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Regular readers of this blog know that I watch TLC’s “19 Kids and Counting–” a reality show featuring the family of Jim-B0b and Michelle Duggar. I make some people very happy with my blog posts on this family and get flames from others. Such is life!! So, when I spotted a used copy of their new book so I could “buy used and save the difference,” just like the Duggar’s recommend, I knew I’d have to review it here!

Like everything Duggar there is much to admire here: some good tips about listening to your children, listening to your spouse, spending time as a family, spending time in God’s word, gathering together with other believers, living debt free, controlling your anger, modeling good behavior, drawing close in times of crisis, and looking for learning opportunities all around you.

A Season of Re-Runs:

This book, however, does have a few flaws that need examining. First: repeat, repeat, repeat! Much of this book is a virtual transcript of several recent episodes of “19 Kids and Counting” (or it’s previous incarnations). If the reader has never seen an episode it might be new, but I doubt it. Like any politician, Jim-Bob “stays on message.” You can find nearly everything in this book in other radio or podcast interviews, newspaper or magazine stories or blog posts.

Another big problem is that this book, when not repeating everything said in the past, is a public relations exercise. Nearly everything the Duggars have ever been criticized for on message boards, blogs, in the press–it all gets “answered” here. Don’t expect any shocking answers! Jim-Bob stays on message.

Answering the Critics:

Josie’s birth:

The Duggars acknowledge that Josie’s birth put the biggest strain ever on their marriage. The demands of Mom being at the hospital with the baby, Dad trying to keep his real estate business and the rest of the family going in a new house with great limitations for their family, was tough. The endless strain, too, of the very real health problems Josie went thru and the never-ceasing demands of her 17 youngest brothers and sisters were very, very hard to cope with. They give all credit to God and to their strong faith in Him to see them through.

They also clear up misunderstandings about her medical bills. The Duggars HAVE health insurance. Ironically, Jim-Bob had been considering whether it was really worth the thousands of dollars per year to continue their coverage. Josie’s birth took away those doubts–probably forever! He had to pay both the 2009 and 2010 deductibles. That’s it.

Food: veggies and whole grains

In my previous posts, and in posts in other venues, I have often said that we only see on “19 Kids and Counting” what the editors want us to see. So, I wasn’t at all surprised that food, one of the things for which the Duggars are constantly harped at, was a big deal in this book. No, they clearly don’t exist only on Tater Tot Casserole and half-cooked Ramen noodles! There are recipes sprinkled throughout the book that demonstrate the “depth” of Duggar cuisine. Too bad the cookbook they recommend is only for sale on the ATI/IBLP website–I would have enjoyed trying it if it was widely available.

The Duggars are, by now, probably world famous for their love of pickles! They like canned veggies spritzed with vinegar as a quick snack as well as the normal fresh fruits, veggies that we all enjoy. I was pleased to see the Duggar kids, like my two, love lemons and limes just much as they do other fruits! For those who enjoy trying recipes with interesting ingredients there is an apple dumpling recipe made with Sprite or Mountain Dew!

It’s hard to envision an ATI family NOT owning a Bosch universal mixer and the Duggars, apparently, make good use of theirs. They reprint in full, with recommendations on the types of wheat they like best, the recipe for making whole grain bread in the Bosch. While everyone criticizes so much of their diet, I HAVE noticed that we never see them piling on tray after tray of spongy white bread at Aldis. Instead they seem to always buy “decent” whole wheat bread from somewhere like Sam’s or Costco. In this they are far ahead of many families. Apparently many of the Duggar kids, boys included, enjoy baking this bread. That’s nice to hear.

College:

While the Duggars have always maintained it’s fine for their children to go to college, the route chosen thru an arrangement called “College Plus,” suggests otherwise. College is not a a popular option–more like an occasional necessary evil, in most ATI families. “College Plus” is mostly a re-packaging of the College Level Examination Program (CLEP) added to life experience credits. Most colleges have limits to how many credits can be earned in this way. I believe, however, thru this book, the Duggars are preparing the way for one of their children, likely one of the big girls, to go to a “real” local college to finish a nursing degree.

ATI has a program called “Verity” which even provides an “on campus” version of a College-Plus-type approach to “college.” Students go to one of the ATI centers in Indianapolis to study and then pass CLEP tests giving them a limited college-like experience of living in a dormitory and interacting with other students…..all of whom believe like them and come from families exactly like theirs. Certainly not typical of any college I’ve been associated with–including the Christian one! Still, it is an option that does lead to an accredited degree.

It’s not surprising that both College Plus and Verity stress ideas dear to the Duggars–money and “protection” from the world. College Plus”[recognizes] the potential dangers, expense, and lack of efficiency in the traditional model for higher education.” (website) “Verity helps students avoid the pitfalls of traditional college campuses such as non-Christian professors, secular humanism, and loose campus morals. (website).

