Spencer and I have known each other for 19 years, first meeting as sixth graders at Judah Christian School (though neither of us remembers it). While it might sound romantic to say we fell for each other back then, we didn’t. We were classmates through high school—he remembers my bangs he thought were funny (that I had until 10th grade), and I remember how he hummed constantly and borrowed my pens in Chemistry without returning them. We often sat at the same lunch table. I noted that he liked olives on his pizza—like I did. We weren’t interested in each other until senior year. During 3rd period, Spencer TAed for the science teachers and I TAed for kindergarten. The kindergartners shared their snack with me, and I’d share it with Spencer as we stood outside the Spanish room waiting before Spanish 4th period, talking and laughing. That’s when we started to notice each other. Spencer still talks about a classic rom-com hallway collision that made him realize he liked me. On our senior class trip to Puerto Rico, he asked me to prom on a beach under the stars, with the lights of San Juan glowing on the waves. It was the most fun dance I attended. He was funny, easy to be around, and I felt safe with him. He asked me to be his girlfriend that Christmas during my first year of college in 2013. We dated until we were 21 and broke up amicably—God had work to do in both of our lives. We didn’t talk for two years. In 2019, we reconnected when his sister Brooklyn invited me for coffee. That led to Spencer and I talking again. At the time, I joked by singing "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together" by Taylor Swift. (I was wrong.) We dated again from 2019 through the pandemic and most of my grad school years. After a second breakup, we stayed in touch. In 2022, I graduated, joined Wycliffe Bible Translators, and prepared to teach in Indonesia. I committed to serve at least two years. Spencer assumed we’d lose touch, but I sent updates as I traveled—and he kept in contact. While others drifted away, Spencer checked in regularly. He’d message me on Saturdays: “How’s KFC day?” (my grocery day). Working nights at MTD, he was one of the few people awake when I was—14 hours ahead in time zones. When I returned home to visit for my brother’s wedding last summer, Spencer was one of the first people I saw. He had been so present through my first year overseas that it felt natural. A month later, we started dating again. In May, during a visit to Indonesia, he proposed at a beautiful overlook in Sentani, by a mountain stream. Our relationship has had many chapters, and I wouldn’t rewrite any of them. The time apart allowed God to grow and shape us individually. Now, stepping into marriage, we do so with peace and joy. This summer, I saw a friend who told me she teared up when she saw our engagement. She remembered me talking about other relationships over the years—how I’d explain why they didn’t work out, and how I was glad they hadn’t. But whenever Spencer’s name came up, she said I’d say something different. I told her, “God would need to do a lot of work in both of our lives for that to work,” not closing the door, but fully aware of the transformation it would take. And that’s exactly what happened. God’s hand has been in every part of our story. I can’t wait to marry my best friend.