Standing Out and Standing On His Promises

No vacation will ever beat our honeymoon in my memories.

I’d just turned 21. He was fresh out of college and I had one semester left. The two pennies we had to rub together reflected our motto the day we said I do: In God we trust.

Generous loved ones let us stay in a Fort Myers condo for a week and a half. A little red bus and several sun-scorched transfers later, we arrived. With enough money for only two days of renting a car, we hitchhiked and walked to find food much of the time. Most days were lazy on the shore, in the pool, and watching the water from our balcony.

When the sun went down, we worked on a blindingly shiny puzzle from a discount rack. Each night we opened the Word and talked with the Lord. One night we witnessed divine intervention when I tried making macaroni and cheese with no milk or butter. By the grace of God alone, we managed to resolve the resulting conflict quickly!

Come the end of our trip, we used what we’d set aside to rent a car and make a trek to Miami.

Though I sat on the edge of seat, alight with ridiculous adrenaline due to the warnings I’d heard, we never saw an alligator on the side of the road.

I was wearing my best thrift store dress. He had on holey jeans and a Supertones t-shirt. There was no argument- he could never keep himself out of the ocean. Besides, he’d packed nicer clothes for dinner at the romantic little Italian restaurant we’d made reservations for.

Our afternoon in Miami was full of awe. We visited a free museum and marveled at mummies, antiquities, and art reflecting the rich history of the world God made. Window shopping by the shore, we gaped in shock at the cost of a hat ($300!) Finally, we hit the beach.

I walked barefoot and snapped photos on my flip phone as he ran headlong, fully clothed, into the clear water of the ocean. Strolling hand in soaking wet hand through the sand, we talked about God’s goodness and the adventure of following Him by faith. Little in my mind compares to the feeling of the sun on my face and the light in my heart the moment we just stopped to stare at the beauty of it all.

Then. (There’s always a then.) We made our way to the car. I grabbed a towel to hold as a curtain while he changed in the back. He reached for the dry clothes he’d stashed under the seat. Then he tried the trunk. Then he checked the glove box.

There stood my new husband, at the end of our honeymoon, damp in his ragged ocean-smelling clothes, with a look of horror on his face. He’d forgotten the classy, dry outfit. We had ten minutes until our one and only fancy dinner reservation and couldn’t afford the clothes in the shops we’d passed.

He said he was a bum. He apologized profusely. He swore we couldn’t go, saying they wouldn’t let him in. I laughed out loud and told him we were going anyway.

But God’s grace (and I presume laughter) made it all the more special in my mind when we held hands and bowed our heads to thank the Lord over the white linen tablecloth and fine food in that sweet little restaurant. A couple nearby chatted with us as we ate. The wait staff chuckled when my husband apologized for his appearance and asked for a photograph.

The photo is my favorite.

When I see it, I’m reminded of the God we trust. He’s the one who provides when we see no way. He’s the God who turns leaps of faith into testimonies of adventure. He’s the God who made the ocean, the man I love who loves getting wet, and the incredible thing that marriage is. I’m glad we jumped in- and I’m ever glad we aren’t in it alone.

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