—Dechari

Preface

Searching for Your Fairy Tale Ending

Fairy tales paint such wonderful pictures of love. While they always start with the search and struggle to find love, we take comfort in knowing that the ending will be amazing. We watch and read these stories of romance and happiness, and we so long for that to be us. When will my prince charming come? When will I find my happy ending? It’s true that we all search for love—in different ways, in different people, in different things. But somewhere along the way, we begin to think that fairy tales are only stories—stories too perfect to be true. But are they?

I’m going to go ahead and let you in on a little secret: you can have a fairy tale ending. You can have joy and true love that surpasses even what you see in the movies . . . it just might not be exactly what you had planned or even dreamed of.

My own search for love started in high school. As a girl, I wanted someone who would make me feel special, loved, and cared for. That desire led to several dating relationships . . . and lots of valuable lessons! But as I searched for happiness in dating, I found happiness in other things, as well. For me, high school was a time to grow, experience life, learn more about who God is, and create friendships that would last a lifetime. God was writing my story—and high school was a big part of it.

Through God’s blessing, I am going to share with you my story of love, friendship, and finding true fulfillment. So join me as I relive my high school and college years—both the good and the bad—in my search for love and my fairy tale ending. As I give you glimpses into my life, I’ll let you know what I learned from my experiences and give you time to reflect on your own life. The Girl Talk sections will give you questions to think about and discuss—and they’re great for doing together with your girlfriends. Along the way, I hope to encourage you to live a life of purity and faith and to let your light shine brightly in this world. My prayer is that you will live a life full of joy, and—as you realize all that God offers—you will see that His perfect plan is well worth the wait!

And the story begins . . .

All of my family was there—brothers, sister, nieces, nephews, mom, dad, in-laws, and in-laws-to-be, along with our closest friends. They had all arrived to witness this most special of days.

Everything was ready. Candelabras were draped with ivy and cascading white roses. Bouquets of more white roses were laid out for my attendants. An archway glittered with lights for our guests to pass through as they entered, mirroring the one on the stage where this new beginning would take place. The guest book was open, and white wicker baskets held programs that read, Once upon a time . . .

In the dressing room, my three best friends and my sister were already clothed in lovely, deep lilac dresses that flowed to the floor. When it was time to put on my own dress, I raised my arms as they lifted the gown above my head. They laced me up with a satin ribbon and fluffed the dress which spilled out in rich folds of white, dancing with silver and rhinestone accents and filling almost half the room. From underneath my hair, a satin-edged veil of white flowed down my back. On my head, I wore a small tiara—the perfect accent for my dress. When I slipped on my shoes with their twinkling rhinestones, I truly felt like a princess.

But even though everything and everyone looked so lovely, and so many details and so much work had been done, none of that really mattered. What truly mattered was that on this day I would marry my best friend—the man I have grown to care for more than any other on this earth, the one I have so much fun with, the one who can always make me smile, the one with whom I can truly be myself, and the one who was given to me (and I to him) as a great blessing from God. This was the day that my fairy tale would come true, and I would marry my prince charming.

I know it sounds as if I am giving away the fairy tale ending without giving you the rest of the story. And, believe me, it was a journey—there were lots of frogs before finding my prince! Every girl dreams of finding her own prince charming, but how do you find him, and how do you really know that he is the one? Well, God works in mysterious ways, and He brings people and things into our lives that we would sometimes never expect. Over time, He has opened my eyes to see how my path not only brought me closer to finding the right one, but also to becoming the right one. As I go back and tell you my story leading up to this fairy tale day, I hope you learn to trust that God will lead you to a great ending, too—as long as you let Him be your guide all along the way.

A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord determines his steps.

(Proverbs 16:9)

Chapter 1

The Foundation: It All Starts Here

Every story has it’s beginning, and this is mine.

Everyone has a story to tell. Some are happy, exciting, joyful, and funny. Others are sad, scary, terrifying, and serious. But most of the time, I find that true stories include all of these elements. That’s because a story isn’t just about a moment; it’s about a journey. And a journey is typically a search for something—even though the character may not realize at first what she is actually searching for.

Now, my most favorite stories always begin with Once upon a time. . . .

Wait a minute! you might say. Your story doesn’t actually have a prince, a princess, a king, a castle, frogs, an evil force, true love, and a fairy tale ending, does it?

Well, yes, actually it does. Okay, maybe not the castle, but definitely all the rest. My journey, like many others, started with a search for love. And like all the best stories, it had lots of ups and downs, twists and turns, and—best of all—a surprise ending.

