Levi Deatrick

Our love story has some funny moments in it. But that humor also shows the depth of reality that exists in the word “love” between me and Carol.

Carol and I developed an interest in each other during the spring of 1997. The back story to our meeting is long and I’ll save for another time. However, our relationship had progressed to the point that I invited her to come to my home in northeast Missouri during our Christmas break from college in 1997. I was certain that she was the one to be my life’s partner and I was eager to take our relationship to the next step, though admittedly, I was nervous. I had never told any non-relative female that I loved her (I was 21 years old by this time). I believed that the word “love” was a special word not to be tossed around flippantly by teenagers.

One afternoon over Christmas break, she and I walked several times around a couple of blocks in my hometown. During that hour long walk, I kept wanting to tell her “I love you!” But I was nervous. What if that was too much for her? What if she said she wasn’t ready to go any further? She had already told me earlier that year that she wasn’t sure that we’d ever be more than friends. She had even tried to take a break from our relationship a few months earlier, but I just wasn’t interested in looking for anyone else and she consented to continue together for the time being. But, I wanted to tell her I loved her.

As she and I walked around, my heart kept telling me “tell her you love her, or you’ll always wish you would have!” I believe that God was prompting that thought in me (she later told me that she was thinking if I didn’t take it to the next level soon, that she was thinking it wasn’t going to go anywhere and was considering breaking it off permanently). Finally, through a bit of a play on words, she prompted me to tell her what was on my mind and heart and I looked at her, and barely able to breathe, I uttered those words, “Carol, I love you!” She looked at me with glowing eyes and the same smile that I saw as she walked down the aisle towards me a year and a half later, the same smile that makes my heart race when I see her walking towards me even today, and she said, “thank you.” 

What a dichotomy of emotions! I had, for the first time in my life, uttered the words “I love you” to the young woman with whom I wanted to spend an eternity; in my mind I had given her myself and it was the thrill of a lifetime! But the emotional pendulum swung hard and fast when I realized her response was less than my offering. I still smiled, and we walked around the block several more times, and had a wonderful Christmas Holiday together. But there was tension in my mind and heart.

I kept telling her that I loved her. Through the holidays and into the next school semester. We saw each other every day. I left her notes telling her of my love (we didn’t have cell phones to send texts). I would tell her daily and before we would return to our separate dorms each night. But her response was always “thank you.” I wondered: why won’t she tell me? Is she not sure? Is she afraid? Is she waiting for some reason of which I’m unaware? But you can’t force something like that. 

One day, she almost told me. She had a stressful situation before her and on her way to deal with it I told her, “I love you.” She turned to look at me and said “I lo….” and then her voice trailed off with out finishing the phrase and then gave me the familiar “thank you.” I was happy and disappointed all at once. I knew she was thinking it, I knew she wanted to say it, it was almost natural, but she still intentionally stopped herself from saying it. Uggh! 

February arrived. We began planning to attend the college Valentine Banquet together. We would have a couple of dates a week, often just in the school snack shop reading or studying, but still together. Our favorite date night was always Friday evening. We had planned a date for Friday afternoon/evening (February 13th, 1998). I was rather stressed with some classes and responsibilities, as well as what I felt was unrequited love, or at least the vocal statement of love. I was so looking forward to that evening with her, when I found out that one of the guys in my dorm was sick and needed to be taken to urgent care. As the RA, that was my responsibility – and I must say, I was not real happy with this guy or the situation. I missed most of our date. When I returned to the school, my demeanor was not jovial, in fact I was complaining – probably better classified as pouting. Carol and I only had a few minutes of time left together and we went and sat on the stone bench against the big old tree that used to be in the center of the college courtyard. As we sat there and I complained, she just looked at me and said without any fanfare or prelude, “I love you, Levi.” I was speechless. My eyes watered. Later I asked her, “why then?” She told me “that’s when you needed to hear it.” She also wanted to do it on her terms, not just in response to my words. She had also never given the offering of those words to anyone else in a romantic context. She had determined long before that she would only say those words to the man she was going to marry. I received those words with all the joy and appreciation of which my heart was capable.

A few months passed. We often talked about marriage. We regularly said, “I love you to each other.” One day we were walking and I said pointedly, “are you certain that you want to marry me?” She looked at me incredulously. She is a deep person and there is a fire inside of her that is well controlled, but there was a glint of it in her eye when she looked at me and said with conviction, “I told you that I loved you!” Interpret that to mean, “I wouldn’t have told you I loved you if I wasn’t sure I wanted to marry you!” I almost felt like I needed to apologize for even asking that question! We did get married a year later and it will be 25 years this next anniversary in May.

Here are a few thoughts: 1) Her love was given to me, not in response, but as a decision. 2) Her love was a lifetime commitment; before we ever said “I do” at the marriage altar, we were already committed to each other for life. 3) Her love was a gift to me. It was a gift which I’ve sadly taken for granted too often, but when I meditate on it, I realize that her entire person has been dedicated to me and our relationship.

So for us, “I love you” is more than a phrase on hard candy hearts, valentine cards, or several different boyfriends or girlfriends. It was an honest vow that we were committing ourselves to each other for life. February 13, 1997 – 27 years ago, I heard those words “I love you” for the first time, from the same lips which have kissed mine now thousands of times, night and day.

I love you, Carol. Then. Now. Forever.

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