Married in College: A Family Visit

By Emily Herring Dunn

Now that you know the condition our apartment was in, you can understand the stress that would come with a family visit.

In April Clark and I prepared for my mom and little sister to visit from Germany. They were coming for my birthday as well as my older sister’s graduation from Roanoke College in VA. We had a fun-filled planned vacation, but my mom and little sister were not prepared for Homespun Hills.

The other thing that we all weren’t prepared for?

Possessiveness.

When my mom and little sister visited, all of a sudden I was possessive of everything. After all, it was our house. I was angry when they insulted anything, upset when they didn’t consult me about their plans—even if I was in class.

The first visit of my family coming to stay with us did not go entirely as smoothly as planned.

My mom and little sister arrived shortly before my birthday. The plans we had for while they were “in town” was simply to go to the outlet stores up the mountain. Mom said she would take me on a mini-shopping trip for my birthday, and my little sister wanted me to help her pick out some clothes.

Well, the day after they arrived I left my house key with them and went to class. My mom wanted to run a few errands, and she needed the house key, obviously, to get back in.

Well, when I returned from class my mom and little sister were gone.

Clark had one key, and they had the other. Luckily, one of our windows didn’t lock, so I took my time (this wasn’t the first time) maneuvering the window to get it open and get in to the house.

I was furious.

I had told them what time I was done with class, and had thought we were going shopping when I got home. Mom said she just wanted to go here and there and would be back in time. How could they be so inconsiderate?

Between 30 minutes to an hour later they walked in carrying shopping bags.

I started spouting.

I gave them evil looks and wondered what on earth had happened. I thought we were all going shopping together. Did they forget what time my classes were over? I had to break in to my own apartment because they were out doing something we were supposed to be doing together!

After my mom explained and my little sister cried, we all settled down. However, this was only the beginning.

My birthday was on a Friday that year, but we had decided to drive to the outer banks for the weekend. We couldn’t leave until around 4, though, because Clark had to work. Though he assured us we’d get there in good time, mom didn’t know good time still meant 11:30pm.

The whole way there she muttered about his driving under her breath. It took all of Clark to keep his patience, and most of the time all of him lost.

When we first stopped for gas, and Clark asked mom to fill up, there was a conflict. Clark spilled out the how much we really had in our bank account, and then I was furious for letting my mother know how destitute we were.

Oh, how the list goes on.

While the weekend at the beach went very well, it was later that the true blow up occurred.

When we returned I had exams to take and we were going to have a “real” birthday celebration with a cake and such. While I was studying, my mom decided to invite our neighbor over for the birthday celebration. While I appreciated her thoughtfulness, I was annoyed.

I wanted my birthday to be with my family, only. After all, they were there for it—why did we have to invite our 40 year old neighbor who we saw everyday?

I started yelling.

I was yelling about my birthday, about my exams, about mom and Molly not respecting our house—everything.

I then commenced to tell our neighbor that my mom wasn’t feeling well and would he mind if we just sent over some food. My mom emerged from the apartment and started yelling at me, in front of our neighbor, telling me not to lie.

Our poor neighbor.

Clark pulled us in to the apartment and played peace maker, which was surprising because he and my mom had been complaining about each other to me just earlier that day. We then went back to apologize to our neighbor after Clark had calmed us down.

While the visit ended up being wonderful, it was a lesson-learning experience.

I learned that my mother is always going to be my mother, even in my house.

I learned that Clark and I still had a lot of growing up to do before we were ready for relatives to stay with us.

I learned that Clark and I had to establish ourselves as our own entity, our own family.

I learned that my parents, and Clark’s parents, still had a lot of accepting to do.

I learned that everything was going to take time.

I learned that everything would be OK as long as we kept putting God first.

So, this column probably isn’t as entertaining as the last few. I must say that while the visit still sticks out in my mind, I can’t remember a lot of the details. I can’t remember my exact words or my mother’s, I can’t remember Clark’s attitude before or after he played peace maker, and I can’t remember exactly all that my neighbor had to endure.

What I can remember is that we got through it. We survived the first visit of others that were to come, and I finished my first spring semester of college.

We had no idea what was on our schedules for the next year.

Married in College: Our First Easter

By Emily Herring Dunn

As April drew near during our first year of marriage, the question of whether or not to go to Fayetteville for Easter was in the air.

While we had survived our first spring break alone and had gone to Fayetteville for Clark’s grandparents’ 50^th wedding anniversary, we weren’t positive we wanted to go again for Easter.

We gave in. Easter was a big deal in my family, as it was in his, and therefore we found it necessary to visit. I had a new dress that was for my sister’s college graduation in May, so I figured I could give it a test run for Easter. Clark had a shirt and khakis to match.

We arrived in Fayetteville with the intention of not staying our entire break. Clark was lucky to get the weekend off from work, and we didn’t want to be pushy.

I had packed us up since we could only leave once he was finished with work that Friday. I even drove the whole way for the first time. It started off good.

The weekend progressed rather typically with his family. We ran errands that were necessary for us, and ran errands with or for his parents. We spent whatever time we could with them, though we had only been there a week or so earlier for the anniversary party of his grandparents.

Sunday morning suddenly arrived. As the daughter-in-law, a guest, I always seemed to have last priority to the bathroom. Luckily we were staying with his NaNa and PaPa, so I got a bathroom to myself and time to spare. Unfortunately, as it came time for Clark to be dressed, we noticed the first mistake of my packing.

