So since I couldn’t quite pull off being the June Cleaver of St. Joseph, MO, I decided to try my hand at gardening. Nothing too strenuous the first year; just a tomato plant ($1.50 at Walmart) and a few flower seeds (that only cost $.75 at Walmart—who cares what kind they were; they looked pretty on the outside of the packet). Read ended up sticking the tomato plant and the flower seeds in the ground for me right before we left for vacation because I was working and preparing to be gone. While visiting my in-laws on vacation, Mom Wall gave me a few columbine plants to add to my garden. I was so excited! I could almost taste the juicy, red tomatoes and smell the columbine. It was going to be a great little garden.

As soon as I could after we got home, I planted my precious columbine in the dirt, watered the whole little garden, and went inside to allow my little plants to grow. When Read got home a couple of hours later, I excitedly told him I had planted the plants from his mom. He nodded and said he could tell I’d been working out there; what he didn’t say was that he hadn’t seen a single plant other than the tomato plant that looked smaller than before. The next morning I went outside to see all of my little columbine gone and my tomato plant chewed to a nub. A bunny had found a tasty snack in the tender shoots of my garden.

I quietly prayed that Bugs Bunny would meet with a sudden and pain-free demise and tried to salvage the remnants of my garden. I saved the tomato plant by putting a little bucket around it and spreading hair clippings in the dirt to deter the bunny, but the columbine were gone. One of the six flower seeds sprouted a beautiful pinkish zinnia. I filled in the end of the little plot where the columbine had been with some marigolds, and I was gardening again.

Because the days were so hot, I found it more pleasant to do things in my little garden in the evening and even after dark. Our next door neighbors would come home around 9:30 at night to see me out puttering around in the garden with Read sitting on the porch helping, encouraging, or just chatting with me. We joked with the neighbors about me being the midnight gardener, but I knew it would all be worth it when my flowers bloomed and we had gorgeous red tomatoes. Maybe we could even share a few with the neighbors next door…just to show them it was all worth it.

We faithfully watered that little garden through the worst of the hot, dry summer. We watched with pride as the tomato plant grew larger and larger. By the first of July, it had pretty yellow blooms. I had begun planning all of the things I was going to make with the tomatoes that would come from my healthy tomato plant. It started crawling onto our driveway and into my marigolds, while weighing heavily on my zinnias, but it would all be worth it when we had those juicy, ripe tomatoes.

Six weeks later, the plant was still covered in pretty yellow blooms. It made a nice green backdrop for the rest of the garden…if you don’t mind that overgrown, jungleish look. The problem was, we hadn’t gotten a single tomato off of that plant. After doing some online research, I found out that my plant had blossom drop; the blossoms drop off before a tomato can grow from it. This can be caused by too much heat, too much cold, too much watering, not enough watering, lack of fertilizer, too much fertilizer… Well, pick your website, they had a different reason for my blossom drop. The fact was, we had no fruit from our labor.

Finally, I decided that I had had it with the tomato plant. I was tired of it looking like a runaway shrub. It no longer appeared to be a cute, friendly little shrub; it looked like a rebellious vine that wanted to take over my garden, our lawn, and our home as it defied me without fruit. I resolutely took some sheers and started pruning my tomato plant. It was great therapy (and only $1.50 from Walmart). I cut back that mass of green with a vengeance, telling myself that the folks in the neighborhood probably hadn’t even noticed my failure at growing the simple fruit. As I clipped and shaped, I had myself convinced that most folks would think it was just a bush that had needed a bit of trimming. After all, it had some pretty yellow flowers on it, and it was right there with the rest of my plants. I finished pruning and plopped down on the porch steps next to Read to admire my work. Surely no one would notice the mishap in my garden; they would simply admire my success at growing flowers.

Just as I had convinced myself that I had squeaked by without notice, our neighbors pulled into their driveway and began unloading their car. We exchanged pleasantries with them and wished them a good evening. Just as the fellow was walking inside, he nodded to me and said, “Have you gotten any tomatoes off that plant yet?”

Author’s note: I wrote this post about six months after we were married. The facts are true, and my handsome husband is still wonderful.

First let me say, I love being married!! It is so much fun to have such a wonderful husband to do things with, discuss things with, not to mention having my best friend to share every aspect of my life with.

I’ve always known I would be the perfect wife. I was going to be the June Clever of St. Joseph, MO (minus the heels and pearls). Cooking, cleaning, laundry, always having a meal on the table when my husband walked through the door… It was going to be my gift to my husband to be the perfect wife in his perfect home and to always have my hair done. And I was…for the first month of marriage.

