Some months before prom, Joey gave me a card. In it, among other ridiculously sweet things, he said this:
God, in His grace, has allowed us to become close friends, and in my opinion, gave us a responsibility to others involved in relationships to be an example of how a pure and blameless couple ought to behave. It is very important to remember this in all that we do or say. Love between a boy and girl was God’s design. He knew we would go out and become close. He also knows what is in our future, so take peace in this: “Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.” Mark 11:24 Love, Joey
To some high school seniors in our public school, prom had the reputation of not just being an evening to get all dressed up, ride in a limo, and dance the night away, but also an evening associated with wild after parties, alcohol, and sex. Our carefully chosen friends in high school were devoted Christians who, like us, believed that a fun prom night did not require inclusion of these things. Sex was something we reserved only for marriage, per God’s command. We were committed to do that. It was well understood that we would not put ourselves in any situation that would tempt us to compromise our convictions. This thinking drove our prom night plans.
Joey arrived at my house early enough for us to take pictures and go to a fancy restaurant for dinner before our arrival at the prom venue. My dress was a floor length navy blue dress. I wore it with white elbow length gloves. Joey wore a traditional tuxedo. We chose to eat dinner at a super classy place in town called “Bravo” known for a theatrical wait staff dedicated to not only serve your table, but also break out into song periodically. Kind of like “dinner and a show”, if you will. We may have been the only prom attendees that night who enjoyed this sort of atmosphere.
There were quite a few older couples at the restaurant that night. A few of them made a point to stop by our table and tell us how sweet we looked together. One man even asked if he could take our picture. We left the restaurant and made our way to the prom venue only to find ourselves something like an hour early. (Who knew prom wouldn’t start until 9 PM? Crazy. I guess we never checked the start time.)
It wasn’t a problem though, considering it gave us the chance to see all our friends arriving for the big night in the light of the lobby instead of in the dark of the dance floor. There was a lot of oohing and ahhing as people arrived. After all the ooh’s, ahhh’s, hugs, and no less than a billion pictures snapped, we found ourselves inside on the dance floor.
I think we literally danced the entire evening. Neither Joey nor I are excellent dancers (think white kids raised in church), but it didn’t matter. We had a blast. We were not only one of the first couples to arrive, but we were also one of the last couples to leave. We wanted to hold on to the night. Come to think of it, that was the theme the school had chosen for the prom - “Hold on to the night.” We did. We definitely did.
But prom, for us, wasn’t over yet. One of our close friends planned a super fun after party in the backyard of his pastor’s house. (Bless his pastor, by the way. I think the guy even had little children at the time. I hope we were not too noisy.) We all changed out of our fancy prom clothes in favor of jeans and sweatshirts. Then we sat around a campfire roasting marshmallows for s’mores. We talked, played games and hung out for a long while before calling it a night and retiring to our gender-appropriate tents. No hanky -panky allowed. I remember being thankful for friends who shared our convictions and who made it easier to resist putting ourselves into compromising situations.
From glitz, glamour, music, and dance floors to campfires, bugs, sticks, and marshmallows, we’d run the gammit this night. But we did it in a way that did not require we compromise our commitment to the Lord, to each other, or to our testimony. And it was more than fun. It was a night well held on to.
