Here’s to Happiness: A Love Story (Part 1)

To truly give this story it’s due diligence, I have to back wayyy up and start with the very beginning. When I was 12 years old I went on a Winter Retreat with my youth group to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. I was one of the youngest in the group and I was pretty energetic. Okay, truthfully, not much has changed. Our youth pastors, Shawn Follis and his wife Gwen, were new to the church and I was super excited to start this next chapter with them as my leaders. Since this was a retreat, he asked his brother, Brad, who is also a minister, to come speak to us. He was great! He shared his heart and passion for the Lord and taught about waiting on the voice of God to speak before taking action. He went on to tell the story of how he met his wife. It was a beautiful story about how she had written a list of qualifications she wanted in a husband and then began to pray for her future spouse. Being a type-A personality, I was inspired! So I made my list.

I began with the physical, because obviously, and I listed big, strong arms and legs (imagine a tree, with thick roots and branches); brown curly hair (because I was in love with “Cory” from “Boy Meets World”- I know, I know); and of course, I wanted to marry someone with beautiful green eyes. It’s weird, but I also mentioned that I wanted a man with big, strong hands, but a gentle touch. I was thinking about my dad when I wrote that. I had always wanted to marry a man like my dad, which leads me to the other qualifications: hard worker who provides for his family, loves the Lord, and is kind-hearted.

When I got home from the retreat, I began to pray for this man (who at the time was a boy, hopefully). I prayed every time I was in trouble that his punishment wasn’t as hard as mine. I prayed whenever I was worried that he would be fearless and strong. Whatever need I had, instead of praying for myself, I would pray for him. I would literally sit in my closet (because I thought it was my “prayer closet” ha ha, the innocent minds of a teenager) and I would cry out to God on his behalf. I didn’t know this guy. I had no idea who I was praying for, but I knew his heart was good and he was becoming the man I would need in the future. (Whew, chills and tears. If that doesn’t pull at your heart strings, you’re dead inside.)

One day, in my frustrations, while praying for my future husband, I asked God to please just give me a name, something to hold on to, something to call him specifically when I prayed. And I heard the voice of the Lord speak to my spirit, as if audibly, and say “Benjamin”. So, a couple things: first, I didn’t like the name Benjamin. I thought it was weird. My Aunt Lynn loved that name, but I wasn’t a fan. But secondly, and this is where you see the true innocence of my child-like mind, I really liked “Cory” from “Boy Meets World”… like, really, and the actor who played the charter’s name was Ben Savage. So, in my mind I made that connection and grew a little more accepting of my future husband’s name. Benjamin.

Time goes on, and I continue to pray. I meet guys named Benjamin and my heart starts to analyze them. And again, almost audibly, I’d hear a “no”, or “not the one” and I’d move on.

While in seminary school, I meet a girl named Erica Lawhon who is from my hometown. We would travel home together during holidays and during our free time and we became very close friends. The year after we graduated the program she moved back home and we went on vacation to Florida together. She had just started dating a guy named Jonathan Brasher. Cute guy, really tall, deep voice, built like a tree. She’s talking about how great John is and how blessed she is to have found him. She’s clearly in love with this man. So I say to my friend, “Doesn’t John have a brother or a friend or someone y’all can set me up with?!”
She laughs and says, “Well, he does have a best friend named Mark. They went to grade school together at Calvary. He went to college at UGA.” (She mentioned this because she knew how much of a Georgia fan I am, and as an Auburn fan, well if you don’t live in the South you wouldn’t understand, but it mattered to me that our house wasn’t divided when it came to football.) “But,” she continued, “I don’t know if he wants a girlfriend. I don’t even know if he likes girls.” “Oh, well, thanks a lot Erica. Never mind. He has to at least want a girlfriend,” I said, as I blew off the idea.

