It is already written, or moving forward with faith

My father in law's words, and their tingling effect on me that sticky December night have played over and over again in my mind over the many months since I first left Cameroon.

It is already written.

They came to me during the tentative first few days of messages back and forth with Steve, as I remained plagued by insecurities.

He clearly has no shortage of choices. Why would he choose me?

It is already written.

And over the following exhilarating several weeks of nearly daily messages, phone calls and video chats, while doubt lingered.

Even though he clearly seems interested, we face so many challenges and I'm not sure he thinks we're worth the effort. How could we ever overcome the distance?

It is already written.

The words were ever-present after we crossed the "love" threshold and started talking about marriage.

This all seems too good to be true. How can I know that this is real and right?

It is already written.

Even now, and in the months since our wedding, as we wait to be able to make our life together under the same roof in Canada, I can hear the words on reassuring repeat.

It hurts so much to go on living separate lives. How can we find the patience and hope to endure this, without knowing when or even if everything will be approved?

It is already written.

In fact, I have a feeling these words will continue to be a beacon of hope for me in the years to come as we face life's certain trials and profound and unwieldy challenges.

Financial stress? Family challenges? Illness? No matter what, we'll face it together, under the guidance and direction of Heaven and ultimately, everything will be okay. How can I be sure?

It is already written.




But I'm jumping way too far ahead.

These four words have never been so crucial to me as they were early last spring. Steve and I weren't engaged yet, but we had already decided that we wanted to get married. I was planning a trip back to Cameroon so that we could spend some quality time together and make absolutely sure that getting married was the right move.

But before I could make my trip, disaster struck.

Ok, that is far too passive of a statement. I created the disaster.

The unpleasant details, however, don't need to be preserved for all of eternity. It's only the outcome of that whole experience that fundamentally matters to our story. I cannot treat this part of our story with levity, but I also don't want to plunge us all fully into the depths of despair brought on by this experience. So, please bear with me speaking somewhat metaphorically.

Suffice to say that if this were a romantic comedy we had fully arrived at the "dark moment" in the plot where it seems like the young lovers have reached an impasse or insurmountable conflict and are fated to permanently go their separate ways. Cue the sad montage (made even sadder by the fact that at that point, ours didn't include so much as a first kiss).

So what happened? Essentially, I steered us directly into an iceberg and Steve and I found ourselves capsized in a churning ocean of trial that threatened to sink and destroy our young love.

Both of us were overwhelmed with pain. I for one, have never experienced so much heartache, stress and anxiety as I did over those several weeks. Steve was doing his best to reassure me, going out of his way to make sure I knew he still loved me, but he also needed some time and distance. And, well, I wasn't very good about leaving Steve the time and space that he needed. I may be fiercely independent but it turns out I'm not a girl who takes distance well, particularly when that distance is from the person I have decided I want to build my forever future with.

There were a lot of tears and desperate prayers during that time period.

I'm so scared to lose him. How can I be calm and trust that it will all work out?

It is already written.

For weeks I was engulfed by the swells of the trial, but I could only wallow in the deepest, darkest recesses of misery for so long before the Holy Ghost would bring these words back to my remembrance. They provided me with a buoy of comfort and a lifeline of hope. With that promise coursing through my mind and guiding me to safety, I could kick my way to the surface, coughing and sputtering, never quite drowning.

Fortunately for me, my husband is an absolute saint — imperfect like everyone else, sure, but through this experience and his attitude in all the time since then, he has taught me a lifetime's worth of lessons about trusting personal revelation, about following God's will even when it is hard, about the strengthening power of forgiveness and the healing potential of being forgiven.

Eventually, we swam ashore together. It was an exhausting effort, and it took us a while to get rid of our sea legs even after we were out of danger. But together we made it to dry land and set about building a new vessel, taking care to reinforce the places where we'd left critical vulnerabilities in the old one. Soon, we were ready to set sail once again.

So we cast off to brave the waters all over again; both of us scared but hopeful, moving forward with faith.