Hannah almost didn’t go to Ultimate Frisbee tryouts. Earlier that day, she sat at lunch with a mentor and admitted how nervous she was. Walking into a new space alone was already hard, and part of her worried she might not quite belong there. But something in her heart said, go anyway. So she did. Kaiden was sitting in the grass tying his shoes when he saw her for the first time. Later, he’d joke that he had to crane his neck just to see her face, “like sitting in the front row of a movie theater.” But underneath the joke was something real: he noticed her immediately. Not because she was trying to stand out. She just did. Practices turned into routines. Damp grass, cold hands, missed catches, laughter, and discs cutting through the air. Hannah had played before, but she had to relearn a lot of it. Kaiden helped her with her throws, encouraged her when she got frustrated, and made the game feel a little less intimidating. Then came the Swenson’s runs. Hannah didn’t even really like Swenson’s, but she went anyway. She called shotgun without hesitation, slid into the front seat of Kaiden’s car, and somehow that seat started to feel familiar. Over time, it became her spot. The place where conversations stretched a little longer than expected. Their texts started small. Frisbee, school, random jokes. Then they became deeper. When Kaiden was struggling in nursing school and felt discouraged, Hannah reminded him that struggling didn’t make him a failure. It made him human. She told him he was capable of pushing through. That moment stayed with him. For Hannah, love came in quiet pieces. One day, Kaiden brought her cannolis after she’d had a hard time. It was simple, but it meant everything. “I rarely buy gifts for people,” he told her. “But I wanted to for you.” And somehow, that was enough to say what words could not. They learned each other slowly through long drives, shared playlists, weird food opinions, late-night conversations, and all the little details that make a person feel known. Their lives had not looked the same. They came from different stories, different homes, different ways of surviving. But being together felt natural. Like they could finally exhale. It wasn’t perfect. They had hard moments, misunderstandings, and growing to do. But even then, love kept teaching them. Patience. Grace. Forgiveness. How to stay. Somewhere between Frisbee tournaments, nursing exams, music, laughter, and the front seat that slowly became hers, they built something that felt less like falling and more like coming home. The Frisbee girl who almost skipped tryouts and the Frisbee boy tying his shoes in the grass had no idea what God was already writing. But looking back now, it is hard not to see His hand in the timing, the small kindnesses, and the ordinary moments that became sacred. Before they knew they were building a life together, love had already begun making a home between them. And now, they’re getting married. “But whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” — John 4:14 “No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.” — 1 John 4:12