A couple years later, John asks Erica to marry him and she asks me to be a bridesmaid. We get to rehearsal and they start pairing us off with the person we’re going to walk with down the aisle during the ceremony the next day.
“Ashley and Mark,” calls out the wedding coordinator. I don’t know any of these people, so I’m looking around to see who I’m walking with, and I see a guy step forward.

“That’s me.” A big tree-like figure, not too tall, but much taller than me as I’m only five foot, steps out of the crowd of guys talking and laughing. He’s wearing glasses, an over-sized, red collared shirt and loosely fitting jeans and black tennis shoes. But he has the most beautiful, curly brown hair. His beard and mustache are thick and have hints of red hairs, and it frames his perfectly straight, white teeth. Oh, he was cute! Happy with our pairing, I introduced myself.

“Hey, I’m Ashley. What’s your name?”
“Hey, I’m Mark.”
“Okay, great. Listen, I’m gonna be wearing four-inch heels tomorrow and this floor looks slippery. I’m not great on my feet as it is in flip flops, so do me a favor and don’t let me fall.”
He looks down at my toes and back up to my eyes as if taking me all in and I feel a little nervous all of a sudden. “What did you say your name was again? I’m sorry.”
“Mark. It’s Mark. It’s okay.”
“Okay, Mark, I got it. Also, there’s gonna be a lot of pictures taken tomorrow and I don’t want to look crazy, so while we’re walking down the aisle, if you could just whisper sweet nothings in my ear and make me laugh, that would be great! Can you do that, Mark?”
“I, uh, I mean, yeah? I don’t know what to say, but I can say ‘sweet nothings’ the entire time.” A boyish smile swept across his face.
“Oh, ha! That’s funny! We’ll just keep saying ‘sweet nothings’ the entire time we walk down the aisle and it will be our little inside joke!” I grabbed hold of his arm and proceeded down to the alter.

He was funny and charming and pretty good at taking direction. I was intrigued, but mostly focused on the task at hand. Wedding photos last forever, and you don’t want to be the one who messes them up.
After we do our first run-through, Erica approaches me and asks, “So… what do you think about Mark?”
“Who?” I look at her like she has three heads and is speaking French.
“Mark!” She looks at me frustrated, as if something so obvious is going on, but I’m not getting it.
“Oh, yeah. He’s nice. Cute,” I shrug.
“He’s the guy I was telling you about. The one who went to UGA,” she admits.
“Oh, okay.” I glance over and do a quick assessment of Mark before anyone can call me out for staring. He doesn’t seem to be talking much, but he’s involved in the conversations with the guys.

I love that there is a photo of us together within minutes of meeting each other.

After dinner we all go over to Erica and John’s new house to hang out and play games. There are so many people in their wedding party and I don’t know but a few of the girls so I’m being introduced to all of John’s friends and their respective girlfriends. It’s quite overwhelming; however, I don’t get introduced to Mark’s girlfriend. I guess he’s single. Hmm, okay. So, I sit down at a crowded table in an opening made by a couple of the new faces of which I’d just been introduced, beside Mark. Awesome. I need to get to know him better so that we don’t feel awkward walking down the aisle tomorrow anyway.

We’re playing a game called F-U-B… it stands for F-U… B. I had never played it before and honestly, I don’t remember the rules, but I know you’re supposed to grab a card or a spoon or something and discreetly say “F-U-B” and the last one to do so drinks their entire drink… of orange juice, kids. We were drinking orange juice… okay, it wasn’t orange juice. I think I was drinking tequila, but I do not condone my actions. So, anyway, I got the combination I needed, or whatever the rules were for the game and I grabbed whatever you’re supposed to grab from the center of the table and I turned to Mark, who was sitting on my left in a faded black pocket tee, and I leaned into his ear and said, “F-U-B” in my most seductive, sexy, raspy voice.
He turns to face me, grabs a similar object from the center of the table and returns my statement with a surprised, and slightly excited, “F-U-B!”