Dating:

Like most ultra-conservative Christian families today, the Duggars don’t “do” dating–except after they’re married (i.e., “date night”). They prefer “Courtship”–as shown on “17 Kids and Counting” when Josh and Anna were courting. It’s a highly supervised way of getting to know each other that mostly leads to marriage. Occasionally a courtship will be broken for a spiritual reason or similar. The Duggars stress “purity” and “not giving away pieces of your heart.” They helpfully reproduce a composite list of what their four eldest daughters are looking for in possible suitors. None of it is far fetched and much of it is common sense. They just choose a much more parent-controlled approach to meeting a spouse. Which is fascinating because Jim-Bob and Michelle dated and seem to have a darned good marriage.

Kids Raising Kids:

Another place they seemed to be answering critics was child care. On TV we have seen, until the most recent season, mostly the four eldest girls running the house, cooking, taking care of the little kids. In the book, the Duggars go to great lengths to show the depth of Michelle’s involvement with her children–especially homeschooling. (Did you know Michelle once worked as a substitute teacher in their local public schools? ) I feel strongly this is an area where we have seen mostly what the editors want us to see, but I also believe the girls have to do way, way too much.

Mr. Duggar, Senior’s, funeral:

The Duggars were badly abused in the press for allowing his father to be filmed in such a fragile condition and then for allowing the preparations for his funeral, and parts of the service itself, to be shown on TV. I am among those who felt this was exploitation and nothing else. I saw the faces of his mother’s friends coming to comfort her and how angry some were at the intrusion. This was wrong and nothing Jim-Bob writes about it showing their faith can change my opinion. This was wildly insensitive to his poor mother and to the extended family. No, Jim-Bob, sorry, this is not the same as showing Josh & Anna’ s courtship and wedding. Yes, it’s a natural part of life, but there are limits. Sorry, no pass on this one!

Disappointment:

Overall, as regular viewer of their show and having read their earlier book, this new book was a major disappointment. When I saw in one episode, that Michelle was journaling about Josie’s birth and struggles, I knew a book was coming. Sadly, this is not that book! There is good stuff if you are brand new to the Duggars. But what is most glaring is what is left out: the teachings of the Advanced Training Institute and Bill Gothard. You cannot tell me that the world-wide face of ATI, the Duggar Family of Arkansas, just “takes the good” and rejects the bad in ATI. No way, no how. Yet nowhere is there the “Umbrella of Authority” or father as the only one God speaks to or any of the other things taught in the Basic and Advanced Seminars or in other materials from the organization. No where do they mention the downright goofy teachings on names and health or some of the bizarre things in the Wisdom Booklets or health bulletins. What is presented are the few, very few, things that most mainstream Christians at least can agree to.

Their attempt to shrug off their Old Testament legalism for example is dismissed this way:

“As Christians we aren’t bound by Old Testament law, but we’ve found that some of the practices laid down all those years ago by our biblical ancestors still have merit today.” (p.18)

To me this is amazingly arrogant! So, what, Jesus died so you don’t have to obey this stuff, but you think you know better??? Wow.

Are They Quiverfull?

Well, by their thinking NO. They are free to call themselves what they like, but for a family so focused on “operational definitions,” I think they need to see that they meet ALL the criteria so I stand by my post “Are Jim-Bob & Michelle Duggar Quiverfull” which leads to the very obvious answer, “YES.” So would anyone be who follows Gothard’s teachings to the letter!

The good surprises:

I was touched to hear a few of the stories they shared in the book. One of the older boys calls home to tell Mom about the El Salvador trip and how he feels God calling him to be a missionary. That’s sweet and, while I hope they asked him before they shared it, it does show us Michelle’s connection to her kids. The Duggars have given their kids a life-changing education by taking them on these trips. I for one say it’s money well spent. (For the record I also truly admire them for working to make adoption an easier and faster process in El Salvador. And, I fully support their work for charity–I do believe they are 100% sincere in this work and more families should follow their example to work for causes they believe in.)

I was almost crying reading about the prayer sessions the family held for Josie and Michelle. I can just picture all those kids tearfully praying for God to heal their mother and the new baby. No matter the reason, losing a mother is a life-altering tragedy to be prevented in most cases. The terror those kids had to have felt was very, very real when I read the story.
I laughed out loud and gave Josh an “at-a-boy” for buying up the clearance-rack Big Mouth Billy Bass toys! Read the story to find out more. The Duggars have certainly raised their kids to know how to earn a buck when they need it! That’s something very few parents can be bothered to do today. I give Jim-Bob extremely high marks for the “efficient” ways he has found to support his family. Too many of us are too scared to leave a 40-hour a week job with benefits even though the outcome is not necessarily bad at all. His example gives courage to those wanting to be with their families more and to those who feel imprisoned by “jobs.”

So to recap, they tell some interesting stories, give us information on their habits, etc., that aren’t necessarily shown on TV, try to justify some less than great choices and soft-peddle the less-mainstream ideas of Bill Gothard’s ATI and continue to model very, very close family life without discussion of whether or not their adult children do honestly choose the life they are living.

Discuss this post on the NLQ forum! Comments are also open below.

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Looking back, I like many things about our story. I love that we were very honest about our needs and desires as we understood them at the time. I can imagine it would be more difficult to fall in love with someone and then find out afterwards they don’t want children and you do. I can see the benefits of being straightforward and asking the tough questions right away.

