What's in the box? 10 years of romance!

For 11 years or so, I kept a secret from every woman I've ever dated, that I finally got to reveal to my bride the night before our wedding.

A shoebox under the bed was the object I hid for so many years.

This wasn't some crazy shoe box with a man's head inside of it, nor was it a pair of tennis shoes I was too lazy to remove from their rainbow-colored box. Far from it. No, this was a box filled with love.

You see, 10+ years ago at Super Summer in Arkadelphia, Ark., when I was in high school, a woman told us of one of the most romantic things in the world. She said to get a box, write love letters, and give them to your future spouse.

Well hot dog, that was right up my alley. I was crazy romantic in high school, almost to a fault of worshipping superficial signs of romantic attraction, but this sounded like a great idea. I loved to write, I loved love, and I loved my future spouse. Praying for her and writing to her were foreign concepts until that day.

So I got busy writing letters, putting them in a shoebox that I decorated with different colored printer paper. I wrote the date down on the bottom of the box, and got busy. Some letters I wrote over the years were silly and sappy. Some of them, ones I dare not share online, were full of shame and remorse. Regardless of the mood, I poured my heart out in each letter, just like I was talking to my wife. And with each letter, I made sure to say a prayer for that mystery girl.

Here's one from January 23, 2002:

This is just something I wanted to write to you about. My eyes are tearing up just thinking about you, and how wonderful you truly are. Everything about you is something I treasure. Your warmth and kindness, your ability to listen, your willingness to listen, oh I could go on and on but I'll stop. 

_____________, I plan to spend the best years of my life with you. For me, there is no escape hatch. When I say "I do," I mean it. Even now I dream about you. And in 20 years, that will remain the same.

You are my everything. I thank God for us everyday. I love you.

Ok, so not my best writing, but I like to think that nine years of practice makes me better.

And I knew that no matter how cheesy my writing, my future wife would appreciate it.

For the next 10 years, I did my best to write as much as I could. The frequency died down when I got into college and started living a lifestyle that God was not proud of. I just felt so ashamed of myself that I couldn't bring myself to face my wife, in the form of that box.

That pain eventually went away, and while I thought about destroying the box (thinking that it was useless since I couldn't keep my promise of abstaining sexually), common sense won out, and the rainbow-colored shoe box traveled with me everywhere I went. I never felt tempted to tell anyone I dated about that box, for fear that knowledge of my letters would ruin the surprise if that girl turned out to be the woman I married (I think I told maybe five people about that box).

Eventually, I started dating Allicia, and when things got serious, I had my box with me. As the wedding got closer and closer, I kept thinking about the best way to present it to her. The rehearsal dinner? The honeymoon night? The Wedding itself? And what if she didn't even like the box? What if she just shrugged her shoulders and set it aside? What a letdown that would be!

Eventually I decided on the wedding rehearsal. I wanted the night to be a special one, surrounded by friends and family. I also knew that this was crazy romantic, and wanted others to be inspired (and yes, deep down a small part of me wanted everyone to see how cool I was for coming up with this idea a decade ago).

So as everyone got ready to eat, I stood up for big speech time. I can't remember exactly what was said, but I thanked everyone for coming, and told them that I didn't feel special enough for people to travel 1,000+ miles to see me for one weekend. I then turned to my bride, and told her she was the most amazing person that I had ever met.

"You see, I've been praying for you all my life," I said with a choked up voice as I reached under my seat to grab a container of so many emotions. "I've spent the last ten years writing love letters to you, praying for that amazing woman that God has for me. And now, I don't have to write letters to an anonymous person anymore. I have a name, I know who she is now, and I thank God for her every day."

And I got the reaction I dreamed of for so many years. Beyond words, beyond appreciation, tears. I worked so hard for so many years, and to be able to give her that box as a completion of this prayerful journey was the greatest reward (other than the actual marriage) that weekend gave to me.

I had no idea who this person was that I was writing to over the years. Hell, for all I knew, maybe there wouldn't be anyone to give that to. To finally cap those years of curiosity off on such a special occasion is something I'll never forget.

Now when I pray for my wife, I truly do have a name to pray for. And I couldn't be more blessed.

