Paul is my Curly Fry

  What?

You know, when you go out for a quick bite and you're sitting in the drive-thru, trying to decide what you want. But there's seven cars full of hungry lunch-hour workers behind you and you're pretty sure you left your straightener on, so you quickly order your usual:  a burger and fries.

"Regular or curly?" comes that faceless voice.

Regular, of course.

It's what you get. It's your comfort zone food. It's what your mind tells you to order when you pull up to that glowing magical screen.

As you're driving away, greasy hot paper bag in hand, you quickly shuffle through your food to make sure you got exactly what you ordered - not a nasty fish sandwhich like that one time - and then you see it.

A lone curly fry. Sitting at the bottom of the bag.

Strangely, that's the first thing you eat.

It's different. It's surprisingly delicious. It makes you wonder why you haven't been ordering curly fries your entire life. This single curly fry makes you question all of your life choices up to this point.

Ok, that's a little dramatic. But for real.

I joke with Paul that I never intended to marry a farmer. Because I didn't. When I made a mental check-list of people I would absolutely not even consider, farmer made the list. Why? Because God has a sense of humor - that is literally the only reason I have.

I guess I just didn't think that I could fit the farmer's wife lifestyle. Late suppers, busy falls, early mornings, unreliable schedules, commitment to a single location.

All of that is not a natural part of me. I had these big plans of moving to New York after graduation. I intended to not have such deep roots but rather spend my time jetsetting and seeing the world from the view of a carry-on. I really didn't even think I would get married til I was in my late 20's or even 30 (*gasp!* say all my judgey readers. Keep your panties on.)

But then my curly fry came along, and he was different. I was drawn to this man in a way that I couldn't explain and didn't understand. I had dated other men (boys) before Paul. I thought that I knew what love was. There was even a time when I was convinced I was going to marry a different boy - we'll call him George - just because we had been together for a while. He was safe. A regular fry, if you will. And marriage was the next logical step, right? I remember a conversation with my sister during my George period when I told her that I would probably just marry him. She asked if I knew in my heart that he was the one for me. I really didn't understand what she was asking me at the time. Did I love him? Maybe. Was I convinced deep down in my bones that he was my future husband? No, but I didn't think that was a real thing. I ignored her and continued to date George, all the while with this nagging feeling in my heart that she was right. George was wrong.

And then there was Paul. Oh my dear Paul. When I met him I knew that this "feeling" was legitimate. I knew that Elsa had been right. I texted her after leaving his house one night, before we were even dating, and I told her she was right. I told her I was going to marry this man. This farmer.

I think about where I was in life when I met Paul and where I am now. I think about all he's had to put up with, how much we've grown together, and how naive I was about marriage and about life.

And I can't help but be amazed at God's plans.

Marriage is no small decision, no matter what the media says. It's a commitment to love someone during the good and the bad, the happy and the sad. I think it's really great people say their vows while they're in this state of euphoria because let me tell you, they are dang hard to keep sometimes when real life sets in.

It's easy to love someone when times are good and there's nothing to be stressed about, but it's not much of a base to stand on. There's no support when there's no roots, and roots only dig deep when times are tough, when water is scarce. Our  roots have dug deep over the years - during those long nights when Paul stayed up with me and held my hand as I cried, when he stood by me without a second thought and chose to forgive the mistakes I've made, when I take a breath and make the effort to reply with words I won't regret, when I choose to remember that we grew up differently and his opinions are just as valid as mine. These are the times, the decisions, that grow the roots to help you through the ugly times.

And unfortunately, we're promised no shortage of ugly times. And they're tough. But I'm coming to realize, in my own heart and not just on paper, more and more that these times- these trials and temptations and tests - are God's way of ultimately pointing us back to Him. I know that God placed Paul in my life because he was different than me and I than him. Through all of the setbacks we've had, through our differences and difficulties, through the roots we've grown and the love we've committed to, we've both come to a greater realization of just how utterly amazing our God is. He's shown us glimpses of forgiveness, love, empathy, and wisdom. All the while allowing us to learn more about each other and fall deeper in love. I see now that what I thought I wanted in a man paled in comparison to what I got. And that if I had to do life with anyone else by my side, it would be a hell of a lot tougher.

If you had told me six years ago what choosing that blue-eyed, brown-haired boy would bring to my life, I'm not sure what I would

have said. I'm not sure if I would have been able to handle it, but I think that's why God eases us into our lives and doesn't us show

us what the future holds. Instead, He holds our hands and helps us walk up the mountain, one step at a time.

Today, I'm thankful for curly fries. For people or situations that I wouldn't necessarily have chosen, but that have given me the greatest joy and a deeper understanding of my Father. I'm thankful for a God who nudges us out of our comfort zones and into something so much better. And I'm thankful for my farmer. My quiet, generous, faithful, always forgiving, curly fry.