On the other hand, there were things that we could not talk about as well. Religious questions weren’t really that relevant, because we were so enmeshed in our families, we hardly had any beliefs that were truly ours, they were all dictated by our families. There are other tough issues that cannot come up when you have intense levels of parental control. Whatever is not safe to talk about in your family of origin, does not feel safe to bring up in the new relationship either.

I think that seeing our relationship as marriage focused was healthy. We weren’t dating just to date, we were discovering each other and searching each other to see if we could see ourselves together. (However I do feel that the marriage focus was taken to an extreme.) I also think that waiting to get involved in relationships until being old enough to start considering marriage makes sense.

I think that spending time together as families is a great idea. You have the opportunity to observe the persons interactions with their own family members and as well as yours. It helps you to learn how to interact with other people as a couple.

Respect for our bodies and sexuality was a good thing. I think it is healthy to have good boundaries in a relationship. Good communication about expectations and mutual respect for each other is pivotal.

The problem is, all of those things could have been implemented by my husband and I as adults in our own relationship. We could have (probably would have) been serious about marriage, boundaries and family relationships and involvement, without the parental control that the idea of Courtship is founded on.

Actually I can’t think of a single benefit from the parental control and pressure we had throughout our relationship. Even after we were married, it took several years for us to truly “leave and cleave”. We had never been allowed to be our own persons, and old habits died very hard. We would consult our parents and make decisions (trivial or important) based on what they told us. Eventually we progressed to where we would make our own decisions and fret about how to tell our parents what we had decided. It took four years to get to the point that we made decisions and didn’t bother to tell them at all! We were both nearly twenty years old when we started our Courtship, and every decision was taken out of our hands as though we were fourteen year olds. I can only be grateful that my parents were not as extreme as some in the same mindset, such as this girl who was betrothed against her will and ran away from home to escape. Read her story in this order. ONE, TWO, THREE, and FOUR.)

My parents had a long set of rules we were expected to keep during our courtship. Looking back, it strikes me as pretty creepy. My parents were obsessed with controlling a fully grown child’s sex life. I was expected to ask them permission to do anything, and abide by their decision. It was none of their business what my boyfriend/fiancé and I were doing or not doing. The job of a parent entails teaching their children to respect their bodies and even passing on their religious beliefs if they wish too, NOT being the sexual purity police in another adult’s relationship.

In the end, every boundary I had wanted, stayed in place.

My fiancé and I respected the boundaries that each of us had set in place through evaluating our own values and convictions at the time. My parents rules simply did not stick. I was on my way out of their house and their control, and I had no incentive to follow their dictations any longer. (Other than attempting to keep them happy until the wedding day so that we could get married without having to elope.) I had broken out of the mind control enough to realize I would rather get married to my fiancé than live at home, and we did everything in our power to get that to happen smoothly. Other couples were not so lucky.

There was so much emphasis on avoiding sin, and a major burden to get married quickly to “stay pure”. If you stayed in a relationship for a long period of time, it was assumed that you would fall into temptation and end up sleeping together before marriage, and then your marriage would be doomed to fail, or even worse you could end up not getting married to that person and then you would have sexual baggage and be considered “damaged goods”. If you did slip up and have sex before marriage, you pretty much had to get married if you wanted to “make the sin right”. I would rather have my children take as much time as they need to be sure of their choice, (even if that means they fall into temptation) than to rush things and get married prematurely to avoid premarital sex. Having sex outside of marriage may cause damage, but getting married to a person you do not love, or turns out to be abusive is a far more permanent mistake that is very difficult to remedy.

Aside from rushing to get married in the interest of “staying pure”, there was also major pressure for the courtship to be “successful”. Any time spent with the opposite sex was seen as risky. I was not allowed to hang out with a group of young people without my parents present. Group dates were off limits, any sort of one-on-one dating was practically as bad as having sex. Everyone “knew” that the minute 2 young people were left to their own devices (somehow regardless of how well they knew each other) they would be engaging in inappropriate sexual activity. The risk of flirting, touching, or kissing someone who was not going to end up being your spouse was too high to allow young people to be around each other.

Pretty much any interaction between two people of the opposite sex was supposed to be reserved for marriage. The whole idea is pretty dysfunctional, because in the real world you really have to be able to interact with either sex on a regular basis. This type of gender separation leads to social disability as well as sexual issues in marriage. To this day I am instinctively suspicious of men and still find myself occasionally falling into old habits like avoiding eye contact with males, or obsessing over my neckline or how my hips are moving as I walk. It can take women (and me) a long time to get over the sexual messages too. It took several years for both my husband and I to loosen up and really communicate in the bedroom, body image and shame as well as messages about the roles each spouse is supposed to play in a “Christian” marriage, are terrible barriers to true intimacy and partnership. (Read Darcy’s excellent series on “How the Teachings of Emotional Purity and Courtship Damage Healthy Relationships”, Part ONE, TWO, and THREE.)

