Geliebte: A Love Story

People ask me all the time to tell them how I met my beloved Tom. They ask because it's a question on the list of "what to say when you're meeting a relatively newly-wed," but my answer is something special. It's one of those stories worth stopping everything to hear because it's one of the best love stories of all time. Today, and not yesterday because my sweet baby Piper got a fever and all I could do was hold her, I'd like to tell you the story. My Valentine is one of a kind.

The story is about this guy.

And this girl.

It gets better, I promise.

Once upon a time, there was a most excellent man. He was handsome, creative, clever, and had a resume of life experiences to be remembered. He spoke German, had lived abroad for two and a half years, had built a ropes course in Ireland, had ridden motorcycles through Portugal, had led Young Life in Macedonia. He could build houses, play the guitar, ice skate, write music, sing to make a girl swoon, and cook Hamburger Helper. He had studied theology, read too much sci-fi, and taught English to German Kindergarteners. Best of all, he happened to be on a Swiss mountaintop at the same time as me. His name was Tom Bowyer.

When I first saw him, he was wearing a beanie and some ancient sweat pants that had a sheen from too much washing. He was bearded and smiley and playing guitar in the mountain chateau because a recent ski injury forced him to be stationary... all day. He was there when I got there. He was there when I left for the afternoon. He was there when I got back. So I talked to him. Even though I had not thought about my wardrobe that day and was wearing a green turtle neck my friend told me never to wear again and some jeans I had salvaged from my sister, Nurse Cori 's give-away pile. He made me listen and made me laugh.We talked for a long time. So long in fact that I began to wonder why he found me so interesting.

I remember asking him lots of questions and learning a few pieces of his amazing life. I remember him playing two songs he had written and that the one about subways got stuck in my head for the entire next day. I also remember him standing up for the first time and revealing that he was a giant. A six foot six and very handsome giant. And this is where I wish I could have known how significant this day was going to be for me. If I had known, I would have paid much more attention.

My mom had an inkling. When I got back to our room that night, she told me how much she had enjoyed meeting "that young man," and said that she thought we would see him again someday. I have learned to trust my mom on these things, but didn't see how it would happen so I didn't give it much thought. I did replay our conversation and remembered his sparkly smile and genuine interest in my life before I went to sleep.

The next day I made sure to put on mascara in case I saw him. In characteristic Tom fashion, as I would later find out, there was no "in case." He made sure I saw him. He took a chair next to me and we discussed the speaker we had heard that morning. Again I was impressed by his intelligence and knowledge, this time about theological issues.When he was called away to another group of people, my mom suggested that I find a way to keep in touch with him. Since offering my phone number seemed far too bold at that point, I took a subtler route and left my contact info in the guest book of the chateau so he could find me if he wanted to. We parted without a chance to say goodbye. I didn't figure I would ever see him again.

But Tom had other plans. About two weeks later, he found me! By way of a short, well-crafted email along the lines of, "You were cool to talk to. Can we talk more?" I told him that would be fine and he sent me a second email. The second email was longer... much much longer. Luckily, I ate up every word. His thoughts were beautiful and new and I loved reading them. I struggled to find as many thoughts to send to him in response, but after a few days, I had generated an email that was almost as long. I sent it to him, all the while wondering, Why me? And what did he mean by it all?

He meant a great deal as it turned out. He meant that when I flirtatiously suggested that he come visit me in Washington D.C. three months later, although he was then living in Indianapolis, he would do it. And he would stay for six days. And he would tell me during a visit to the zoo that he wanted to date me. He meant that two weeks later when we were back in our respective states (I in Texas and he in Indiana) when I suggested that he move to Texas, he would do it. And he would leave his job and friends behind. And he would move in with my parents. He meant that he wanted to know me and that he would take whatever unorthodox measures were required to do it.

I have never known anyone to be so brave. Some people may have thought his passion was foolish. After all, he gave up nursing school and his job for a girl he might not have gotten. I know it was courage - a courage that is powerful and rare and intensely attractive. And so I married him - only a year later.

We have been having adventures ever since. They aren't necessarily the fairy tale type of adventures that everyone dreams of having, but they are unique and memorable and a continuation of a wonderful story. Here are some pictures that my geliebte, my beloved Tom and I have generated thus far: