April 26, 2014. The night when my story became our story. In honor of this special event, James and I have both shared our perspectives about the night when we first met. ❤

BEFORE

Mary

       On the Saturday after Easter, my youngest sister celebrated her Sweet Sixteen birthday party at AirTime, a giant warehouse with trampolines for floors. Most of her teen friends were there. My sister April, her fiancé Jack, and I tagged along, too. We played dodgeball on trampolines, enjoyed delicious Sander’s bumpy cake, and bounced away to our heart’s content.

      Later that day, April and I went home to get ready for another special event: the Spring of ’65 Swing Dance in Royal Oak.

      “It’s hosted by the Saint Mary’s young adult group,” April told me. “I know lots of people there. I can introduce you to everyone!”

       “Okay, let’s give it a try.” I’d told the Lord two days ago that I was ready to make my post-convent debut. I had no idea what would happen next, but I decided to place it all in God’s hands.

       It’s a good thing this isn’t up to me. I don’t even have a car or cell phone yet.

       The car wouldn’t be a problem tonight, because April was driving. We picked up April’s fiancé Jack and one of his friends in Troy, then headed to the party.

James

I arrived at Saint Mary’s Catholic Church in Royal Oak just in time for 4:30 Mass. I decided to stay in the area and had a few hours to spend before the evening’s dance. I picked up food at a nearby restaurant and then came back to help setup the church’s fellowship center for the dance. Two of my friends were organizing it, so I thought they could use the help. The theme of the dance was “the 60s”, and even included vintage telephones that probably really were from the sixties.

I decided to go solo to the dance and not have a date. A few weeks prior to the dance, I had ear surgery (which was not fun), and I was still recovering.  This was my first real social event after surgery. I still felt a little self-conscious because I had to wear a protective covering over my ear. 

       The time had finally come for the dance to begin, and people started to gather inside.  The first hour or so was mostly made up of people I knew and some of the usual guy/girl Catholic awkwardness. To be honest, it was pretty lame. At roughly 8:30 p.m., I decided to go outside to take a break. While outside, I debated going home or going back in.  It had been a long day, and I was still recovering and not feeling well. But the other side of me said, “give it one more shot”. If it’s still lame, then you can go home.  This one decision to go back in, was pivotal in changing my life.

THE DANCE

Mary

A half hour later, we stepped out of April’s car and into the Saint Mary’s parking lot. The sun had already set, and a soft blue twilight was settling over the church buildings.

The dance was located in a newer brick structure. As we came inside, I noticed that the building’s south-facing windows looked out at the century-old church. Somewhere within, Jesus rested in His golden tabernacle, aware of everything going on tonight.

Straight ahead of us was a sixties photo booth display. To our left was the gym. The sound of music and people chattering poured out of the open door.

I guess this is it, I thought, stuffing my cold hands into my pockets. Underneath my grey peacoat, I was wearing the rose print dress from Forever 21. April had helped me style my hair to make it look more “sixties”, but I still felt self-conscious of my convent haircut.

We paid for our tickets and stepped inside the gym. April wasn’t joking when she said she knew people at Saint Mary’s. She introduced me to pretty much everyone, girls and guys alike. I danced with a group of April’s friends, then took a trip to the ladies’ room to check my hair and makeup. So far, so good.

Afterwards I made my way back to the gym. April was busy talking to someone, and there was no one else I knew close by.

I guess I can head over to the snack table?

As I headed in that direction, April grabbed my arm.

“Mary, meet James,” she said, introducing me to the gentleman she’d been talking with.

“Hello,” I said, with a big smile.

James was dressed in a burgundy suit and tie: perfect 60s swing dance attire. The next thing I noticed was his strawberry blond hair.

Wow. A redhead.

“James and I know each other from some pro-life events,” April explained. “Mary’s my older sister, and she just came back to Michigan.”

“Hi Mary,” James had a stylish pair of glasses and a gentle smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

James

            Once back inside, it seemed like a “new” dance. People were dancing, there was energy in the room, and I saw a lot of people I had never met. I ran into April, a friend I knew from various Catholic events and swing dances. April pulled me over and introduced me to Mary. Immediately I noticed something special about Mary. She was constantly smiling, had a fun short haircut, and colorful dress. We started talking, learning about each other. From that moment on, it seemed as if no one else was even in the room.

       We talked for a bit, then separated to do some dancing before we reconnected.

My best friend arrived at the dance at roughly the same time as I met Mary. When I met up with him later, he said, “You must really like her! I didn’t even talk to you until now.”

AFTER

Mary

I liked James right away. I was immediately attracted to his calm, gentle manner, as well as his apparent ease at the social event. He told me how he’d helped to set things up for the dance, including adding the funky floral decorations on the walls. I learned a few other things as well: he liked reading books about people overcoming adversity, and liked the movie Pursuit of Happyness. He had just started a new IT job for a Quicken Loans company. And he’d recently had ear surgery, so this was his first time going out in a while.

            I told James about some of my own favorite books and movies, too, and explained that I had recently left the convent, because I realized God was calling me to marriage. James accepted this without hesitation.

            Before we ended our conversation, James asked for my number.

            “I don’t have a cell phone yet,” I had to raise my voice over the dance music. “My dad ordered one for me, but it’s not supposed to arrive until next week.”

            When he started looking disappointed, I added, “I do have my new number, though.”

            James suavely pulled out his phone, opened his contacts page, and let me enter my cell number myself. I was impressed by this cool, sophisticated move.

            The rest of the dance was really fun. I took turns dancing with April and her friends, a few gentleman, and James. James taught me some fun new swing dancing moves as we swirled across the gym floor.

            Later, when the noise was starting to bother both of us—me, because of the sensory overload, and James, because of his ear surgery—we stepped out into the foyer. The photo booth area, with its large black couch and quieter setting, seemed like a good place to sit and chat.

            We talked more, perusing the odds and ends on display, like the old dial-up telephone and some 60s era books. Because we were sitting in the photo booth area, people kept coming up and asking if we’d like our picture taken.

“Well, this event will be well-documented,” I joked, as I smiled for our third picture together. James seemed pleased by the photos.

It was full nighttime by the time April and I left the dance and headed back home.

   “Mary,” Jack teased from the front seat. “James.” He said the name as if it was surrounded by a host of cheesy Valentine hearts.

I was so pleased by how the evening had gone, I didn’t even mind. That’s who I was thinking about, too: James. James Kreger.

#

Thanks so much for reading! Please let me know your thoughts about today’s dual post in the comments box below. And join me next week as James and I get to know each other better on three vastly different dates! 🙂

Also, new post today on Monastery in My Heart blog:

https://www.monasteryinmyheart.com/post/the-feast-of-saint-agnes

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