For any guy or girl who is still single, I highly encourage you to start a box like this. Sure it's a little bit of work, but the payoff is big. Being able to tell your spouse that you've been praying for them for so many years is rewarding, and it will enrich both her life and yours as well. Nothing shows you care like prayer, and if your marriage means anything to you, you'll start praying for it now. 

Bin Laden's death shows my hypocrisy

Eventually I will have to fall asleep. But sometimes when news hits, you can't sleep. And in the age of Twitter, there's always an update to be checked out, something new to read.

The last time a news event kept me awake was 2007, when the shootings at Virginia Tech took place. Tonight, it's the death of Osama Bin Laden.

I won't lie to you and tell you I'm the most holy person in the world. My words to my dad after hearing President Obama confirm the rampant speculation were "He's dead! We finally got that f*cker!"

Ahh yes, holiness indeed.

I'll be honest, I'm a bag of mixed emotions right now. One one hand, I'm happy, beyond happy, that he's dead. Beyond happy that it was an actual soldier, not a missile strike, that killed Bin Laden. And why shouldn't I be? After all, our men and women in the military service worked hard to capture him for all these years. President Bush and Obama worked hard catching this man.

To the Navy Seals who pulled off this operation and took down Osama, thank you.

But then there's the other part of me that knows that being a good Christian means, as Christ commanded, to "Love Your Enemy." That is the hardest commandment to follow. Jesus wants me to love Osama Bin Laden and every one of his cohorts. Celebrating his death with a lust for blood, I don't believe, qualifies as love.

This realization doesn't mean that I condemn our soldiers for killing Osama. If they didn't defend themselves and shoot him, he would have done the same to them. There's nothing wrong with self defense, and I again tip my hat to them. I am damn proud of every person who spent time trying to hunt Bin Laden down

Rather, the problem lies with me.

Perhaps this evening, I've been a little TOO overjoyed at a man's death. Yes, I can be proud that justice was served. But to smile at the fact that someone made in the image and likeness of God is not what being a Christian is all about. Loving your enemies, not gloating at their demise, is what Christ would want from me.

I'm struggling with this. I don't write all this to be holier than thou and sound like I'm better than everyone. Because I'm not, and this knowledge coupled with how I feel inside makes me a hypocrite. But I hope and pray that God gives me a loving, peaceful spirit. And the strength to pray for the soul of a man who caused the death of countless people all over the world.

A not so nice prayer life

I'm a flawed man, I think we can agree on that. To back up my point, I'll give you three sordid episodes from my life that show how imperfect I am.

• I accidentally hit a dog (he lived though) while driving 35 in a 25 back in high school.

• I occasionally snuck in beers into my dorm back at ASU, to drink in the peace and comfort of my own room.

• I cheered for the Steelers in Super Bowl XL.

OK, so those aren't damning flaws (except for number three), but you didn't expect me to put up the really bad stuff, did you? Anyways, today's confession has to do with something that happened at work.

At my data entry job, I add what seems like hundreds but is more like 80 or so resumes to our system each day. I then find out what job they're looking for, and if it is open, send them an email telling them it is. If it's closed, I send them an email that no doubt causes fits of rage and anger (However, this position is not open).

It sucks sending people those emails, and I do my best to try saying a quick prayer for each of the people. Nothing grand, just a quick "Lord please bless this person in their job hunt." However, today I came across a resume that bragged about all their big fundraisers for We Murder Babies Planned Parenthood, and I actually prayed that they didn't get the job.

What, praying for someone to encounter misfortune? How absurd! When Lino Rulli shared a similar experience on his radio show (Sirius 159, XM 117 at 3 p.m. central each day), I laughed. "How ridiculous," I thought. "Why even waste your breath? God's not going to honor a prayer that aims to bring bad things to someone!"

And wouldn't you know, Mr. Chuckles here did the same thing.

Now I didn't do anything that would cause the person to lose out on the job. I processed everything like normal. But in the back of my head, seeing Planned Parenthood just infuriated me so much. How could anyone enjoy working for such an evil bunch of people?

Sadly, enough people to keep them in business. But then a thought occurred to me: the resume was just listing experience. What if that person had turned from their ways? What if they pulled an Abby Johnson and quit? After all, it's not like I'm taking resumes for Planned Parenthood: they're leaving that group.

And that should have been reason enough to say a prayer of thanks.