Clark had reminded me to grab his khakis, which were still in a dry-cleaners bag. Well, I grabbed a dry-cleaners bag that looked as though it had khakis in it, but to my dismay it was one of my scarves. Clark tossed on his jeans and we headed to his parents’ house to see if he could fit in to his brother’s khakis or if he had a spare in his old closet.

We arrived and Clark immediately took the blame for my mistake. Lovely husband that he was to take that on his shoulders, it was not enough to stop his mother from commenting on the neckline of my dress.

“Oh, that is beautiful. Are you all taped in?”

It seems it’s always the little things that annoy me or hurt my feelings the most.

With a pair of khakis on, we were able to be fashionably late, as his family nearly always is, to church.

We arrived and I kept fiddling with the sweater I had on over my dress, unsure if it was able to hide my bare shoulders and chest. Clark nagged and said to take a look around; I was the only one “scandalously” clad for the holiday.

Although I did not get through the service without having a few older pairs of eyes giving me the disapproving look, I made it through without getting the, “oh, you’re the new daughter-in-law,” comment. The minister gave us welcoming hugs, as was normal, and told me I looked beautiful. I was thrilled.

Then, there was Easter “dunch” or “linner,” whatever you like to call it.

With my family it’s a great affair of ham, potatoe casserole, rolls, green beans—it’s almost like another Christmas dinner, but with a spring twist to it. With Clark’s family, however, it seemed too difficult to combine church and cooking together.

We went to an Italian restaurant instead.

Though the food was delicious and the conversation did revert itself to the subject of me every now and again, it wasn’t what I was used to.

I mean, Italian food for Easter? It just didn’t seem right. My mom called in the midst of us eating and when I told her where we were, she contained her laughter.

When we did our Easter baskets it was like Christmas. Candy, gift certificates, movies—you name it, and it was probably in there. I wasn’t expecting anything, and when I got so much it made me feel guilty.

Our Easter’s were never this big in the gift department. It was usually something small and meaningful; such as, one year, we each (my sister’s and me) received a cross that reflected our personal style.

Once again I was reminded that each family had their own traditions, and now that I was a part of my family, Clark’s parents’ family, and my parents’ family, I was going to have to give in to giving some things up sometimes, and twisting them at others.

When I look back on that first Easter I wonder if it would have gone smoother had I been a little more accepting. Had I laughed at his mom’s comment or not poked fun at the style of his childhood church, or complained about receiving too much in my Easter basket! Perhaps if I had just gone with the flow, it would have worked better.

Or, maybe not.

Regardless, it made me realize, moreso than Christmas time had, that I was going to have to compromise my traditions as he had compromised his. In the confusion of it all, we were forgetting the true reasons for holidays. Instead we were focusing on whose family was right and whose family was wrong.

During our first year of marriage it was so difficult for us to establish ourselves as our own family because his parents, and sometimes my parents, were always bearing down on us.

As time went on, and as time continues to pass, we have learned and are learning to separate ourselves and know that we are accountable to our family first, our parents second.

While we still get in to disagreements as to how our kids should be raised, how we should celebrate certain holidays, what church we should attend, what is appropriate and what is not—we are learning that compromise is key.

Married in College: Our First Apartment

By Emily Herring Dunn

When we first got married, it was a wonder that Clark and I could afford to live anywhere but in the dorms. I was working part time as a telemarketer for the school, and Clark was working for a photo company and part time at a coffee shop.

None of that mattered. We were determined to not settle on living in two separate buildings, let alone different rooms. So, we jumped ahead of the game and just decided we had to live somewhere, anywhere, together.

Part of our reasoning was Clark was debating on withdrawing from school. He had determined that he needed to work while we first married to support us, and his education could come later. Obviously he could not stay in his dorm room if he wasn’t attending school, so we began looking for apartments—in the middle of a semester.

You can clearly see where this is going, I’m sure.

The only apartment we found was part of a tri-plex, if such a word exists. It was a house at the top of a non-state maintained road (aka gravel full of pot holes) that had been turned in to three apartments. There were two little places upstairs, and one basement apartment. One of the top places was available, and the student who had moved out was desperately trying to find someone to take over the lease.

The only available realtor, a woman, offered to drive us up since it was “a bit tricky to get to unless you know where you’re going.” We got in to her car and chatted on the way there. The concern had been that two people really shouldn’t occupy the apartment, as it was not big enough. However, seeing that we were married, it shouldn’t be a problem.

As we got to the road named “Homespun Hills” and began weaving around pot holes and climbing the steep hill, I was already shaking my head; Clark, however, was very intent on seeing this place… or rather having this place work. We got out of the car, climbed decaying wooden steps, and hoped for the best.

The view was beautiful. It had a huge porch with a swinging bench that overlooked the road and woods below. I imagined seeing it in the spring time, with the sun rising and couldn’t help but think maybe it would work. I took in my surroundings again, and realized that this was not a vacation home—it was to be our first home. I then changed my mind about it being pretty.

We were let in to the apartment and I nearly winced at its condition. To the left of the front door there was one large window looking out on to the porch in the living room. Who knows how small it was, but from the living room you had a nook for a kitchen. If you walked straight from the door you had a little bit of a “hallway” where you could turn left in to the bedroom, or right in to the smallest bathroom you could imagine.