At the time, though, I didn’t know that my life’s story was being written or even that anything spectacular or worth talking about would come from it. You see, I was just the girl next door. I didn’t have super talents, super parents, or come from a super place. I was just . . . well . . . ordinary. So before we dive into the journey to my fairy tale ending, let me tell you about where it all began—the foundation of the story, you might say.

My story starts in a tiny town in North Carolina, on twenty-three acres of land that sat pretty much in the middle of nowhere. I had two older brothers and a younger sister. We had goats, rabbits, horses, a pit bull, and a garden. It wasn’t quite a farm, but it was pretty close. Our town consisted of one elementary school, one gas station that doubled as a grocery, one community swimming pool, and the Dairy Shack, where we got the best banana splits around. No, there wasn’t even one single stoplight! I spent my days picking cherries, climbing trees, and riding my bike. Yep, a pretty normal little country girl.

Our family didn’t have much money, so we didn’t go or do a lot. But we did take one special trip each summer—and that was to the beach. On one of those trips, when I was six, I decided to go out to the big waves with my older brothers (who were seven and thirteen years older than me, I should point out). Now, I’m not sure what kind of beach you’re used to, but Carolina waves can be quite large at times and the undercurrents are pretty strong.

One of my brothers thought it would be safe to pull me out in his new inflatable boat. Unfortunately, the waves were so rough that the boat flipped completely over and I went under. I quickly tried to stand, but the waves crashed relentlessly down on me, while the undercurrent churned me into the sand. I finally made it up and out of the ocean, but I couldn’t see! The salt and sand had covered my eyes, burning them horribly. I panicked and started blindly running—but away from my family! That is, until a hand grabbed my arm and said, Stop running. I’ve got you. It was my dad. He cleaned me up and told me I would be okay. Oh, but the sand, the churning! It was awful! I said, trying to explain how terrible it was not to be able to stand and get my head above water.

For the rest of the day, I only stood near the ocean’s edge as the waves gently washed over my feet and the pull of the tide slowly took the sand out from under me. I remember being fascinated by how easily the waves shifted the sand. Later, about an hour before sundown, my dad took us to another part of the beach where a wall of rocks stood out in the water. He told us about his childhood adventures of walking the rocks way out into the ocean, to an island that we could barely see in the distance. Together, we walked quite a ways out, though we didn’t have time to make it all the way to the island. I was definitely farther out than I had been when I went under earlier, but this time, I was standing on rock. The rocks allowed me to stand above the waves; they didn’t shift like the sand.

Not too long after my experience with the rough ocean waves, I was hit with some rough waves in life. For though our beach trips were fun, and our simple life seemed good, my parents struggled in their marriage. My dad became verbally abusive to my mom. One night, the yelling was so bad that one of my brothers came into my room and said that if anything bad ever happened, I should go to the doghouse and Spike would protect me until he got there. Thankfully, it never came to that, but my life did take a rough turn.

One day after school, when I was supposed to go to piano lessons, my mom’s friend picked me up and said there had been a change of plans. When I asked her why, she just said, Everything’s going to be okay. When I heard those words, I instantly knew something was very wrong. As we pulled up to our house, I saw my mom and sister already outside with our luggage packed. The car was quickly loaded, and we took off. No one would tell me where we were going. All I kept hearing was, Everything is going to be okay. But I wasn’t quite so sure.

For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.

—Romans 3:23

After driving for a while, we ended up at a big, white house. This is where we’re going to stay for a while, my mom told me. It was a home for battered and abused women. I was only eight years old, and my whole world had just been turned upside down in an instant. My family, my house, my school, my friends had all suddenly slid out from beneath my feet. But still, I was able to stand.

You see, about a year before this took place, I had something big happen in my life. Though my family wasn’t perfect (no one is—check out Romans 3:23), we went to church just about every time the doors were open. For years, I had heard about Jesus, God’s Son. I heard about how He died on the cross to pay for my sins and that He was the only way to become right with God again. One night, I felt a desire in my heart to know Jesus personally and to live for Him. So I prayed and asked God to forgive my sins. I confessed that I believed in what Jesus did, and I asked Jesus to come and live in me with His Holy Spirit . . . and a relationship was born. Even though I was young, I had such an amazing friendship with Jesus. I knew He cared about me—yes, little ole me, in the middle of nowhere, with nothing super special. So when the waves of my parents’ separation came crashing down on me, I was able to stand because Jesus was—and still is—my rock (Psalm 62:6).

He alone is my rock and my salvation, my stronghold; I will not be shaken.

—Psalm 62:6

In Matthew 7:24–27, Jesus talks about two men: one who built his house on the sand and one who built his house on rock. The man