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Parents want to protect their children from harm. Many parents are drawn to ideas like Courtship because they want to give their children the best, and they remember their own mistakes. The problem is, there is no way to control the choices of a grown child. Yes, you can teach them to respect themselves and others, you can explain your beliefs about marriage and sex, you can encourage them to wait on relationships until they are old enough to consider marriage. But in the end, their actions are up to them. I believe that parental control of adult children always goes badly. There is no way a parent can completely know the desires and priorities of their adult child. Will your child make less than wise choices over their lifetime? Yes. As a child and as an adult they will probably make choices you don’t agree with. That is not your fault. It is not your responsibility to keep your child from living.

As for my husband and I? It’s kind of like we were betrothed in the old world. Even though we love each other and consider ourselves blessed and fortunate, now that we have immigrated into the new world we wouldn’t want to put our kids through that process. We trust that our children will be ready to make their own decisions as adults when it comes to picking a mate. When I was talking to a counsellor recently, she had only heard a fraction of my story and she was amazed that I was still married and claimed to love my husband. My husband and I somehow fell in love very quickly, and we clung to each other through all of the craziness and change of our lives together. The fact that we were both around the same age, have much of the same background, and both became disillusioned with our pasts at around the same time, and were not afraid to talk about the issues and get help, have played a large part in the “success” of our marriage so far, and our marriage is still a work in progress. The reasons my husband and I are still together, are largely grounded in our own values and priorities. They have nothing to do with how our marriage was arranged and controlled by our parents.

Courtship is not the answer.

Even a perfectly planned, controlled and executed courtship will not protect your child from marriage conflict, or even a bad marriage.

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We spent most of our time together at our family homes, so we also spent a lot of our time together trying to evade family. Since we were engaged we were allowed to go on short excursions alone to public places. So we ran errands for the wedding, like picking up my wedding dress after the alterations were finished, or running to the mall to pick out “Hunk”’s wedding band. When we were around my house, we went for lots of walks together, and I even took him up to my secret spot on the garage roof where we could be alone.

At the end of June (about 3 weeks out from the wedding) I went on another trip with “Hunk” and his family. We all flew out to spend a week with his extended family and introduce me to his grandma. Again, time together was wonderful! Like the weekend early that same month, we ended up getting a lot closer on this trip. His family mostly left us alone when there were no planned events, so we had days of uninterrupted time to wander around the parks in the area.

Up until this point, we had been able to keep my parents rules for the most part. My Dad still hadn’t approved hugging, and we did hug when we were out of his eyesight. But other than that we were being very careful. The emphasis on no physical touch just seemed to heighten the desire for it all the more. I was torn between really wanting to get closer to My Love, but still feeling an incredible burden to obey my parents and give a good example for my siblings. My parents always explained the reasons for their rules being that “kissing would inevitably lead to other stuff”. On this trip, it became apparent to “Hunk” and I that you could get around to “other stuff” even if you never technically kissed. The whole thing started to feel ridiculous, and “Hunk” was getting frustrated. We both knew that the no kissing rule was silly, and we both wanted to kiss, but I was still saying no each time he asked me, and he respected that no.

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After we returned from the trip, I was getting fed up. We had all this pressure to be a wonderful example of what finding your spouse “the Christian way” meant, and I didn’t want to pretend that meant we hadn’t gone beyond holding hands. Maybe it was possible to go through courtship and engagement without any physical connection, but it didn’t feel like as big a deal as I was supposed to think it was and our relationship wasn’t turning out that way.

At church everyone was so impressed with our Courtship (aside from the pregnancy rumours that continued to circulate), many parents in the church saw us as a wonderful example of a “pure” relationship, and used it to bolster their own opinions of their authoritative role as parents in their own children’s lives. I even heard from one Quiverfull mom who was planning on bringing her 6 children (all under the age of ten) to the wedding because she wanted them to see how we had “saved our first kiss”. It felt hypocritical to stand up at our wedding and kiss for the first time, thereby implying that we had zero physical connection throughout our engagement. So 8 days before the wedding I decided that the charade was over and on a walk to the park near my house, I kissed him (or should I say attacked him!).

It was such a relief to have it over with and not have to think about it anymore! Later that day, I informed my Mom that the kissing ban was officially over since I had kissed “Hunk”. She was disappointed, but fairly understanding. She said it was good that we had held out against temptation as long as we did, and that one day I would be grateful we hadn’t kissed. When my Dad heard, his just made the tight-lipped look that he gets when he isn’t happy, but I guess since the wedding was so close, he decided to let it slide.

At some point in that week before the wedding, my Mom decided to talk with me about sex, for the first time since I got the bare bones basics “where babies come from” talk at 11 years old. She basically asked if I had any questions about the wedding night. I asked her if losing your virginity was painful, and she replied that she didn’t really remember, but that she didn’t think so. And that was it. A few months after the wedding, she pulled me aside and asked if I knew that women could have orgasms. I have to admit I laughed when I told her that thankfully I had figured out a few things on my own thanks to books and the internet.

