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This weeks topic at Sunday Scribblings is "First Love
My first love was a pastor’s kid.
It was late Sunday morning on a hot Summer’s day. The big church had just sent us young folk free to join the others our age in a quaint dark room filled with metal chairs and some music equipment. I sat myself down on the cold chair waiting for the youth service to begin.
I loved my youth pastor. Him and his wife were blue-eyed blondes that resembled surfer folk with laid back attitudes and a hip style which labeled them “cool” in my eyes. Before the music began, everyone was whispering to one another, saying their hello’s and sharing the events of their week.
In comes this gorgeous guy. My mouth dropped open and chills went up my back. He looked oddly familiar to me. Is he a movie star? He must be. He was prettier than most girls I knew and more handsome than any guy I had every seen. I saw him walk up to my pastor, so I assumed he was a new part of staff or at least someone important. He had dirty blond hair, piercing blue eyes, perfect pearly whites, tan skin and dressed like a musician.
He looked at me and smiled as if he knew me. I was perplexed.
When the service began, the pastor introduced him and again, my mouth dropped. I knew this guy! Quite well, in fact but had not seen him in years because he moved to Oregon. He was the brother of my older sister Darlene’s best friend. Last time I saw him, he was about 11 years old or so. We used to go to children’s youth groups together. He actually kissed my other sister Pamela on the lips once. They “went together” as the term was back then for being boyfriend and girlfriend. It didn’t last long, of course being that young. He used to have curly locks of hair and a sweet soft spoken voice. I just remember him being really tender. I didn’t think he remembered who I was. I had changed so much since back then. I was sweet sixteen, he was eighteen…we were different now.
When the service was over, he was the first to approach me. We were both nervous and shy with one another. He still had that sweet, soft spoken voice and that tender aura about him. I found out he was there for the Summer, living with his sister and her husband to help them with some work. I was happy to know this wouldn’t be the last time I saw him. He would be here every Sunday for three months. I had time to reconnect with him.
I left feeling emotions I wasn’t quite used to: Giddy, sweaty palms, heart racing, energized.
The following Sunday, his sister found me and told me that her brother thought I was beautiful. I told her I thought he was beautiful. And that is how the romance began.
After a few short dates, we both fell pretty hard. We spent practically every day together after that. Our first kiss was at my old elementary school down the street from my house. The moon was out, he was leaning up against the stucco wall and he kissed me nervously. I found this so endearing because he was the kind of beautiful where you'd think he had done this a million times and was more into himself than the person in front of him. But he was humble and it was sweet. I think that first kiss lasted for a few more hours!!
Some of my most favorite moments with him was sitting in church side by side. He’d snuggle up close to me and hold my hand or I would wrap my hand around his arm. There was always a sweet anticipation there because we were in church and supposed to be thinking about God, but both having such lustful thoughts. It was grand! We even ditched church once when his sister was out of town and we spent the entire day at her place in our undies talking and kissing. We were both so innocent and honored our bodies.
Up until I was with him, I hadn’t known what it was to be with a truly sensitive guy. My father at the time didn’t share his emotions (although he is one big mush pot now). So, I think as a result of this, I was attracted to guys guy’s. My first love was the first guy I saw cry about love he felt for someone else. At first it was a bit shocking but then it made me fall hard because I recognized how safe I felt, how cared for I was. I began to see sensitivity as strength rather than weakness. A huge lesson that has lasted my lifetime.
We thought we’d be together forever but of course, it didn’t end up that way. We decided to temporarily break up while he went away to college in Southern California that Fall. Later that year he met someone else older than me. I was still a Senior in high school at that time. He was a college student now. It changed the dynamic between us. He married that girl shortly after that. And my heart was broken for years.
Years later I found out that he is a pastor at a hip church and has tons of beautiful kids. He was always the type of Christian that was a bit rebellious and definitely a leader not a follower…so it didn’t surprise me that he would have flocks of young folk admiring him and a church of his own.
As broken hearted as I was, I am so thankful for this relationship. He taught me the importance of being with a man that is sensitive, creative, musical, open and playful.
If I never would have been with my first love, perhaps I never would have met or had been interested in my husband. I may still have wanted the guy's guy that didn’t like to talk about emotions, thought crying was silly and liked to sit and watch sports all day.
Now when I see my husband’s sensitivity, it makes me fall more and more in love with him. That is just what sensitive ol' me needs...another sensitive soul.
I hope my future daughter has a first love as delightful as mine was so that like me, she will have higher standards and hold out for an outstanding human being and never settle in love.