As the woman explained this and that about the apartment, Clark kept asking, “What do you think? What do you think? I like it!” How could I disappoint him and tell him that this was not what I imagined my first home as?

Then I thought of our circumstances. We were lucky that we could actually afford the deposit and first month’s rent on this place. Yes, we had to pay for the electricity, but everything else was included.

It wouldn’t be too bad, would it?  I could survive in this place until the summer, couldn’t I? At that point we would have the money for a better apartment, wouldn’t we?

I said I liked it.

Now I can look back and shake my head at myself, wondering what on earth I was saying.

There was mold growing in the bathroom walls, dirt everywhere, no rugs to keep anything warm against the hard wood floors, chipping paint that most likely had lead in it since it was so old, and a road that I was scared to even imagine myself driving up. And I said I liked it?

I think loathed would have been a more appropriate word.

Still, it was a home. Clark’s parents chose to help us move in, since my parents were in Germany and unable to do so. They even bought us a mattress, as we had none. They gave us an old pull-out couch, a wicker chair. We found a dresser at a garage sale that we could use, and then we had all of our storage from our dorm rooms. Clark also had a small TV, and we were slowly but surely getting a trickle of wedding gifts, so we thought we were set.

The “quirks” of the apartment began to reveal themselves slowly but surely.

For example, it was too expensive to run the heat in the winter time, so we had a space heater (also borrowed from Clark’s family). The space heater, if left in a room long enough, would heat it significantly so that, as long as we had socks on and we were under a blanket together, we were quite warm.

Well, the problem was that we only had one space heater. We would keep it in the living room/ kitchen area and have to shut the other doors so it would warm the main room. At night time we would be curled up on the couch together (once Clark was home from his new job at Walgreens and I was done with homework) until we were ready for bed.

When time came for bed, we would play rock-paper-scissors from our seating on the couch to see who would take the heater in to the bedroom.

Whoever lost at the hand game would have to unplug the heater, go in to the bedroom, shut the door, plug in the heater, and jump in to bed and try to deal with the cold. Typically Clark would end up doing it, but every now and then I would have to brave the cold of the hard wood floor in the bedroom and the ice cold sheets first.

Looking back at all of our adventures in that rotting mountain apartment, I cannot help but smile. While Clark and I had many challenges in that apartment, they weren’t just about the apartment. That first testing of patience was one that was needed on both sides. Because we were, and are, so in love—we were able to survive our first place.

Although I had these dreamy visions in my head of our first place, I wouldn’t trade what we had for anything. We got married at a very young age. A time when we were, and still are, trying to get to know ourselves—let alone learn to grow up with another person!

That apartment, I am convinced, was a blessing from God. It enabled us to learn to be in very small proximity with each other. We learned each other’s strengths and weaknesses in a household; not necessarily because we wanted to, but because we had to.

We have also learned to never rush in to a decision about a house… or maybe we haven’t learned that just yet.

Since that October of 2007 we have lived in three other apartments. The condominium we are in now is probably my favorite, but it does not contain all the quirks of Homespun Hills.

As we have moved up in life, even in these short two and half years, I sometimes miss our first apartment.

Having to live in such an environment helped Clark and I grow closer than ever. Even if we had our moments where we couldn’t stand being in that rinky-dink place, we had nowhere else to go, so we had to work it out.

I’m not saying that Clark and I run from our problems now that we live in a two-story condominium. I am saying that in the beginning we were forced to work out certain issues, and that doesn’t always happen with couples.

While Clark and I still have several moves and challenges ahead of us, I think I can say we both feel invincible after surviving Homespun Hills. God continues to bless and challenge us, but we know that we will get through it all as long as we keep Him first.

Nothing is impossible as long as we put Him first. Homespun Hills definitely reassured us of that.

Married in College: A Disastrous Valentine’s Day

By Emily Herring Dunn

Since Clark and I dated for such a short period of time, we never had a true Valentine’s Day together until the one during our first year of marriage. While Clark is one of those people that believe Valentine’s Day to just be a holiday invented by the card companies, I am not. My family always celebrated Valentine’s Day with sugar cookies, cards, and ultimately our love. It was not necessarily about the love between a man and a woman, but the love of our family.

Our first Valentine’s Day as a married couple was pretty bad.

By this point Clark was deciding if he wanted to be in school or not. He had taken a break and was working at Walgreens full time in the photo department. This is during his spree of thinking he wanted to be a professional photographer.

I had class, so attended class and then returned home and made cookies.

I had bought new cookie cutters so that I might make heart shaped cookies. I took some to our neighbor and saved the rest for Clark.

I filled out the mushy sentimental card I got him, simply because it was our first Valentine’s Day, and then set to doing my homework until he arrived home. I planned on starting dinner as soon as he arrived.

Clark came home late from work. While he did have the perfect card ready to give me, I was disappointed.

I had told him I didn’t want him to get me anything, and so he didn’t. I had at least made him cookies, but he had nothing. No chocolates, no flowers- just a card. He had really listened and didn’t get me anything. Since when do guys listen?

I cooked dinner and we ate in some silence. While he had a few stories from work, I was still marinating in my own self pity.

.I had instructed him on renting a movie for the night on his way home, but of course he had forgotten. So, we went to Blockbuster as soon as we finished eating.

I told him he had to go in by himself. I had told him earlier two movies that were my choices. A week earlier “No Reservations” and some other chick flick had come out and I wanted one or the other.

Clark went in with several other people trying to rent movies. After about 30 minutes of me sitting in the car, he emerged looking rather excited. He held up “Elizabeth: The Golden Age.” His thinking process was that we had watched “Elizabeth” a week or so before, and he knew I really wanted to see the second one.

While any other girl would probably be ecstatic that her man was actually thinking about her and not himself, I was devastated once again. I had wanted our first Valentine’s Day to be perfect. Cards, flowers, chocolates, homemade sugar cookies, and a romantic movie. Instead, we had cards, sugar cookies, and a historical movie that wasn’t even entirely historically accurate.

We went home and watched the movie. I fell asleep, and Clark got upset with me. I explained that I was just a “little bit” disappointed with the day. He then went in to, “Well, Valentine’s Day isn’t a real holiday, anyway. I tried my best.”

I exploded. We’ll just say I said some harsh words along the lines of, “you didn’t try at all.”

We went to bed like a grumpy old married couple.

The next day I went through my usual routine. Class, home, homework, cleaning, etc. Clark came home and entered by saying, “Please go in the other room. I have a surprise!”

I picked up my books and went in to our bedroom and closed our door after a few questions which he did not answer. I waited.

Finally Clark came in and asked if he could lead me out. I closed my eyes and he led me to sit on the couch. He exclaimed, “Open!”

On our kitchen counter (we were in a rather small apartment) was a vase of roses, cut up gouda cheese, a bottle of sparkling cider, and a box of chocolates. He had not been able to rent a chick flick, but instead he produced “Moulin Rouge,” which was the first movie we had watched together at a friend’s house.

I was amazed, but I felt like I didn’t deserve it. After saying rather mean things and throwing a temper, Clark had done what I wanted.

However, that wasn’t the case at all. Clark explained that he had never liked Valentine’s Day because it always put unneeded pressure on people. He said he understood that my family had always celebrated it, and he would be more than happy to keep the tradition going.

He also said he thought the day after was a much better day. Why, you ask? Well, because it wasn’t an invented holiday, according to him. It was just a random day where he could show how much he loved me, without someone or some tradition telling him to do so.

Needless to say we didn’t go to bed like an old married couple that night.

Our first Valentine’s Day taught us both a thing or two. The following year Clark had flowers delivered to our door for me, and took me on a road trip to Asheville with dinner and a movie planned out. However, it taught me something also.

Wrong movie and wrong time, but the Grinch comes to the realization that Christmas is Christmas no matter what.

Well, I realized that at age 18 about Valentine’s Day as well.

Holidays are holidays, no matter what. Whether you get presents or not, it’s about the love.

I think my parents tried to teach that to me and I completely lost the concept once I had a loved one, besides family, to share it with.

While my number one “love language” is gifts, I have learned to adjust to Clark’s kinds of gifts. They don’t always come in packages with bows, sometimes they are small gestures to show me how much he cares.

I took a lesson from the Grinch, and from Moulin Rouge, and just kept telling myself, “Come what may, I will love him, until my dying day.”

Oh, yes, it’s cheesey. But who cares? God brought Clark and I together for a reason, and we have time a head of us to work on our relationship.

We have time to work to grow closer together through our love of Jesus Christ and each other. What more could we ask for?

Have a happy Valentine’s Day. Remember, it’s all about the love!

Married in College: Let’s Start the New Year Right

By Emily Herring Dunn

Every year I always make a goal. It doesn’t matter if it’s to not miss a day of class (unless ill), to eat healthier, to exercise regularly, to forgive without question, or to make straight As for the semester- I always make a goal. Since I’ve been married, Clark has joined in on the tradition, but there’s a catch: we make a goal for us.

Our first New Year’s together as a married couple was spent in Germany. The Germans really know how to celebrate the holiday. It made no difference that it was 2009 there six hours before it was 2009 in the US. In fact, it almost made it more special.

Because we were all dreadfully tired from the trip, we stayed in the house and played games until midnight. Dad bought Champagne for the family and we all enjoyed time together as we waited for “the ball to drop.”

Why in quotes? Well, the ball didn’t actually drop. However, it did sound like bombs were going off around us. The Germans celebrate the holiday with fireworks. Their fireworks for New Years are even better than ours for the Fourth of July! It was amazing. I actually have a video clip from filming the fireworks. They go on, and on, and on, and on. Finally we were all laughing so hard I had to stop filming. We just stood at the window in the kitchen and watched as the sky was lit up for nearly, if not longer than, an hour.

We toasted Champagne with my little sister’s sparkling cider and said our goals out load to those around us. It seemed to make it more special by sharing our hopes and desires for the New Year with family.

So, Clark and I make a goal every year. At this point I can honestly say I don’t remember what our goals were for 2008 or 2009, but I always feel like we achieved it. Each year we grow more; not only as adults, but as a married couple and as Christians. Yes, our focus always has its moments where it strays from what’s important, but each New Year seems to give us a brand new start. Not even just every new year, but every day.

Our first New Years was especially important, because I felt like it was our first step together. We had gotten married at a time where we both realized that time is short. My best friend’s remains had been found, and it was enough to kick my butt in gear to never take advantage of time. I think it had the same affect on Clark, because it obviously lead us to where we are now.