What I had not anticipated in that perfect scenario was how tired I would be after a long day of work. I also had not figured in the difficulty of finding time to be with my husband, who was going to school full time and working part time, since I got off work at five and he went to work at six. Most evenings I would race home, snarf down my dinner with Read, send him off to work, and spend the next four hours while he was at work furiously unpacking, cleaning, and cooking for the next evening. Then when Read got home at ten, we would spend an hour or two together talking about our day and unwinding.

This schedule was working just fine until my body shut down. Apparently my human body cannot survive on five or six hours of sleep every night while working full time and being the June Clever of St. Joseph, MO. I remember getting up on a Friday morning and feeling chilled. It was a cool day and I attributed it to the temperature outside.

That chill turned into a fever, sore throat, and flu symptoms. After seeing three doctors and taking almost three weeks off work, we finally found out I had Strep throat and Mono. I couldn’t cook, do dishes, do laundry, or do my hair. I was so weak, I couldn’t even walk around the house. Read took time off work to stay home with me and carry me around the house when necessary. It was humbling. Read took care of everything I couldn’t do and never complained. He cheerfully cleaned all the bathrooms and took over the cooking, dishes, and laundry.

Now, almost six months later, I still get tired easily and have to watch how much I do and get plenty of sleep each night. Read still takes care of doing some of the chores around the house when he has time. I’ve come to appreciate the little things in life. I appreciate being able to run up and down my own stairs without having to stop and rest at the bottom. I appreciate spending a day at work and not having to come home and go right to bed because I’m so tired. I appreciate being able to take a short walk. I appreciate being able to do things around my house.

Life is wonderful, and I wouldn’t change a thing. I’m madly in love with my husband, and I focus on spending quality time with him instead of being the perfect wife and house keeper. I’ve learned that having a happy home has very little to do with how clean your house is and a lot more to do with the harmony of a home and my husband having a happy, healthy wife.

How hard can it be to adjust to married life? I waited a long time for my prince charming to come along and sweep me off my feet. We were both mature individuals, knew where we were headed in life, and were excited for this new chapter. As we went through the courtship process and got to know one another, Read and I were in awe of how compatible we were. Doctrinally we agreed on all major issues, while still having interesting and inspiring discussions about some smaller details of the Bible. We planned the perfect wedding that went off without (much of) a hitch. Even our love languages were almost identical. We knew we were meant to be.

We returned from our honeymoon to establish our household, and begin our life of wedded bliss. I went back to my job as a hygienist, Read changed his work schedule at Walmart to evenings so he could go to school during the day, and we jumped in with a passion to our new lives.

The married people who are reading this are probably already laughing at my idealism and expectations, and those who aren’t married are wondering what the big deal is. There were definitely issues with our crazy schedules and the fact that we rarely saw one another, but that’s another story for another post.

One evening I came home from work to my handsome husband expecting to have a relaxing conversation about our respective days. I relished the evening meal with my siblings and parents at home because we discussed events of the day and unwound through conversation. Of course, my husband who was made for me would be ready to do the same. Over dinner, I mentioned a tidbit from my day, anticipating his response of engaging the conversation by acknowledging it and offering a tidbit about that or something similar about his day. Instead of what I expected, Read half nodded, stared at me in silence for a few seconds expectantly, and then began sharing with me a doctrinal issue that he had been wrestling with. He didn’t stop sharing about this issue until it was time for bed. Even when I mentioned other subjects that captured my attention, he politely acknowledged them and went right back to his one-sided doctrinal discussion. This continued until 10:30 when we went to bed. I felt confused and disillusioned; wondering when he was going to ask about my day and give me an opportunity to share. I also wondered why he kept harping on doctrine, theology, and kung fu without sharing anything about his day; after all, I knew that was what drew a family together.

This went on for several weeks, and I was getting desperate. We finally talked….numerous times. After much discussion, prayer, and a few tears on my part and long sighs on his part, we made a great discovery: Our families’ communication styles were light years apart. My family took a gentler and encouraging approach to conversations, working to ask questions and include everyone in the topic of discussion. We also liked to talk about the events of our day and the people that we had encountered, the lessons learned, the opportunities to share the gospel, etc. Read’s family catered toward intense discussions of doctrine, theology, etc. Read found discussions about the day and interactions with people tedious and unnecessary; better to skip the details and jump straight into the lessons learned and practical application. Ironically, all of those evenings that I was waiting for him to ask me questions so I could share about my day, he was expecting me to jump into the conversation and start talking; no invitation required.

A compromise was necessary! And I was a Wall, after all; it was time to embrace life outside my comfortable box. I became bolder about introducing my own items of interest into the conversation. I started looking for spiritual discussion topics from my daily Bible reading that would spark Read’s interest and some doctrinal discussions. Read began taking note of the tedious goings-on of his day and his interactions with people to share with me.

