Those who know me understand that my mind works very, very quickly. I can go from one thought to something completely different in a matter of moments, all through a rapid stream of consciousness that connects those thoughts together. Today, when Emily was telling me about her job and her frustrations with it, I thought back to the fact that she was so excited when she was hired, that it just seemed like the greatest opportunity. All of the things that she was telling Meghan and I about: what the job entailed, what the people were like, where they wanted to be in the near future; it all fit what she was looking for. It was almost as if she was meant to be there.
In thinking back on this, it made me remember that I am a firm believer in fate, or destiny, or Divine Providence, whatever your fancy is. In short: everything happens for a reason. Nothing is an accident. Nothing is wasted. Emily getting that job, as much as it may wear on her, happened for a reason. Whether that's to learn what she doesn't want, to meet someone, to get a little extra money here and now to afford something, or whatever, there's a reason that she was hired there. In realizing that this was my committed approach, I began to wonder why. Why do I believe this? Why do I think that everything happens for a reason?
My mind immediately went to my wife, Meghan. The way that we met, the timing of it, the circumstances that led to it, they were all incredibly providential. This Story Sunday, in short, will be the reverse order of events that led to Meghan just dating. The whole "me going to Texas for training" story is an entirely additional chapter that requires it's own separate Story Sunday to document.
I'm born to Randy and Jennie Berry. Meghan is born to W. Chester and Kate Bell.
Seventeen some-odd years later, for one of the very few times my Dad and I did anything alone together when I was younger, we went to "Promise Keepers" in Jacksonville, FL. The event itself was forgettable. What I'll never forget was somehow getting lost around downtown, and in the midst of us talking about where I'd want to go to school, seeing a giant "Liberty University" billboard standing alone like a beacon in the night. I said, "maybe there."When considering college options, I asked our guidance counselor if we could arrange to see Liberty University. I also had several other brochures of colleges that I was interested in, and we ended up scheduling a whirlwind college tour with myself, Quentin, JOE, Levi, Anthony, and Jake as our driver. We went to six colleges in about ten days.
We visit Piedmont College. None of us ever considered going here. It was just fun that they put us up in a house where we ended up having fajitas and playing video games.
We visit Toccoa Falls College. Everyone loves the atmosphere, hates the rules. I'm secretly thinking about staying. I love it.
We visit Lee University. Everyone loves it. The tour guide and I wear the same shirt. I don't know whether I should be embarrassed that another grown man and I are wearing the same shirt, or feel cool because I'm wearing a shirt that they wear at college. I feel embarrassed.
We visit Gardner-Webb University. My host has a spider bite on his face. We do not consider Gardner-Webb University. We get lots of free stuff, including a t-shirt and a frisbee.
We visit Campbell University. We're gone within two hours.
We visit Liberty University. It's huge. It's got everything. We see two hockey games and want to see Jeff Smale smoking fools and slamming them into the glass as many times as possible. I decide that while Liberty was the spark for this trip, I don't want to go there. I want to go to Toccoa.
I go to Toccoa. I realize a couple months in that while I like most everyone who goes to the school, I'm not a fan of the rules. While in my first semester there, I visit my best friend from high school, Ryan Earnhardt, where he went to college: Florida State. It's an impulsive trip and I end up spending the weekend. I love it. I absolutely love it. Within weeks I'm planning a transfer once the year is through.
I transfer to Florida State. My orientation is scheduled for June 5-6, 2003.
I'm a part of the orientation group under "Be" for all those whose last names begin with "Be." I introduce myself as Carder, but tell everyone that they can call me the C-Man. A handful of people laugh. A particular cute and petite redhead, however, doesn't.
After the brief campus tour, I ask if anyone's parents hadn't already bought them lunch. No one responds. I ask again, and the cute, petite redhead says she'll go with me. Her name is Meghan. I find out later her parents had bought her lunch. We have a fantastic meal over Chik-Fil-A and she tells me the crazy story about her going to prom in the back of a U-Haul. She has my attention. We're both in love with watching Comedy Central Presents all day. Now I'm smitten.
I save Meghan a seat at the bad juggler/motivational speaker later in the night. Before the show, I'm looking all around for her, wondering where she is. I find out years later that she was taking a nap, and her parents made her get up and come to the speech. I buy three of the garnet and gold colored juggling balls and hand her one. She thinks I stole them. She puts the one I gave her back. I now have two juggling balls, and after explaining to her that I purchased them legally, she agrees to take one and keep it. She's kept it ever since.
I ask Meghan if I can use her phone to call my friend, Earnhardt, to come pick me up. We drive her back to her dorm, and I try to call her later that night from his phone since he had her number on the caller ID. I called about four times. She never answered. She didn't have voicemail yet either. It's probably best she didn't come over for poorly made smoothies.
I see Meghan the next day at lunch, eating in the Union. I sit on the ground so I can be near her. I can't tell if she wants me around or not, but I don't care. I walk her to the Thagard (or maybe she walks me, I can't remember) Health Center and we part ways. This is the first time she notices how cute I am.
We meet again later for an instructional session about how we're supposed to register online for classes. She sits behind me. I turn around in my chair and distract her the entire time. This is planned. I understand how online registration works, I'm a sophomore transfer. She doesn't. When it comes time to actually register, she now needs help. I've registered in record time and swoop in to the rescue. Plan: success.
I meet her parents and brother at the orientation "finale" send off. They had just commented on some other girl that she knew coming with a boy to the event. Meghan walks in with me. They pray that I'm Catholic. I'm not. When we all walk out, I don't get her number, I don't get her e-mail, I'm just concerned about whether I should shake her hand, hug her, or what. We high five. It's incredibly awkward. I doubt we'll ever see each other again.
I get home to Palm Bay, and within two hours, my Mom and Dad ask me if I want to go on a trip with them to Daytona Beach. I still, to this day, don't know why they wanted to go, but I do know that I just met a girl from there, and I would love the chance to see her again. I call Earnhardt. He gets her number for me off his called ID. Luckily he hasn't called too many people between now and when I left Tallahassee. I call Meghan and she has a hard time understanding who I am. Finally it registers, and we set a date for the next night to just hang out. We end up going mini-golfing. She wears khaki shorts and a light purple Volcom Stone shirt. This is one of the handful of times I can remember what she's wearing apart from our wedding day. It's one of the best dates I've ever been on. Ever.
We exchange "AIM" screen names and spend the next month talking on the phone and chatting online. She tells me later that she used to get caught smiling on the other end. My sister tries to intimidate her over the phone. It doesn't work. She falls in love with her too. I'm incredibly charming over text, despite some of my bad suggestions for future child names. She invites me to spend July 4th with her and her family.
That day is for us, and us alone.
Meghan and I agree to start dating. The rest is history.
Looking back, you can see how many random, seemingly insignificant things happened for us to simply meet and start dating. An incredible amount of pieces had to fall into place for all of that to transpire, and I have absolutely zero doubt that it was all just coincidental. If we both didn't have names that started with "Be," if I didn't see that Liberty sign and end up going on the college road trip, if I didn't spend a year wasting away in Toccoa, if she didn't agree to go to lunch with me, if I didn't distract her during "how to register" class, if my parents didn't go on that mini-cation, if I didn't use her phone to call Earnhardt... it would have all fallen apart. You can't deny that. It's incredible.
That... is why I believe in signs. Even the literal ones.
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