I have no funny story to share this time or something that might make you smile at our situation. I think this should be more about starting the New Year right. The New Year is not about looking back and wishing we could have done more, but looking forward and seeing the potential in the time ahead. Although people say that there’s “no day but today,” the truth is that we have every day and every year to live and look forward to because we have Jesus Christ in our hearts.

While Clark and I may have seized time to be married and have a life together, we did not do it because we were afraid of dying. We got married because we accepted that our time on earth is limited, but we know full well our days after death are eternal.

I think every New Years it’s important to remember that “tomorrow is another day.” Whether today is your last day or not, you are always going to have a tomorrow through Jesus. Start the New Year right and always remember that everything and anything is possible through Jesus Christ. I think it’s one of the biggest struggles faith puts before us, but Clark and I always try to keep it in mind. New Years, to me, is a day to celebrate our tomorrows because there’s no day, but the first day, to do it.

So, what’s our goal this year?

Our goal this year is to really get involved with something we both enjoy, and to remember to always keep God first.

What’s yours?

Married in College: Our First Holidays with the Families

by Emily Herring Dunn

So, I know it’s the beginning of December. Thanksgiving has just passed, Christmas trees are going up, and the holiday season is truly beginning. It’s my favorite time of year. From Halloween to New Years days are full with non-stop happy wishes and holiday cheer.

However, when you are spending the holidays with the new in-laws who were not expecting they’re 18 year old “baby” to be married off so young, then you may run in to some problems.

Let’s go back to the first holidays of mine and my husband’s married life. While we had, at this point, obviously told our parents that we were married and had gone through the ups and downs of tears, yelling, concern, lectures, and all that jazz, we were now venturing in to a new territory. We were venturing in to family traditions. The thing was, we were introducing each other in to different family traditions, so to speak.

Thanksgiving

Our first Thanksgiving was spent with Clark’s family. While typically Thanksgiving is a huge ordeal, lucky enough for me it wasn’t as large my first year in to it. I was also lucky enough to have my older sister go with me because her college was nearby enough and she was unable to fly home to California to be with her husband.

It began with his mom not liking pumpkin pie. I brought my own supplies to make the dish, unable to believe that this wasn’t a tradition of theirs. My sister promised to help me; not only with the pie, but with support.

My pie was the last thing allowed to be made. After all, both sets of Clark’s grandparents and his great uncle were over. There was wine, turkey, roast, deviled eggs, sweet potatoes, pecan pie—the whole works. However, I was determined to get a pumpkin pie made so my sister and I would have some taste of home.

I was finally allowed in the kitchen. I put it together while the oven was preheating, finished rapidly so I wouldn’t be in the way, put the pie together and put it in the oven. I set the timer and walked out of the kitchen to socialize and wait.

However many minutes later, while everyone had started eating and was enjoying the Thanksgiving vibe, the timer went off. I bounced out of my seat and went to the oven. However, opening it up cautiously with the ovenmit, I noticed something rather strange—the oven was COLD.

Much to my dismay, someone had turned it off. As I took the pie out of the oven, half cooked but still nearly entirely liquid in the middle, I heard a voice behind me. “Oh, my, I completely forgot your pie was in there and I turned off the oven. I thought I had turned it on.”

I turned to see my mother-in-law standing behind me. The same woman who had been sneaking in and out of the kitchen as I cooked and was even in the kitchen as I placed the pie in the oven. The same woman who had admitted to despising pumpkin pie. The woman who was the reason this family had never had pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving.

I was livid. I went to Katie for comfort, feeling as though the action had been done to show me my new place in the family. Later, I even cried to Clark. He said to let it go, and prayed with me. Unfortunately my feelings are still hurt (yes, even now), but thank goodness I have Jesus Christ and the Lord above to help me with that! I did get past it, moved on with the day, and even got some apple cider made for everyone to enjoy! I just couldn’t be there on Thanksgiving and contribute nothing—even if my mother-in-law truly did not want my help.

Christmas

Christmas was definitely a different ball game. At the beginning of my freshman year of college, only a month before my husband and I secretly wed, my parents moved to Germany thanks to the US Army. Having to have gone through all the steps of the whys and hows over the phone, it was much more difficult for Clark.

Luckily, my parents made it easy on him. Nervous and shaking, we got off the plane and readied ourselves to meet my mom, dad, and little sister, Molly. We were greeted with hugs, kisses, and questions of our flight. My dad even hugged Clark! It seemed too good to be true.

This is the part where I’m supposed to intersect and tell how you awful it got, right?

Well, Clark is a lucky man. Although there was the occasional, “I just wonder if you guys got married too young,” from my mother, and side tracked counseling sessions from my father (a minister), it truly was a great experience.

While it was much different for Clark only opening one present Christmas Eve and the rest Christmas morning, he was shocked to find that he had just as many gifts as me.

We attended church the night before (Christmas Eve) and were paraded in front of my dad’s new community. Taking part in the service by reading a scripture, Clark was red in the cheeks. Then with our typical night of wild rice soup, twice baked potatoes, and watching “Scrooge”, Clark was content.

Although he did consistently talk about what his family’s traditions were, he grew to love my family’s as well. He even insisted the year after that we buy “Scrooge” to watch it. He also insisted that we do the Advent Wreath, something that is a very fond tradition with my family.

I am not saying that my family was better than his. I am simply saying they had different ways of accepting us into their homes. I know it was difficult on them.

