Dave and I began dating.  It was pretty serious fast.  I don’t mean physically serious.  We just seemed to know we were right together and others seem to know this, too.   On Sunday’s I would go to Mass with my parents and imagine the day when Dave would be with me.  He seemed to love my Catholic devotion, comparing me often to his beloved grandmother.  However, Dave didn’t show any interest in going to Mass with me.  I asked him one day, if he would like to go, he said, “Not right now, but someday I will go with you.”  I wondered what was going to change for him to be ready.

One Sunday, walking into the church before Mass, I noticed a handsome man I had never seen before. He grabbed my hand and asked if I were staying for Mass.  Duh…  I didn’t know what to think.  It turns out Vince was giving a Parish Mission that week at my church.  That afternoon I asked Dave to go with me.  Dave had no interest in going, so I went alone.

After the mission talk the second night, Vince hurried over to me and asked to speak privately with me in the church.  It was funny watching the people watching us sit together and talk, I was terribly uneasy.  Vince asked me if I would meet him for lunch the next day.  I informed him that I had a serious boyfriend, and I worked an hour away.  He offered to drive where I worked. He begged for an opportunity to meet.  I kept giving him reasons why it wasn’t going to work.  He held my hand the whole time we spoke.  He told me about a child he had from a broken marriage.  He told me how much he wanted to love a beautiful woman and how when he saw me, he knew I was that woman.  My head was spinning.

Finally, without knowing me, Vince told me he was leaving at the end of the week for Alaska, and he wanted me with him.  “Run away with me.”   I was terribly confused.

I believed in fairy tales.  I believed that God had someone in mind for me and I wasn’t afraid to run away with him if it were God’s Providence.  I loved Dave but he didn’t have any interest in Mass, and he hadn’t been verbally forthcoming about his feelings for me.  I didn’t know Vince, but he spent his life at Mass and in Catholic churches.  I knew the Catholic faith was the most important characteristic for my future marriage and on paper it seemed that Vince was “the one”.  Not knowing what to do, I drove to Dave’s house after the talk with Vince.

I knocked at the door; Dave answered.   He looked at me funny, I must admit I don’t hide my emotions well.  “Can we talk?”  I asked Dave.  He took my hand and lead me into his room and closed the door so his roommate wouldn’t disturb us.  I told Dave all about Vince.  I told him all about the running off to Alaska.  Dave was quiet the whole time I spoke.  I began to cry, “I don’t know what to do.  I care about you, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”  I continued,  “Do we have a future or is this all it’s going to be?  I don’t even know how you feel about me or us” I said.  Dave smiled, “If you want to go to Alaska with this guy then I want you to go.  I want you to be happy, so if it means being with him then I want you to do that.”  WHAT?

I didn’t expect Dave to give me up so easily.  I stood there crying.  He laughed a little, “What’s wrong?”  He asked me.  I blubbered, “I don’t want to leave you.  I thought WE had a future.”  He put his arms around me and kissed my forehead, looking into my eyes he said, “I love you and I guess I thought you knew that.  I figured we would get married and have kids but I want you to be happy.  I don’t want to make you stay here if you won’t be happy with me.”  For a guy low on romantic tendencies, he knocked it out of the park on this one.  I kissed him and said, “I love you”.  Then Dave asked if he could go to the next mission night with me.

The next night was so uncomfortable.  Vince saw this man at my side and glared at him through the whole talk.  After the talk Dave approached Vince and shook his hand like the scene from The Quiet Man when Sean Thornton meets Squire Danaher and they shake hands with so much force, trying to prove who is more of a man.  It was really funny to me.  Vince turned to me and said, “Well I guess this means you won’t be going with me.”  I said, “That’s right.”  What an awkward and funny moment that was to me.

A couple years later, after we were married, Vince came back for another mission.  He was so gaggy how he talked about the “scrumptious” women he has met.  Dave was really burned by this macho, womanizer who almost ran off with his girl.  I thanked God for the wisdom to stay!  Looking back, I cannot help but to see how the forces of evil used my weaknesses to tempt me away from that which would lead me closer to God.

Now that Dave was going to Mass with me, we had a lot of conversations about religion.  We both wanted to remain Catholic but agreed that our home parish was not pleasing to us.  We had a priest who had been there 30 some years and a religious sister who acted like a priest.  She gave homilies, elevated the chalice, even stood with Father at the altar and said the words of consecration with Father during Mass.  I didn’t know my faith well, but I knew in my gut this was not truly Catholic.  I left Mass angry every Sunday and I longed to not have that feeling anymore.

