Where shall we start? I suppose the best place is back in our small town of Hartwell, Georgia, where Howard and I attended the same church. Interestingly enough, his mother was my Sunday School teacher. We were often in each other’s orbit, yet we never truly noticed one another—until Howard’s senior year, the year he graduated and left for the Navy. I was just entering ninth grade, and while my parents knew we were talking, I was in a relationship at the time. That didn’t deter Howard; he pursued me with letters and thoughtful gifts.

When he came home on leave, he would visit, and slowly, our friendship blossomed into something more.

The picture you see here is from our prom in 1983. Howard returned home just to take me, and I still remember the promise ring he gave me. My grandmother, ever the skeptic, asked him, “What exactly is she promising you?” He replied, “It’s just an expression of love,” but I could tell she wasn’t convinced. As my senior year unfolded, however, my immaturity led us to drift apart. I longed for him to be present for all my special moments, but the reality of our lives began to pull us in different directions.

Two years later, I married someone else and built a life with him for 34 years, raising three beautiful children. Meanwhile, Howard joined the Marines and married, too. For nearly three decades, we lost touch—so much so that I wasn’t even sure if he was still alive, serving in the military.

Then, in 2016, out of the blue, Howard reached out to me on Facebook. It was the first time we’d communicated in years. Four years later, after my husband passed away, Howard sent his condolences and began checking in on me. Shortly after, he suffered a stroke, and suddenly, it was my turn to check on him.

Our conversations naturally turned back to what had happened between us all those years ago. We often wondered if it was a familiar spirit guiding us back together or if it was God’s hand at work. As we rekindled our friendship, Howard faced a significant challenge: an accident led to the amputation of his leg. He had to navigate a new reality, spending time in various rehab centers. Meanwhile, I had moved to Roswell, feeling led by the Lord.

Through it all, our bond deepened, and we realized our feelings had shifted from friendship to something more profound. We prayed and fasted about the direction we were heading. Then, on October 6, 2023, he proposed. I should have seen it coming; all week, he had been hinting at where I wanted to eat, encouraging me to pick a nice restaurant. I played coy, and in the end, he proposed at Waffle House—my exhaustion after work made it the most convenient choice. It was a humorous moment, and I could see the nerves dancing in his eyes.

We’ve faced our share of challenges, but through it all, God has remained faithful. He is restoring Howard and growing me in ways I never imagined. I can truly testify to how good our Heavenly Father has been to us. Howard is a gentle soul, a loving partner, and a warrior for the Lord.

Now, we’re counting down to May 24, 2025, the day we’ll unite in marriage. We are both filled with excitement and hope, trusting in God for this reunion. May the Lord receive all the glory for our union.