When You Know

There is one sentence when you are discussing relationships with friends or family that can either raise the greenest flag of peace or the reddest flag of delusion. It consists of five small words: “When you know, you know.” I’ve heard these words uttered by lovestruck teenagers about their relationships that lasted a week or so but I’ve also heard them spoken by friends as they recall the sweetness of their first few dates with the people they eventually said “I do” to. I used to cringe at the sound, but I have learned the peace it may bring when spoken in alignment with a story being authored by the Lord; a story like the one my grandparents lived out; a story like the one I want to share with you today.

My grandfather, most affectionately referred to as “Papaw,” passed away when I was just six years old. I have faint memories of him; mostly consisting of Juanita’s brand peanut brittle, Werther’s Original caramel candies, golf balls and tees found in the most random places, the coziest naps in his recliner by the fireplace, and now, thankfully, notes he left behind; jotted neatly in the margins of his Bible and books. (I mean, so neat that he had to have used a ruler to draw those lines.) My grandmother, however, has a lifetime supply of memories featuring the candy-eating, golf-ball-hitting, recliner-napping, Bible-studying Joe T. There was far more to him than what my childlike eyes could perceive or what my adult mind may even now infer. The day he walked into her life changed the direction of it forever, and she promises me that she knew it would from the first moment she saw him.

Walk the streets of life in summer of the mid-to-late 1950s with me for a moment. Imagine, you’re a young girl that has just perfectly placed your sponge-rolled curls before whisking out the door for the day. Soda shoppes and movie theaters are the height of socialization, next only to small town sports during their respective seasons. It seemed that the hopes of every high school girl’s heart was consumed with whose letterman jacket she may manage to wear to the next basketball game. Even beyond the high school scene, love was in the air. The thick and continuously stirred dust of war in the country seemed to finally be settling. Celebration felt permissible again, but was yet presented in the sweetest simplicity. Life was getting lighter and the earth seemed to have decided to take a breath and slow down a bit; as if to savor the moments before they spun by. This was my grandmother’s world. Her dad owned a service station in her small hometown near northeast Arkansas. Though it didn’t much concern her regularly who may walk in and out of those old shop doors or what they were doing there, she walked in one afternoon before a basketball game and found the most welcome (and handsome) obstacle between her and a cold Coca-Cola that she had ever yet seen. On a hot day in July of 1956, a silent exchange of glances and a kind step out of her way became the genesis of the sweetest part of her life’s story. The Author’s ink began to fill the pages.

Now, Mamaw already had a boyfriend. Let’s start the story with the facts. She had already committed her affections (or at least her time and amusement) to another, according to her, much less worthy candidate. “When I saw Joe, that was completely over. I didn’t think of anyone else from then on.” The facts were, as you can see then, no match for the charm of Joe T. When she saw him, she knew. That was it, she knew. Wherever he was, that’s where she wanted to be.

The feeling was clearly mutual, because he started showing up everywhere she was. She didn’t have to chase him down. (That’s another way she knew.) “I was just drawn to him, and it seemed pretty clear that he was drawn to me too.” All of a sudden, they were enjoying the same baseball games, eating dinner or grabbing ice cream with friends at Dairy Queen, and he even managed stealing her away from her last scheduled date with (what was his name again?) the poor other guy that was so unfortunate as to just not be Joe. One man’s “can’t make it to the movies” was another man’s golden opportunity to ensure that he eliminated all competition. (Not that he really had any.) The rest is history. Interest and affection grew and were communicated quickly between the two love birds and things got serious fast. What one may call chance; just a simple encounter at a Coke machine at just the right time, was soon to become the foundation of a family.

In a radical whirlwind of timing that honestly kind of breaks my gen-z mind, Betty and Joe dated for a whopping three weeks before they got engaged. Sitting in a balcony of a movie theater, Joe leaned over, took her by the hand, and asked kindly and with the sweetest sincerity “Would you like to go pick out a ring in the morning?” to which my Mamaw, emphatically responded with the only answer she would even consider giving him: “yes!” A trip to the local jewelry store, a visit with her parents, and an additional three weeks later, the deal was sealed. Mamaw had become Mrs. Joe T. and the story had just begun. Through the years, they had 2 children and 4 grandchildren. (Split even down the middle: two boys, two girls.) They built a home together, filled with the love they found. Their house was my favorite house. Still is, really. They raised a garden, they raised a family. They had just celebrated 47 years together the year of his passing, only a small bit shy of their golden anniversary. Yesterday, August 10, would have marked 68 years of a lasting union between Joe and Betty. She misses him every day. I hear a story about Papaw every time we get on the phone together, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Their love was the real deal. Whatever Mamaw says she knew in that moment in the service station almost 70 years ago, she really, really knew it.

So, then, contrary to what you may perceive, this is not a promotional blog for love-at-first-sight. It’s really not even entirely about finding love. But, rather, it’s a testimony of the gentle nudging and intentional working of the pen of an all-knowing Author. Because what led Joe T. to an altar of matrimony would also, some 18 years later, lead him to an altar of repentance and completely revolutionize the foundation upon which my family was built. It was Papaw’s deep love for his wife and intimate knowledge of her character that reassured him when she encountered the Truth of God’s word and received the gift of the Holy Ghost that there must be something to it. He told those around “I know Betty, and there’s not any put-on in her. So, what she has must be real and I want it.” Shortly after, he was baptized in Jesus’ name and came out of the water speaking in tongues. Because of a decision to casually lean on a Coke machine in 1956, I now have the privilege to rifle through the pages of a Bible that belonged to a man that found something worth building his family on. When you know, you know, friends. Joe knew when he found Betty, but more importantly, Joe knew when he found Jesus. As one who profits greatly from both decisions, there isn’t a day that passes where I’m not grateful for a man that continually pursued what he simply knew to be for him.

You may not find true love in an instant. You may be engaged for more than three weeks. You may already be married to the love of your life. Love may not even be on your radar. But, my prayer today is that whatever you find to pursue in this season, you pursue it only if it is accompanied with peace. I pray you allow the ink of the Author’s pen to be the only ink on the pages of your life. I pray you find yourself in a place of complete surrender to a story you simply cannot write on your own. Who knows what He will pen next? But if you leave that pen in His hands, then when you know, you’ll really know. Just ask Betty about Joe.