Dave and I began to attend other Catholic Masses near us, none felt like home.  Each was a different variation of the weird we had at our home parish.  Soon we began to discuss marriage and I discovered Dave was not Confirmed.  He joined in the class at our parish and prepared for Confirmation.  He chose St. Maximilian Kolbe as his patron saint.  I was Dave’s sponsor.

At Dave’s Confirmation our new bishop spoke more beautifully than I had ever heard from the clergy.  Suddenly we felt hope that being Catholic could mean more than tambourines, holding hands and women playing priest.  Dave and I imagined how awesome it would be to have someone like the bishop preside over our wedding Mass.

At this time, I was the volunteer Youth Minister and I had taught CCD since I was 15 years old.   I was learning things about Catholic mysticism and apparitions which drew me closer to God through Mary, His mother.  I shared these things with my students, and this angered the authorities at the parish.  Eventually the Director of Religious Education (DRE) made me teach class in a common area with other classes, so I could be observed.  This was so distracting I became frustrated.  She seemed to push me a little more each week until I walked out in a huff.  I said to Judy, “If this is how it’s going to be next year, I quit.”  She smiled and very cheerfully said, “Okay!”

So Dave’s Confirmation stirred in us a desire to contact this new bishop who didn’t seem the “Pastoral Team” type.  I wrote the bishop a letter expressing my anguish with the things Sister and Father were doing.  I asked that he not ignore us in our small town and please put a stop to the craziness.  In the end of my letter, I said that Dave and I would be honored if the bishop would marry us, though we never expected such a thing could happen.  I mailed the letter.

Less than 24 hours after mailing the letter, I was home for lunch, the phone rang. It was the bishop’s secretary, Father N.  He said, “The bishop was so impressed with your letter.  He is very happy to see there are young people who care about The Church as you and your fiancé do, and he would be honored to marry you.”  I was shocked.  Fr. N told me that the wedding would take place in the Cathedral and asked me when we were hoping to have the wedding.  I requested May.  He gave me two Saturdays that would work for the bishop’s schedule.  I said I would speak to Dave, and I was given a number to contact Fr. N right away to secure the date.  I was also told I must seek the permission of my pastor for the wedding to take place outside of my home parish.

Dave and I set May 30, 1998, as our wedding date.  I made an appointment to see my priest; he was barely able to contain his furry.  He sneered, “Why do you want to be married by the bishop at the Cathedral?”  I looked out the window at the octagon shaped church as I said, “We want something more…Catholic.”  I was given the permission I requested.  I found out later, Father and Sister were outraged by this and they made it clear throughout the parish office.

Dave and I were expected to do our wedding prep through the Cathedral.  It was rich and informative.  We were taught how the unity candles were not Catholic and would not be permitted.  We were taught that wedding music must be Catholic, so that meant I couldn’t have my brother-in-law play the theme to The Godfather on piano.  Seriously!  We were THAT clueless.  Clueless, but like sponges ready to soak up everything truly Catholic there was to know.  We even attended a Natural Family Planning class.

As the wedding drew near the bishop was called to Rome for an Ad Limina visit with Pope John Paul II.  Now we had no one to marry us.  I was agonizing to Fr. N about the desire for a “pius priest” and then he said, “Well. I’m a pius priest.”  I asked excitedly, “You can marry people?”  He laughed and said, “I’m a priest, yes I can marry people and I would be honored to do this.”  Fr. N said that in order to do this he wanted to get to know us better.  We began to meet almost weekly for dinners.  It was great going into restaurants with a priest and having him lead us in prayer before eating.  This was so foreign to Dave and I but it was thrilling to grow in our faith as we were.

Our wedding was everything we could have dreamed it would be.  Before the ceremony Dave and I went to Confession. I lit candles and prayed.  Canon in D was played as our attendants processed in, Ave Maria was sung before my procession and On This Day was sung as I processed in on my Daddy’s arm.  Dave and I knelt for Holy Communion, and we took flowers to the statue of Our Lady.  It was a very Catholic wedding.  We entered into the Sacrament of Matrimony aware of it’s spiritual value, of our obligations to one another, we wanted a house full of children (5 or 7 we would agree), and yet we were still clueless enough that the Sunday after our wedding we missed Mass.  I remember my mother being very upset with me and I said, “Fr. N said our wedding counted for Sunday.”  She said, “You were married at 11 in the morning, it didn’t count as Sunday Mass”.  I didn’t have any guilt about missing, I didn’t get it.