“Hunk” and I never had any pre-marital counselling. I guess the idea was that since we were both Christians and had extensive involvement of our parents who had determined that we were compatible, it was unnecessary. Plus “Hunk”’s Dad was a Pastor, so we had some chats with him that I guess were supposed to be a substitute for counselling. We never talked about Family systems or background or boundaries, or conflict resolution, or finances, or anything much really. He gave us a book on sex and told us what we’d been hearing since we were young, “sex is great, but only when you are married”.

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The day of the wedding dawned beautiful and sunny. I showered and went over to the church early. My sisters and I did our own hair (I wore mine down in loose curls) and I put on a little eye makeup and some lipstick. We all had our pictures taken. I loved my wedding dress. We had found it on the clearance rack and it had fit me perfectly (with the exception of the 8 inches they cut off the bottom). The bodice was satin, with a belt and neckline of white beading. The floor length skirt was satin with a sheer layer over it, and it had a small train. My favourite part was the sleeves, they were long, sheer and flared out at the edges, like a princess. The neckline was scooped to a few inches below my collar bone, and a bit lower than my Dad liked. But the price had been very good, and the dress was very modest overall, so in the end it had been approved.

The ceremony went smoothly. Neither of us had that many childhood friends (he had one good friend, I had none) and we wanted to include our many siblings, so we opted to have just siblings stand up. I had everyone over age 8 (4 sisters and a brother) on my side, and he had all 4 of his sisters. I walked up the aisle to “Be Thou my Vision” and I hardly remember who was there, I was so focused on “Hunk” at the end of the aisle. The sermon is a blur in my mind, I do know that it seemed longwinded, and since his Dad was doing it there was a lot of stuff about “Hunk” in it, and like nothing about me which was a bit strange. As the vows approached, I was so nervous. I felt hot and cold and shaky, I could feel my face burning and later looking at the photo’s I realized that my skin had been white and covered in red splotches. “Hunk” told me later that he wondered if I was going to pass out! I made it through just fine, promising to submit to him in all things (I did try at first, but I never was very good at that) our parents came up to pray over us and then we were pronounced husband and wife.

We had a wonderful time taking pictures as a couple, and then the reception began. We had a buffet luncheon of fruit and sandwiches (which turned out very nice) and then spent some time going from table to table to greet and thank our guests. The one major regret I have is that just as we had finished greeting “Hunk”’s family and the church members, and were getting to the tables with our friends and my extended family, “Hunk”’s Dad (who was the self-appointed MC) told us that we needed to sit down because they were going to start the speeches and other programs. He said that we could get back to greeting the rest of the guests afterwards so I gave in, but we never did get to say hello to the rest of the guests.

We had been informed that we needed to tell our courtship story so that people could see an example of a courtship that had “worked” (aka ended in marriage) so I went up to the mike and shared a synopsis of our story, and I was sure to include the fact that the kiss in the ceremony was not our first, for the sake of all the other young couples to follow in the courtship mindset. There was no dancing, since this was a fundamentalist wedding, and when my Dad went up for his speech he told us to be sure to have lots of babies since he was looking forward to grandchildren. I remember feeling slightly disappointed that he didn’t really have much more to say about me, but I had mostly expected that.

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Late in the afternoon the guests were starting to leave, and “Hunk” and I were ready to take off. After saying goodbye to parents and siblings, my Dad shook “Hunk”’s hand and passed us a little spending cash. We climbed into our car and drove away. We made a quick stop to grab our bags and change our clothes and then we settled in for our drive to our honeymoon location. We were both tired from the long day, and tense from so much interaction with family. But as time went on we found ourselves relaxing and falling back into our usual pattern of talking about our experiences of the day. We spent some time opening all the wedding cards and reading the funny notes inside and counting the cash. We stopped at a Chinese buffet to eat and by the time we got to our destination 3 hours later we were feeling at ease together.

We spent a delicious 6 days alone in that little condo. We ate out together, and when we stayed in I cooked way too much food (that’s what happens when you are used to cooking for a dozen people). We went for walks, and watched movies together. We went to the beach (where I’m pretty sure we completely disgusted everyone with our displays of affection) and we spent many (rather awkward) hours in bed together. It was so wonderful to be alone, without anyone else to tell us what to do. We did interrupt our honeymoon for one evening, at the request of “Hunk”’s Dad. He wanted us to meet with him and the family at the home of a wealthy supporter of his ministry. So we went, because it was “important”. The rest of the time was ours, and that week came to a close all too soon.

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We moved around for the next few weeks staying with family, until the Seminary Apartments were open for us to move in. After 3 months together (at barely 20 years old) we were starting married life, but we still had so much to learn about each other.

We got pregnant right away, and I spent the first several months of marriage puking so much that I lost 15 pounds. Then we lost that baby, and when we got pregnant again a few months later, we lost that baby as well. We grieved and struggled through depression together. Hunk was taking 19 credit hours of graduate work, and working for his Dad’s ministry and was often exhausted and working long into the night. I was a stay-at-home wife, trying to process the loss of our first two babies.

Since we had gotten married “God’s way”, we were told that we would have a free pass on all the problems that come with marriage. But we had a lot to learn about communication. He alternately confided in me and ordered me around, I alternately “rebelled against his authority” and submitted. We fought. A lot. We fought about religion, finances, gender roles, and family boundaries. Both of us were far too enmeshed in our families of origin, and it took a long time for us to truly “leave and cleave”.

