So one day at the 20somethings 5:30 pm church service, my friend Vicky introduced me to a guy that “went to Baylor” (actually very normal – you’d be surprised how many Park people did) and I vaguely remember us meeting and chatting for a few minutes and then going about our business.

Months later, I passed this same guy coming out of church, having just given my testimony in front of the entire crowd. He had missed it, but called me later to say hi and did so randomly after that. Then one day, I just happened to touch this same guy’s shoulder and asked him how he was doing and that, apparently, was that. He asked me out (said he “knew” in that moment I was “the one”) and after a first date spent worrying I had enough cash in my purse to cover dinner (yes, I didn’t really believe it was a date), the rest is history.

Vann proposed to me at the Four Seasons hotel, in a suite that had been turned into our own private restaurant, waiters and all. He led me there under the guise that we were “having drinks” with a colleague of his (don’t ask me how annoyed I was that we had to do THAT on a date night)…so when he pulled out a keycard that opened a suite, I was understandably confused. It wasn’t until I saw the room filled with candles and the songs of Norah Jones that I knew the jig was up. And as I spent the night calling everyone to tell them the wonderful news (and staring at my ring, let’s be honest), he slept peacefully beside me, still in his suit, just grateful to be able to breathe again.

Four years later, we are best friends. We are TOTAL opposites; he is the practical, meticulous one – I’m the free spirit who can never find her chapstick or keys. He worries about how we’ll pay for our kids’ education – I worry about getting tickets to “Glee Live!”. He shakes his head in disbelief as I sell him on the idea that I really do need another hoodie to add to my ever-growing collection.

Love you, honey.