It was difficult for Clark’s mom to understand that, at home, I helped my mom cook and was always in charge of the pies. It was difficult for my parents to understand that Clark’s whole family gathered Christmas Eve to open presents.

It was hard for both of our parents to understand why we got married so young.

Still, our parents got through it, much like we did. With the love and support of family, I think anything and everything is possible.

That’s why this time of year is my favorite. It is full of friends, family, and ultimately love. What is that quote? “Love actually is all around.”

Thanksgiving is a time to be thankful for all that we have, and Christmas is a time to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. What time of year could be more beautiful than that?

While Clark and I are still figuring out how holidays are going to be spent each year, we always keep in mind our first holiday experiences. Perhaps it’s to recognize how much we have grown since then, and even how much our families have grown since then.

It’s all a process, but what we always have to remember, even if someone turns off the oven or reminds us that we got married “too young”, we just have to remember that “Love actually is all around.”

Married in College: The Wait

by Emily Herring Dunn

My husband and I only dated for five months. While we “hung out” and “talked” for over a year and were friends for nearly four, we technically only dated five. In fact, we were short ten days of the five month mark when we got married.

While this may seem absolutely insane to people, I firmly believe that if you know- you know.

My parents only dated for a short time (compared to couples today), but they say that they went out ever day. Dinner, a movie, hiking, mini-golf… whatever they did, they did it together when they had the time.

It was the same with my husband and me. Most of our dating time was over the summer. I mean, we planned on going to college together when we were barely together. We just… knew.

It may have taken Clark much longer to recognized what I had known since day one, but still we got there.

Waiting to get married was almost agonizing to us. I remember the first time we talked about it. My family was getting ready to make a long road trip cross country, from North Carolina to Nevada, or my sister’s wedding.

I had invited Clark as my date, and while he was not permitted to go on the road trip with us- he was permitted to fly out for the occasion.

The day my family was getting ready to go Clark came over to the house early that morning. We had recently had an argument about a white water rafting trip he had taken with some old friends. One of these friends was a girl, and she out right told him that she was interested in him. This was not the problem. The problem was that Clark did not even acknowledge the fact to her that he had a girlfriend. He just told her he wasn’t interested at the time.

Yes, it was a big OOPS. It was even bigger when he slipped it to me. I had known there was a girl, and known there was e-mailing going on, but I never knew he hadn’t told her about it. There was lots of drama, so lets just sum this up and say Clark and I were arguing.

He showed up that morning to apologize. I mean EARLY that morning, like 7am… or somewhere around there.

My family was all in the kitchen as he drove up. My mom made a disapproving noise (knowing well what was going on) and told me to “be wise.”

I walked outside, concealing a present in my pocket if the occasion came, and walked out ready to have it out. I went out all moody, with that disappointed look that women can wear so well that scares men to death. I promise you, it does!

Clark gets out of grandfather’s pick-up truck he was driving at the time, and we’re both silent. Finally he starts talking. He starts telling me how he didn’t know and he was so stupid and he just wasn’t thinking.

Then he’s silent for a minute, as if trying to put something in to words or if he’s too afraid to say it. Quietly, he says, “Emily, I know this is crazy because we’ve only been dating for a few months. I know it’s crazy because everyone would say it is… but I just think… I think you’re it. I want to marry you someday.”

I let there be an appropriate silence.

After all, most girls would be incredibly freaked out and there would be a red flag going up saying, “Creeper! Run away, run away!”

However, after pining for this guy for four years (yes, I used the word “pining”), I had been waiting to hear those words for a long time.

Thinking I may have waited too long to respond, I slowly pull the present out of my pocket. It’s a gold chain bearing two rings on it.

“I had this ready for you,” I say to him. “One ring is my grandmother’s wedding band, and the other is a ring my dad gave me when I turned 13. The chain is one my great uncle brought me from Russia. They’re all precious, and all mean something… I want you to have them.” I had it to him and he’s just in awe.

“You had this ready, ready to talk to me about the same thing….”

We made up, as you can imagine (and obviously know at this point).

As always, let me tell you that everything was NOT picture perfect after that. The thing is, it brought out a whole new dimension in our relationship. It let us both know that we were thinking the same thing, and that ultimately we wanted to be on the same page.

It was a difficult thing for us both to confess, but it made it ten times easier when we did—not even truly planned—at the same time.

I was ready for love, ready for marriage with this man. While I had been waiting a long time, I never felt as ready as I did that day.

I didn’t know all the troubles we had ahead of us, all the challenges that God was going to throw in our path… but I did know that my future was going to be with him. College, time apart, other men and other women… it didn’t scare me. I was just ready.

I can only speak from personal experience, so I don’t know if that’s how others feel with their significant others; but I can say I think that’s how it should be.  While at that moment Clark and I were ready to wait to be married, we were also waiting on other things.

Oh, yes, I went there.

I can say that with other guys before Clark (and yes, there were a couple), the thought of other things scared me.

With Clark? I was willing to wait because it felt so right. I wasn’t afraid of it. I was looking forward to it.

Waiting only made it sweeter and more loving.

While we did not quite make it to our ultimate “waiting goal” with marriage, we did with everything else.

I think always having him on the same page with me at that time made everything so much easier. Respect is a big issue in relationships, and I am so thankful our relationship has always been overflowing with it since the beginning.