Be sure to come back tomorrow for my concluding thoughts on Courtship…

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Hunk and I and our parents set the wedding date that same night. He was going to graduate school (3 hours away) that August, and we both knew that we did not want to risk our parents nixing a wedding before next summer. A wedding over Christmas or spring break sounded complicated, and we both knew that he would be distracted from his schoolwork driving down to see me. Secretly I felt that I would go insane if I had to go days and days without seeing him. After a few calls to family members who lived some distance away, we settled on a date in July, eight short weeks away.

I now had a ring on my finger, and people who knew me at violin classes were shocked, they hadn’t even known I was dating anybody, and now I was engaged? I was getting married that summer? Who was this guy? Even at our conservative church there were similar reactions, and rumours started circulating that we were pregnant. One of my acquaintances in the church told me that I was being risky, that I “didn’t know that “Hunk” had been after pretty much every girl in the church.” That bothered me some, why would someone say that about him? I didn’t remember seeing that aspect of him over the year I had been in the church. I even talked to my Dad about it, wondering if I should ask “Hunk” what that girl had been talking about. My Dad said that peers opinions were pointless, the real people that mattered were “Hunks” parents, did they have good things to say about their son? Then everything must be fine. In the end I considered the source of the negative comments and decided to ignore it.

**********************

I stressed alot about leaving my family. As the oldest sibling I had so many responsibilities, would my mom be able to do it all without me? I knew my leaving meant that the sisters next down in the birth order would be taking on my chores, and I felt guilty for leaving them with that burden. I felt a burden to be a protector and encourager of my siblings, and even though I failed miserably at times, I loved them all so much. Someone else would be fixing their hair, practicing violin with them, and baking with them. Would any of them even remember me once I moved out? I tried to make time to connect with each sibling by taking each of them out on a date with me in the weeks before the wedding.

I felt the worst about leaving my six year old sister. This was the sister that I had cared for since my mom had put in my bedroom as an infant. I had been almost exclusively responsible for dressing her, grooming and bathing her, feeding her and correcting her. In recent years I had been homeschooling her as well, and she was making good progress in reading and writing and violin. Would she get the attention she needed after I was gone? She was very angry about my getting married, and told me that I couldn’t do it because “then I would have to move in with ‘him’”. I tried to explain to her that I wanted to live with “Hunk”, but that I still loved her and I would miss her so much. She didn’t take it well, and would hardly talk to me over the next six months or so. It was very hard for me to leave her.

*********************

Engagement was a really awkward and frustrating time in relating to my parents. They continued to control so much of our relationship, and it was hard for us to set any boundaries because in the patriarchal mindset I was still under my father’s authority. I really wanted to make it to the wedding smoothly without too much conflict, so I continued to try and balance my relationship with my fiancé with obedience to my parents. But in my heart, my loyalties were already shifting to “Hunk”. I was tired of asking my parents permission for every little thing, and “Hunk” would sometimes get frustrated with my inability to make decisions on my own.

I tried to focus on spending as much time as I could with my fiancé and took a backseat in the wedding planning. It was easier to just let the parents plan most of it, instead of arguing over stuff. My mantra was “As long as I get to walk down the aisle in a white dress, I’m happy.” And for the most part that was true.

We did put our foot down once. “Hunk” had arranged to borrow a relatives’ brand new condo for our honeymoon the week after the wedding, but my Dad had a problem with the fact that it was 3 hours away. According to him, once we were officially married the first thing we would want to do was have sex, 3 hours away was too long of a drive for us to handle. We explained that we were sure that we could make it a bit longer in order to get to our destination, and it might even be nice to have a drive and relax after the hubbub of the wedding. But he insisted that we would regret it. He even offered to get us a hotel room 20 minutes from the church where we could stay for two nights before heading up to the condo. We compromised by agreeing to let him get the hotel room with the understanding that he and mom could go there themselves for a nice getaway if “Hunk” and I decided on making the drive after the wedding.

*******************

In early June (1 month after our courtship had begun) I went on a trip with “Hunk” and his family a two days drive away, to attend a wedding of a friend of the family. The trip was wonderful. At the wedding dinner I had a glass of champagne (my first alcohol ever) and we danced slowly together at the reception. I felt so beautiful around him. I soaked up all the uninterrupted time with My Love, and we talked more than ever.

His family allowed us a bit more freedom since we were engaged, so the whole drive down we were together in the backseat sitting as closely together as possible and talking. I got to go to the Atlantic ocean for the first time in my life, and we spent a day there in the sun and the water. Even though my parents were still against physical contact, “Hunk” and I ended up getting a lot closer on that trip. After a long day at the beach, we snuggled tiredly in a hammock together and when his mom took a picture of us I joked that she shouldn’t develop that picture until after the wedding, since according to my dad we weren’t even allowed to hug yet. We were still trying to keep from kissing each other, so even though we spent hours with our foreheads touching looking into each others eyes thinking about kissing, we refrained.