The table goes wild! Everyone starts grabbing the spoons or straws or whatever it was, and yelling out, “F-U-B!” “F-U-B!!” hysterically laughing and drinking and shouting over one another.
The night rolls on, and we play a few more games, but eventually we all grow tired and sleeping arrangements are given. Since I lived only a few minutes away in my tiny, one-bedroom apartment, and I wasn’t planning on spending the night with the bride and groom-to-be, I drove home.

We posed a little differently than the rest of the wedding party.

The next day was wedding day. We take a few photos with just the girls and then we do photos with the groomsmen as we’re descending the stairs of the house, towards the aisle up to the altar. This is it.
“Sweet nothings,” I look over at Mark. Crap! He’s not wearing his glasses! I’m going to fall on my ass in front of everyone. “Sweet nothings,” he says again, a smile broadening his cute face.
Woah! His eyes are so green.
“I… uh.. yeah. Sweet, um,” (Jesus. Sweet baby Jesus was the completion of that thought.. and also, if we fall, I’m going to meet sweet baby Jesus sooner than anticipated, and now I’m leading this blind man down the aisle. Impending doom.) “Where are your glasses?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I lost them.” He answers in a matter-of-fact way.
“And you can see without them?”
“No, not really. Well, I can see your face. You look beautiful.”
“Oh! Thank you.” Butterflies flutter in my stomach, or is that vomit… oh, I’m freaking out.
I look at the ground to check my footing and he holds on tighter and whispers sweetly, “I’ve got you,” and takes a steady step forward.

The ceremony goes on and I try to stay focused on the fact that this is my friends wedding and although my feet are killing me in these heels, I will not be that girl… the girl who takes her shoes off and chucks them into a nearby bush. I am that girl, but today, I will not be that girl.
The reception starts as the sun is setting low and a dusky twilight sets in. I’m sitting at a table with an empty chair to my left, feeling a little out of place, but hoping to blend in. Suddenly I see a couple of the groomsmen appear and nudge Mark towards my table.
“Is anyone sitting here?”
“Um, no. I don’t think so.”
“Can I sit beside you?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” I look up at him.

The ceremony goes on and I try to stay focused on the fact that this is my friends wedding and although my feet are killing me in these heels, I will not be that girl… the girl who takes her shoes off and chucks them into a nearby bush. I am that girl, but today, I will not be that girl.
The reception starts as the sun is setting low and a dusky twilight sets in. I’m sitting at a table with an empty chair to my left, feeling a little out of place, but hoping to blend in. Suddenly I see a couple of the groomsmen appear and nudge Mark towards my table.
“Is anyone sitting here?”
“Um, no. I don’t think so.”
“Can I sit beside you?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” I look up at him.
Why wouldn’t he want to sit with his friends? I’m so confused. And why is he wearing sunglasses now? It’s nearly night time. A song lyric pops in my head and I begin to sing to myself, “I wear my sunglasses at night, so I can, so I can, see the light that’s right before my eyes”
I turn to Mark and he’s smiling.

I bolt out with a little more confidence, “While she’s deceiving me, she cuts my security! Has she got a hold of me? I turn to her and say!!!!” I look at him, jovially, I hope, and wonder why he’s not singing. He’s chuckling, slightly, but I think it’s hysterical. So, of course, I continue.
“Don’t switch the blade on the guy in shades, oh no. Don’t masquerade with the guy in shades, oh no. I can’t believe it!!”
Okay, that’s enough, I think to myself. It was funny, but that’s about all I know from that song and he’s not singing so clearly he doesn’t know the words or he doesn’t think it’s funny anymore. Maybe he doesn’t sing. God, I hope he sings. I can’t be friends with him if he doesn’t sing. Are we going to be friends? Yeah, probably not. I’ll likely never see this guy again. Okay, well…
“Do you wanna dance?”
I look up from my plate of mashed potatoes that I’ve been pushing around aimlessly, “Sure!”

I had my prescription sunglasses with me but didn't wear them for the ceremony since they'd stand during the ceremony.