As a side note, the first time I watched Read’s family have one of their intense discussions, I got a little scared that relationships were being strained or even ruined as they spoke loudly and harshly to one another and relentlessly interrupted each other. When the discussion concluded, everyone seemed nonplussed and went back to their respective phone, tablet, or computer in silence. I looked around exhausted, wondering when they were going to work through the hurt feelings and harsh words that had been exchanged. When I later voiced my concerns, Read grinned and said, “Oh no, honey. You just experienced a good old Wall family discussion. Everyone enjoyed it immensely.”

The last time several members of Read’s family were at our house, another family discussion began and escalated to loud voices and interruptions. I smiled, relaxed, and prepared to jump in and join the debate when I had something to say, because I am now, after all, a Wall.

This is the story of how Read and I met, trusted, the Lord, and fell in love.

Betsy’s story:

A couple of years ago, I went to St. Louis to visit one of my best friends, Abra. I had been to visit her a few times before this and gotten to know a few of her friends from church. One of the guys at her church had mentioned several times that he had a brother named Andrew. Every time he talked about this brother, I envisioned a five-foot-tall, squeaky twelve-year-old. But that day in February, 2009, when I visited Grace Baptist Church, I met Read Wall, a six-foot three, godly man with a bass voice who was fun to visit with and gave everyone the latitude to be themselves.

Over the next year-and-a-half, I continued to visit Abra in St. Louis, and saw Read when I was there. Although I really enjoyed his company and admired his walk with the Lord, I was not romantically interested in him. I just appreciated a guy who was a gentleman and who understood me and who thought the same way I did; who honored God and didn’t compromise. Our friendship grew as we spent time together and got to know one another better as friends. I came to appreciate Read’s walk with the Lord, honorable conduct, and great sense of humor.

Then in the spring of 2010, Read came through St. Joe for a wedding. He asked to stop by the farm and see the cows. I thought it was a great idea. I showed him around the farm, introduced him to the members of my family he had not met, and served him dinner. After the meal, we went to my grandparents to visit, where Read patiently looked at pictures of our extended family and asked questions about different members. I couldn’t imagine this being interesting for him, so I turned to him and said as much. Instead of contradicting my statement, he just smiled and winked. At that moment, I realized that the feeling I got when I was with Read was much more than “just friends.” After Read’s visit, my dad pulled me aside and told me that he really liked Read and if I wanted to like him, too, that was fine with him. I started praying that if it was the Lord’s will, He would work a miracle, and this amazing guy might be interested in me in return.

I took every opportunity that summer to “visit Abra” in St. Louis. As it turned out, I went in May, June, and July. My visit over the Fourth of July ended with me meeting Read for lunch on my way out of town on July 5th. I hoped this was a good sign.

In August, 2010, Read was in St. Joe to do a Kung Fu demo talk at my church. On Saturday afternoon, several of us were together at the park walking on the trail and visiting. At one point, he and I were talking as we walked, and I was thrilled to have his full attention; then he turned to me in the midst of our conversation and said, “Don’t worry, Betsy, someday the right guy will come along for you.” My heart sank as I took this to mean that he was not interested in anything more than being just friends.

A couple of weeks went by, and I prayed about my future and the prospect of being single the rest of my life, because I couldn’t think of anyone I liked and admired more than Read, and he obviously was not interested in being more than friends because of what he told me that day in the park. I was praying about it while on a mission trip to Armenia. Right there in my hotel room, God told me that He would eventually bring the right guy into my life and when He did, it would be better than anything I could have ever imagined. I thanked the Lord and reminded them that I had a great imagination. The Lord told me He was well aware of this because He had given me my imagination.

In October, Read said he had some vacation time coming and intimated he would like to come back to visit the farm. Still happy to have him visit, I told him he was welcome, and asked what he wanted to do. He mentioned feeding calves and listening to howling coyotes. In November, Read came back to St. Joe to “visit the farm, feed the calves, and hear the howling coyotes.” The poor guy has yet to feed a calf and only recently got to hear howling coyotes, but he did express an interest in getting to know me better as more than just friends. He had asked for my dad’s permission to pursue a courtship relationship with me several weeks before, and was using the calves and coyotes as an excuse.

We’ve had a wonderful time getting to know each other. Lots of laughter and long talks. Then six months after he reassured me that someday the right guy would come along for me, he asked me to be his wife around that same spot in the park. It’s been like a real-life fairy tale.

The rest of the story… When I asked Read about his comment in the park last summer, he explained that he knew I was special and that the Lord had the right guy out there for me, he was hoping at the time it was him, but he was not ready to state his intentions. He was just trying to be encouraging but keep me from guessing he was interested in being more than friends. Well that part worked. When I explained early in our courtship that his statement that day had dashed my hopes and dreams, he apologized and said he would need to do something special in that spot to make up for it. I guess he did, and our journey together has been better than anything I could have ever imagined!