One night we walked down to the beach together, and spent some time looking at the stars that hung so low it was almost as though I could reach out and grab them out of the sky. It felt so peaceful there, I wished we could stay forever. I was starting to feel so comfortable with “Hunk”, I was more and more certain of my choice to marry him, it felt like freedom. We danced together in the moonlight, barefoot in the surf. Then “Hunk” picked me up to swing me around, and in the dark my lips bumped into his. A moment later we sprang away from each other and I covered my mouth with my hand wondering if this was my first kiss? “Hunk” apologized right away, and I tried to explain it away in my head. It couldn’t really be a kiss right? There was no pre-meditation (on my part at least and our lips had barely touched. As we walked back to join his family at the place we were all staying, I decided that it was kind of a kiss, after all it was such a romantic place to have a first kiss! I wanted to kiss him again (for real this time!) But I had been told over and over how kissing would instantly lead to sex, and I wanted to obey my parents and be a good example to my siblings of “purity”. This kiss had felt so beautiful and natural, not bad or dirty at all. But there was no way I was telling my parents about this, I resolved to redouble our efforts to be more careful from now on.

******************

On the drive back home, I was sad. Still so many weeks till the wedding, it seemed like an eternity away. I didn’t really want to go back to living in my parent’s home till then. We snuggled in the back seat, and “Hunk” reassured me that he would be coming to see me pretty much every day, we would make it alright. When we pulled up to my family’s house and all the kids spilled out of the door to greet us, I could tell right away my parents were displeased. My shoulders were badly burned from our day at the sunny beach, and I had worn a tank top (normally reserved for layering under shirts to make my necklines more modest) for the drive home. My mom pulled me aside and told me that Dad wanted me to change. I tried to explain about my painful shoulders, but she said that I was not only deliberately tempting my fiancé by wearing it, I was being a bad example to my younger siblings. I changed my shirt.

And counted down the days.

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Two days later, I was allowed to drive over to “Hunk’s” house for the first time (with a sister along) and when I got there we went for a walk around the block alone (his family was a bit more liberal than mine). I had explained to my Dad that it felt very awkward to not be able to touch at all, and he had approved of us holding hands and promised to give “Hunk” a call to give him permission to do so.

So we held hands as we walked, and I told “Hunk” about a dream I’d had where he had told me “well, this has been nice, but you’re not the one for me.” He replied with a shocked look “How could those words come out of my mouth!?” We walked in silence for a few moments, and then he said quietly “That’s actually one of my biggest fears, is that you will say ‘well, you’re smart and everything, but not what I’m looking for.” We spoke more about our fears of rejection, and then a bit about what we liked about each other. It started to get dark outside, and the moon rose with what looked like a rainbow hovering around it. I told him about my verse and “the time of the singing”, he smiled and said that he thought that the singing was here. We were reluctant to end our walk and head back into the house with the family, but eventually we did.

I was trying as hard as I could to not be afraid of letting down my walls, so I wanted to get the last few serious questions out of the way before I relaxed and let the relationship go wherever it was going to go. Before the week ended, I asked him about his sexual/relationship history (he had held hands with a girl he courted briefly the year before) and shared my own (Zip). I asked about sexual expectations in marriage. Then I asked if he had ever had any addictions, smoking, drugs, alcohol or pornography. Again, I think he was a bit shocked at my forwardness, but he was willing to answer as honestly as possible. By the end of that awkward conversation, I felt like we were on the same page.

******************************

Our parents asked about everything all the time, how was it going? What had we talked about? Were we being careful to maintain physical boundaries? And most of all, did we feel like this was going anywhere? It was most important to figure out if we were compatible for each other, there was no point to wasting time in this relationship if we weren’t going to get married.

We got together as much as we could, I was rarely allowed to drive his way, so he mostly came to my house, where we hung out in the corner of the living room and talked in whispers. Now that we were allowed, we were always holding hands. But hugs or kisses or anything else was still strictly off limits. So we would sit on the couch as closely together as possible without our bodies actually touching. I remember wanting so badly to touch his hair. There was so much emphasis on not being allowed to physically touch, it seemed like sparks should go off if our shoulders or arms brushed against each other.

There was a sense of urgency from both families, were we going to get married or not? We had to figure it out quickly before we gave away pieces of our hearts or (even worse) compromised our purity.

On the one hand, I was feeling more and more that I wanted to be with “Hunk”. He was the first person that had ever made feel as though I was beautiful. He was respectful, he listened to me without interrupting me or belittling what I said. He was a sincere Christian who took his faith seriously. He interacted well with children and adults, we never seemed to run out of stuff to talk about, and he had even survived several hour long discussions alone with my father! When I imagined being married and waking up in the morning I could picture him sleeping on the pillow next to me.

On the other hand, we hardly knew each other at all. We had met a year before, and interacted a bit more in the last few months, but was this enough to be sure about a lifetime together? He was going to be a minister, and my family had been “home churching” alone for most of my upbringing, would I be able to handle being a minister’s wife? He had finished his high school and bachelor’s degree early, and was heading into graduate school that fall; I had some sketchy home school high school. His family was reformed in theology, and mine was a weird patriarchal kind of Baptist with some Pentecostal flavour for good measure who refused to subscribe to any actual denomination.

