This is a continuation of Daniel’s and my story. Click on the “Our Story” tag for context.
Arranging a date with someone you haven’t met before, who lives quite a distance from you, can be an interesting proposition. And so it was for Daniel and I.
Where could we meet that wouldn’t be terribly inconvenient for either of us? Where could we meet that would let both of us be comfortable? Where could we meet without incurring huge costs in hotel rooms (since our respective homes are too far apart to allow for day trips)?
What’s more, when could we meet that wouldn’t conflict with our various work and church responsibilities? Daniel had just taken off several days for his retreat, I had state surveyors due any moment. I taught Sunday School, Daniel had weekend small groups.
But Daniel considered those details carefully and arrived at a weekend three weekends out. We’d meet in Lincoln (allowing us to stay at our respective parents’ houses) and go to a museum and do dinner on a Saturday afternoon.
I texted my excitement to my mother the next morning.
“I’ve got a da-ate!”
Mom just laughed at me.
I’d taken to calling Mom during my commute at least once a week, asking her advice and telling her what was going on. She definitely seemed amused by certain aspects of Daniel’s and my relationship–and this one was apparently one of those aspects.
But I was over the moon.
Scheduling a real date, an in-person date, meant that this was on its way to maybe becoming a bona-fide “relationship” (Boy, I hate that term for romantic attachments.)
I couldn’t really say we were dating, but we were about to take the first step towards it.
Yes, yes, YES! I was so excited.
But I reminded myself, as I talked with Cathy that Friday, that Daniel had not declared intentions towards me. I could not claim him as my own, could not let myself think of him beyond what I’d been given permission to think of him. I must stay where we were at, must not allow my mind to travel down the line of wish-fors.
I had something concrete: a date on the books. That was enough for joy. I would not, could not go beyond that in my thoughts.
So far, I’d been taking things day by day, week by week, from one biweekly phone call, one semi-regular letter to the next. Now the time frame expanded and I had the promise that we’d still be talking two and a half weeks down the road, when we’d meet face to face at last.