Read’s story:
Here is my side of the story! I have to give a little background first. I went to school in Saint Louis, and I lived with my brother Jason, but we went to different churches. When I graduated from college, I returned home to assist my parents with the care of my Grandmother. I lived there for 3 years and then felt the Lord calling me to return to Saint Louis to pursue my future as a kung fu teacher… I thought. My brother Jason was very excited about my return to the big city and was equally excited to hear that I was going to be attending church with him at Grace Baptist Church. Over the period of time with my parents after graduation, the Lord taught me a lot of lessons about following Him without fear and giving people the latitude to be themselves. I found a great peace in my walk with the Lord and my sense of identity.

I had only been at Grace for 2 weeks when we had a visitor in church — Betsy. I still remember the first time I saw her. I was still sitting with my brother near the front of the church, and I happened to look over my shoulder when she was walking down the aisle to the front of the church to sit on the “other” side of the church with her friend Abra. I was captivated. I thought to myself that this was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. My exact thought was “Wow! This is gonna be a problem.” I spent the whole rest of the service doing two things: 1 trying desperately not to stare at her, and 2 debating whether I should even go and talk to her. Quite frankly, I was intimidated. Finally, I decided that fear was a stupid reason not to do something and I went over to say hi. Much to my continued sense of awe, I found her to be very friendly and fun to talk to as well… ”This is definitely going to be a problem.” I thought.

Over the course of the following year-and-a-half, Betsy continued to make periodic trips to Saint Louis to visit Abra and I continued to have the opportunity to get to know her better. I grew even more convinced that she was an awesome person, but from that first day I had clamped down on my feelings until I had a clear direction from God about what to do with those feelings. At the time I didn’t feel like it was the time to pursue a relationship, and I definitely did not know Betsy well enough to want to pursue one with her… yet. So I was very cautious, and made sure I did nothing to broadcast any signals to her.

In March of 2010, Peter Hodges, one of my kung fu students requested that I ride with him to Maryville, MO, to a wedding of his friends, and since I was in the neighborhood, I arranged to drop by “The Cornelius’.” At this time, I was not pursuing Betsy, nor did I have intentions in that direction, but my mind kept going back to that first meeting… and hoping. I was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable I felt with her family, and even visited with her grandparents later that evening. It was this trip that began my thinking, very carefully, in the direction that maybe, just maybe, it might be possible that Betsy was the one for me.

Over the next few months, Betsy continued to come to Saint Louis to “visit Abra.” She came in May, in June, and in July. Each trip, I enjoyed her visit even more and found myself looking forward to the next one just a little more than the last. In June, she and Philip (another friend from her church) came on the weekend that I did a kung fu demo talk in my church’s evening service. Unfortunately they were not able to stay and see it, so Philip arranged for me to come and do one at their church in August. I was thrilled, for multiple reasons. In July, she was able to come for the Fourth and stay the whole weekend. This was the weekend that the Lord gave me clarity about how I felt about her — while we were playing frisbee. Needless to say, that frisbee is special to me now. On her way out of Saint Louis on Monday, the 5th, we arranged to meet for lunch since she was passing right by my work. Both of us were prayerfully testing the waters to see what would happen. Neither of us knew at the time that the other one was doing the same thing.

Then in August, Peter and I came to do the demo talk in her church. Peter went to visit with his friends in Maryville while I visited with Philip and Betsy and her sister Heidi. During the afternoon, we all went on a walk through the park. I noticed that Betsy was looking at Heidi who was talking to her boyfriend on the phone and I said, “Don’t worry Betsy, some day your guy will come along.” I had no real clue how she understood this, but I knew it would be better for her to think I was not interested in pursuing a relationship than to think that I was attracted when I was not ready to reveal my interest to her. I also knew that God had someone special in mind for her… I was hoping it was me!

Upon my return to Saint Louis after the very successful demo talk, Abra informed me that Betsy would be open to discussing the matter of a relationship with me if I was interested… and if I wasn’t I had better be careful!! A warning I appreciated greatly. After much prayer about how to go about things, I finally called Betsy’s dad (with some help from Abra, who turned out to be a very willing co-conspirator) and asked his permission to talk to Betsy about courting her. When I finally had an opportunity to talk to her about this,I think I had her from, “I called your dad…”

Things progressed rapidly, and we talked everyday through virtually every medium… text, chat, calling, I even wrote letters! In March of 2011, the Lord worked a miracle and moved me to the Saint Joseph Walmart. While walking with Betsy along that same spot where I had “dashed her hopes” in August, I proposed and she accepted. I was right, someday her guy did come along, and much to my delight, it was me!!!