In an attempt to kick the bah humbug out of me, I've changed my blog template to something more Christmassy.
I've also decided to do a series of posts about things that I'm thankful for. Because I know that I'm a very fortunate girl who has so many blessings.
Today my number one: my husband! I know that you don't want to be bored by me waxing lyrical about his good looks and handyman skills, so instead I'll tell you the story of how we met.
Many years ago, a school friend of mine was a member of a very popular youth group. It was well known for its social outings and as a great place to meet people. One day she came to school excited to tell us all about her boyfriend, Chris. A youth group outing to the ice skating rink was the scene of their budding romance. Of course being very excited for my friend (and a terrible busy-body) I invited myself along to church the next Sunday to meet him.
Did I know that I was meeting my future husband? Of course not!
I thought he was a pleasant enough fellow who was quite good looking but unfortunately was not much of a singer! (I sang next to him during the happy-clappy choruses.)
Fast forward a couple of years. My friend no longer attended that youth group but my brother did and I decide to give it a try. It was nearly Christmas, and the youth group planned some carolling around the streets followed by supper. I decided to tag along, and quickly found myself on the mini bus next to Chris. We chatted easily, and I discovered that in the years since I had seen him last he had gotten more good looking and even his singing had improved!
I knew exactly who he was, but he couldn't place me. "Did we meet at a bush dance?" he asked innocently.
* For the uninitiated, "bush dances" were quite popular youth group socials during the 1980's. Every Australian child suffers through PE classes learning "The Pride of Erin", "The Heel Toe Polka", "The Barn Dance" and other traditional partner dances. *
"A bush dance? No, actually I once visited the church escpecially to meet you," I replied.
And the rest is history...