Respect, trust, and love go hand in hand (in hand). I just don’t think a relationship can happen without those three things. We still make the effort to always have them, even if we’re not seeing eye to eye.

I definitely think my life today was well worth the wait.

Married in College: Starting our Relationship

by Emily Herring Dunn
Editor of Love

Do you ever wonder how those perfect romances begin? How some people have those movie moments where they look at each other and just know that they’re the ones they’re going to marry?

I still wonder. Although I may have known since the beginning that Clark was going to be the one I was going to marry, it took him a couple of years to catch up with me. Those years were filled with girlfriends on his part and support on my part. He dated one girl for a year and a half, even bought her a promise ring. Yet somehow I knew that he was still going to be mine, I just had to wait it out.

This girl whom he had promised himself to was selfish, promiscuous, and above all took advantage of the sweet, amazing man who was in love with her. It is still hard for me to see what Clark ever saw in her, but when their relationship started they were only 15 and 14, because she was a year below us in school.

I was there for him when she made him cry, was there for him when she cheated on him, and was there for him when they broke up and he needed to tell someone it was really over. I was there for him. Perhaps that’s why we’re there for each other now.

Clark and I started “hanging out” or “talking” in December of 2006. For Christmas vacation I had a tradition of visiting my best friend, Will, in Florida for a few days. I would visit him and then be home in time for all the Christmas traditions. This year, however, Clark’s 18^th birthday was on the 21^st, and he made me promise to be there for the occasion. Badgering Will and his dad, we drove back from Florida on Clark’s birthday to be back in time for the pizza; when I arrived, his supposed ex was there with him.

As I arrived he apologized, and told me that she wanted to leave so he was going with her to watch a movie. I gave him a look, and told him that I drove all the way from Florida; he apologized again. He then asked me if I would get a hold of him after Christmas so we could hang out, just the two of us. Though everything in me was saying that this was the final straw, I said OK.

On the 27^th of December (oh, yes, I still remember) I texted Clark and asked him if he wanted to hang out. Not having my number saved in his phone, he texted me back inquiring who it was. When I said,  “Emily. 11 all right?” He immediately texted me back and said, “Definitely.”

We spent the day running errands. I met his grandparents, went to his house and re-met his mom; we went looking for a camera for him, and then we went to our mutual friend’s house for a movie.

It was the first time it was just the two of us out and about, and I ate up every minute of it. He would ask me questions about relationships, and I would ask him about relationships. Though I had not had any serious boyfriends, I had had my share of heart breaks other than my crush on him.

We were ourselves, and it was amazing to me how quickly we would stay on the same subject and finish each other’s sentences. Although I had no idea of all the hard times that were ahead of us dating wise, I knew it was right.

That night he drove me home and walked me to the door. We stood there, not sure what to do and hoping the other one would make a move. As he started to move closer to me, my little sister (very movie-like) opened the door behind me. I yelled at her, but by then Clark had already said, “Have a good night. I’ll call you later,” and walked to his car.

As I walked in the door my entire family faced me; all of them knowing that I had a thing for Clark since the beginning of high school. I was bombarded with questions. I dismissed them all, and went upstairs to “go to bed.”

That night Clark got online. It was a rarity for him to be on IM, but he got on telling me he knew I was going to be on. We had a conversation about how he thought he “kind of liked me” and thought “he should have kissed me.”

At the time it excited me, later I rolled my eyes, and now I look back and wonder how differently it would have been had he kissed me. “Our Song” by Taylor Swift has always been high on our list, simply because of the line, “The first date, man, I didn’t kiss her and I should have.”

While basically everything else defines the beginning of our relationship in the chorus, that line always sticks out to me because of the conversation we had following our first “date”.

It is never easy to start a relationship. Even after being good friends for four years it wasn’t easy to start a relationship. It was full of ups and downs, arguments and time apart, and love.

We have always kept God first in our relationship, because as we are growing up together we realize that God always has to come first. If we put our trust more in ourselves than we do in God, we end up with a lot more problems. However, with God we are always guided in the right direction… no matter how long it takes.

While I have not had my fairy-tale ending just yet, I can tell you I am living in my very own movie. While it may not have started as a typical romance, or started as I pictured it, or started as anyone would expect it to. The “I kind of like you” grew in to, “I am so in love with you,” and the, “We could have dated,” grew in to, “Will you marry me?”

Beginning and living out a relationship is never easy. Just remember your relationship with Jesus Christ isn’t always easy, and if the bond between you and the Son of God is up and down… you shouldn’t expect a relationship with a “mere mortal” to be any different.

Relationships take time, and no matter what God will always be there to see you through it.

Married in College:

by EMILYHERRING DUNN

Introduction to the column series: Married in College

There are very few cases of high school sweethearts sticking it out, getting married after college, and making it through the rest of their lives. After all, when so young, who expects you to stick together? Who cares if you’ve been in love since you were fourteen, right? Odds are, you’re not going to make it.
I’m twenty years old at this very moment, and I’ve been married since I was 18. My husband and I did not get married because of a baby scare or because we thought it was what we had to do to stay together. We got married for the joy and love of being married.

We didn’t have the big story book wedding, either. In fact, we set a date and walked down to the courthouse with two friends. Our parents didn’t know until that day. We chose to get married because we knew we wanted to be together for the rest of our lives, and just in case something were to happen… we wanted to have been married for at least a day. We got married because we were in love, and because we had a friend pass away and we realized that there was only so much time in each person’s life.

