Even when you lose, you win.

15 years ago today, probably close to this actual moment, I was standing in the sanctuary of St. James United Methodist Church with a photographer. We’d spent the last hour or so making group pictures. It was time to make pictures of myself and my bride. I stood there nervously waiting to see her for the first time. Finally the doors opened. And there she was.

I saw my wife-to-be in her wedding dress for the first time. I was oblivious to my surroundings. I don’t remember the photographers, but I know they were there. I’ve seen the photos. I couldn’t tell you what the flowers looked like or even who else was in the room. All I saw was the woman I’d loved for at almost 7 years standing in the doorway.

My mind flashed back over those seven years. The Spring Fling Dance. Opryland. 9^th Grade English. Hickory Hills and Pizza hut. Late night phone conversations. Prom. And then, beyond…

After the prom debacle, Misty and I remained friends. We didn’t talk as often or as in depth, but we still talked. I decided late in my senior year that I would attend Auburn University. In large part, I admit, because that’s where Misty planned to go.

As it turned out, she did not go to Auburn the next fall. During the summer, her mother’s health took a turn for the worse. She’d been diagnosed with breast cancer early in our senior year, and Misty decided she needed to stay home for a year to help care for her mother.

During my first quarter at Auburn, I wrote to her at least once a month. Probably more like once a week. This was, of course, in the days before the proliferation of email. That meant I had to write actual letters. On actual paper.

While I was home for Christmas, I took her to see Aladdin for her birthday. It was not a date. It was one friend taking another friend to the movies.

Through winter quarter we talked more often than we had before Christmas. I think it was partly because she’d broken up with whomever she’d been dating in the fall.

While home for Spring Break, I spent a good bit of time with Misty. Still we were friends. Soon, though, our friends got involved again. You know the conversations. I’ve typed them out before.

I was back in school Misty was still in Florence, but I came home every couple of weeks. We ended up spending time together, usually with friends.

Finally, on April 9^th, 1993, Fate tired of our little game. It was late on a Sunday afternoon. I was getting ready to drive back to Auburn, but I promised to go by Misty’s house before I left. It was understood, via the afore mentioned friends, that this was the weekend I would finally ask her out.

I stayed and talked for a while, but it was getting late. It was time for me to go. I won’t describe the struggle going on in my mind. Reality versus my perception of reality. I’ve gone through it before. Finally I resigned myself to the fact that it was a losing battle. I said goodbye to Misty’s mother and went to my car.

Misty followed me out. We talked about the drive.

“Be careful.”

“I will.”

“Don’t speed.”

“You know I will.”

I got in the car. Angry with myself, again. I rolled down the window to say goodbye.

Misty spoke first, “So are you going to ask me?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I was shocked. I was ecstatic. I was probably a little confused.

Finally sound exited my mouth. “Uh… I …um…”

Misty stood there looking on somewhere between completely patient and losing all patience.

Words swirled through my brain trying desperately to get to my tongue.

“Um… would you like to go out next weekend?”

There I stood, less than two years later, watching the woman I’d loved since I met her walking down the aisle of St. James United Methodist Church. Her white gown glittered in the soft light. It was truly the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

Final score: Scott 4, Fate 2. Luckily, Fate doesn’t have to be ahead to win.