The year was 1974. I told you that I was living in Roseville, Michigan at the time. When I was nine months old a baby was born in Tacoma, Washington who was going to take an equally winding path to eventually end up in my arms.
Amy was born in November 1974 to a teen mom. (That's a whole nother story) When Amy was two her mom married Mike Geffre and Amy became Amy Geffre. When Amy was 8 her dad decided it was time for the family to move to South/North Dakota so the kids wouldn't be lazy. They moved to the Herreid/Pollock area to a town called Mound City. Amy then spent the rest of her life around there. (They moved several times)
In 1990 Amy was sent to a Bible training in Mobridge to grow closer to God. It just so happened to be the same Bible training that Doug Duncan was going to be attending for the second year. Amy wasn't thrilled to be there, but Doug was thrilled to see her. He was so thrilled that for that summer and the next Doug didn't say a word to her. (I mean, HOW do you talk to a pretty girl?!)
Then January of 1992 hit. Amy was convicted one day to seek forgiveness for some of the wrongs she had done to people and decided that she needed to get some things off her chest. So she penned a letter to me saying how sorry she was that she spit pop on me at training the year before. Now I, being a guy, first of all thought, "Oh, man! A letter from a BABE!" (It was 1992) My second thought was, "She spit pop on me?" You see it was actually my buddy that she hit, not me. (By the way he was my best man at the wedding. Can you see why?) From that point the letters began to flow. I would write, she would write back. I would write, she would write again. This went on right up until July 30, 1994 when we didn't need to write anymore (we still do once in a while) because we vowed to spend the rest of our lives together.
As I get retrospective once in a while, I think back on our story. Here are a few crazy thoughts I've had:
1. I was born in the Detroit and Amy in the Seattle area, both on Highway 12.
2. If you follow Highway 12 to its ending point on the west coast, it is a town called Aberdeen, Washington.
3. Amy and I made our first home in Aberdeen, SD, almost exactly the mid-point on Highway 12 between Seattle and Detroit.
Coincidence? Maybe. But there's a song I love to listen to that sums up this trilogy of tales I've told the past three days. It goes like this:
"Could it be that the many roads
You took to get here
Were just for me to tell this story
And for you to hear this song
And your many hopes
And your many fears
Were meant to bring you here all along"
-Many Roads by Andrew Peterson
We all take many roads to get where we are. Look back on them. Those many roads each tell a story of a great God who brought you to where you were supposed all along.
The story of my many roads tells how a dorky introvert and a beautiful young woman chose to be together forever so they could raise five children to go into the world following God in the same way the two of them do.
I love that story. What's yours?