obvious but they were never reciprocated by Joey.  Then she leaned forward and said, “Girl, that boy only has eyes for you and it’s obvious to everyone.”  My whole body took a deep breath.

Joey found me the next morning and said a ridiculous number of sweet things.  I cried again, but these were happy tears.  Then he prayed.  It was one of those prayers that I think I’d like to ask God to replay for me someday in heaven.


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