Written with love, by Karley Kiker
Hello hello! I am so glad that, for whatever reason, you decided to stop by this brand new column on The Overwhelmed Bride! Since you’re here I’m guessing that you already know what we’ll be discussing in this little corner of the internet...and that would be marriage. It’s a subject I’ve been passionate about for years! Although I’ve only been actually married for three of those years, I’ve been thinking about things like aisles and vows and the concept of being forever-teammates since I was 14 years old.
See, at age 14 I had braces on my teeth. I wore a back brace to school every day to help correct my scoliosis. I was skinny, lanky. Male attention of the "I want to date you" variety was non-existent. But one day, I knew that would change. My future husband would desire me and pursue me. He would call me beautiful. He would see what all the “totally lame” 14-year-old guys surrounding me couldn't. He was out there somewhere, I was sure of it—loving me without knowing me, praying for me and waiting for me, just like I was for him. With these things in mind, I penned my first entry in a new journal. It had blue and white stripes on the cover and a swirly, curvy title written in thick black marker: Only You. Separate from my prayer journal and everyday journal-journal, I began Only You to write letters to my future husband.
Despite the fact that I didn’t know him, I took great comfort in writing him pages upon pages detailing the strength of my affection for him. "Just think," one early entry read, "I could know you in five or six years."
Through the years I would forget about the journal until a breakup, a bad date, or a particularly lonely day reminded me of its existence. Of his existence. When I came home from my first semester at college, my 18-year-old self shared a laugh with him about the dramatic poetry (yes, poetry) penned by 15-year-old me. At 19, I told him I was pretty sure he didn't attend Pepperdine University, and that if he did, he was taking his sweet time trying to find me around campus. At 20, I told him to forget looking for me and to keep growing and discovering who he was in Christ instead—to see the beauty that can come from pain, to grow into the spiritual shape of a man after God's own heart. At 21, I let him know that I was going to be a bridesmaid in two different weddings, and that I was still watching for him, waiting for him. And then, at age 22, I told him we had met.