This friend had been missing for two years and the police finally identified her remains. It was a hard thing to face, especially for two 18 year olds who thought they had all the time in the world to live their lives. We had been talking about marriage, and truth be told he had already asked me to marry him. Our initial plan was to wait a year to be “officially” engaged, and then wait and get married once we graduated college. However, everything changed. Young and naïve, we chose the most difficult route we possibly could: we could married young.
In the beginning, I’m not sure if God was really in our relationship. I’m definitely not going to throw the cloth over your eyes and tell you everything was peachy keen, because it wasn’t. We had our problems, and oh the stories I will be sharing with you!

When we got married, we were freshman in college. We had just stepped off of our parents doorsteps and decided to build our own. Looking back, it may have not been the wisest decision, but it has worked out beautifully thus far. God is always in control, and as long as we focus on Him… we always make it.

Some people look down on our situation. I mean, we’re 20 and we’ve been married for almost two years! When people ask why, or “what’s it like?”… I just smile and tell them, “Because I love him, and it’s like it is for any other married couple.” We are still young and have so much to learn, but we’re doing it together. Distance only makes us stronger, challenges only let us know each other better, and God only gives us hope, faith, love, encouragement, and everything we could possibly need.

So, these are going to be my stories: the good and the bad, the ups and downs, the love and the arguments. It’s never easy, it’s always a challenge… but we’re doing it. With God’s guidance and our love for Him and each other, we’re making it. That’s what counts.

The Chase: How it all began

I wasn’t sure where to begin with my column, but where better to begin than the beginning? No, this romance didn’t start in college. After all, we didn’t just get married from nothing. It all developed, and I thought it best to introduce the idea of my romance and to-be marriage before starting with the actual “marriage”.

Clark and I attended high school together. My freshman year he was in my English class, but I had heard tell of this “cutie” from my sister and her friends; my older sister was a senior at the time and was in marching band with Clark. Since the late summer, before school but during the infamous band camp, Katie (my sister) had been talking about how she had to find a match for Clark. Once she jokingly told me I should go after him, but not seriously. You see, even my sister could admit to my awkwardness. I kept to myself, was a rather large individual, and was just socially slow. Since my sister never seriously suggested Clark to me, I saw him as a challenge. I just had no idea what a challenge he would be before I met him.

I met Clark in English class, though he sat on the other side of the room. How did I meet him? He began dating one of my friends. They had known each other in 6th grade or something like that and rekindled their flame at the beginning of our high school careers. Although the romance did not last long, it lasted long enough to make an impression on myself (and a few other girls).

During their romance, however, I attended a movie with them. Not just them, but them and two other couples.

Oh, yes. I was the seventh wheel. Not being allowed to date until I was 16 had advantages and disadvantages. The advantages? I appreciated it more. The disadvantages? I was the third, fifth, seventh, and even ninth wheel many a time. Anyway, the movie with Clark. At the end of the movie we were all walking around the “mall” the movie theatre was in. (I put “mall” in quotations because it wasn’t an actual mall, but it was once.) Well, we were all walking around and I dropped my sister’s name. Clark (not in his brightest years) asked how I knew Katie. I then answered, “She’s my sister.” Clark seemed dumbfounded. It was at that moment I realized that he, like the rest of the boys in band, had a crush on my older sister.

After that day, Clark talked to me a bit more. At the end of every school day I would meet my older sister in the band room. Conveniently, Clark would come over to say hello to me and run into Katie. Other times she wouldn’t be there and he would still come and say hi, but there were fewer of those occurrences. He may have had a crush on my older sister, but I used it to my advantage. If ever I was at a loss of something to talk about with him, I would bring up something involving Katie: the fact that she was dating a GI, where she was thinking of going to college, how she mentioned Clark once in a blue moon- anything I could think of. I used the fact that he liked her to gain a relationship with Clark. While the relationship was only friendship, I was determined to make it more than that. After all, I was 14… so I had two years to work on it. Although it actually took three years, not just two, it was well worth the wait.

To this day Clark and I can joke about the crush he had on Katie. Now he looks back and supposedly wonders why he never looked right in front of his face. As a girl, however, I know that sometimes it takes boys a little longer to see the obvious, more-so than it takes them to see what’s not so obvious.
I found a journal entry from my freshman year. After the Christmas band dance (oh, yes, they happen) I wrote an entry about how I wanted to marry Clark. No joke. Here’s what it says:

“At the party, there was something different. He danced with me and didn’t say one thing about Katie. When I took his Relient K CD and ran with it, attempting to “keep it”, he wrapped his arms around me and held a little bit longer than necessary in order to convince me to give it back. I know it may sound silly, and I know someday it may change, but right now I know he’s the one. I just know it.”

OK, totally cheesy and it sounds unbelievable, but I promise you it’s there. I remember praying that Clark would come around, but God had different plans for us at the time. I needed a challenge, you see, to develop myself. Without the challenge of Clark, I would never be who I am today. No, it’s not right to base your person on a boy or reinvent yourself for a boy, but everyone needs motivation. God saw that, and He had a purpose for “the chase”. I prayed more, I focused more, I worked harder. Now I see that I should have been working more for myself and my relationship with God rather than for Clark and a relationship with him, but somehow I think they intertwined.