Despite my questions (and the fact that we had been courting for less than 2 weeks) I could not imagine going back to my dreary life before “Hunk”. Every day, I looked forward to seeing him. The days we could not see each other dragged and seemed to last forever, and I wrote pages about him in my journal. I soaked up every little bit of attention, even the somewhat cheesy romantic moments. Like when he called me on the phone to tell me that the moon had a rainbow around it just like the first night we had held hands. Or when we sat on the couch together, and starting with “Once upon a time…” he told me the story of how we met. He told me that he loved my body, curves and all, that there was nothing about me that wasn’t beautiful to him. I could still hardly believe it, if felt too good to be true.

As I was pulling out of the driveway after one of our visits that week, he said “I love you”. I hesitated only a second before I said it back and then accelerated down the road in embarrassment, my heart thumping wildly.

***********************

Monday night was Greek class, and I had been looking forward to seeing him again the whole day, but that afternoon my Dad announced that he would not be able to go, therefore none of us were allowed to go. I pleaded for him to reconsider, but it was no use. I explained that I had been counting on Greek class to be able to see “Hunk” and he replied that I had just seen him the day before at church, that as my father he did not approve of my driving anywhere at night (which made no sense because I had driven at night before), and that I had been driving over to see “Hunk” too much anyways; if “Hunk” really wanted to see me that was his prerogative as the male in the relationship.

I was frustrated, (even shedding a few tears) but what could I do? “Rebelling” was out of the question in my mind, as a dutiful stay-at-home daughter, I resolved to “obey” cheerfully. I called “Hunk” to let him know that I was not allowed to attend Greek class. “Hunk” was frustrated on the phone, and to my surprise he called me back a few hours later to tell me that he had cancelled Greek class and was coming over to see me instead. My Dad smiled and said “I told you that if he really wanted to see you he would make it happen.”

**************************

Dad had left by the time “Hunk” walked in the door with a handful of wild flowers, and we spent the evening with my mom and siblings, eating dinner and having devotions. Then we sat close together on the couch. After awhile “Hunk” said he had something he wanted to read to me, he grabbed a bible off the table and read me “my verse”.

As he closed the bible and knelt on the floor in front of me, I could hardly breath. All the background noises of children playing in the same room faded away, drowned out by the rushing in my ears.

He pulled out a box with the ring inside and said, “I love you, and I want to spend my life with you. Will you marry me?” It was 15 days after our courtship had begun. Part of me could not believe it was happening, I was afraid of saying yes… it was all so new, so much unknown.

And yet, I was more afraid to say no. “Hunk” was far more than I had ever imagined I would have, I loved being with him, and I could not imagine living day after day without him. Looking into each other’s eyes, we both knew that we were living on borrowed time. All it would take was a father’s disapproval or an argument between our parents for this to be over (or at the very least a whole lot more complicated) before we had a chance go any further.

I took a shaky breath, and shrieked “Yes!” and then since I was not allowed to kiss him, I plunged my fingers through his hair. After he slid the ring on my finger I asked him in a whisper if he had asked my Dad’s consent and he whispered back that he had called my Dad on the phone while on the drive over and asked permission, my Dad had given it.

I felt like I was walking on air, it was hard to stop giggling. I was engaged! To a tall gangly boy who wore his heart on his sleeve. And miraculously, it had somehow happened with my parent’s approval.

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We had a good time talking and getting more comfortable being around each other that first day of our courtship. And best of all we were able to see each other again the very next day at Greek class. It was kind of nice to be officially courting, because now we could get down to business and talk in more depth about our beliefs and what we were hoping for in a marriage relationship and children.

That Monday after Greek class (while my sisters hung around and waited for me to be ready to leave) we even talked a little bit about ideas for a wedding. Before I left that night “Hunk” gave me a letter to open the next day (he called it “sad Tuesday”) since we wouldn’t be able to see each other.

I got to open it the next day and it was my first “love letter” of sorts, detailing how excited he was to start this relationship with me and that he couldn’t wait to see me the next day. I must have read it 20 times that day, and I still have that letter tucked in my old journal now.

For Wednesday we planned to get together at the church where I taught some violin lessons in the morning. We each had a sister along to hang out in the church and chaperon while “Hunk” and I ate the lunch I had made and talked. After we ate I pulled out my list. I was very serious and intentional about what I believed and what I would not be OK with in a marriage relationship. Over time I had written 4 pages of theological, relational and child raising questions that I considered important. Some of them were non-negotiable in my mind, such as whether or not he was a Christian, what his beliefs on birth control were, and if he believed that men and women were equal. Some things on the list were preferences, like would he be open to homeschooling and was he OK with the fact that I have some food allergies. And still others I was just curious about, such as would he be willing to talk about things that made him angry or was he a quiet thinker type, what did he like to do for fun, what were some of his best memories from childhood?

I think ”Hunk” was kind of surprised at the size of my list, but he answered all my questions openly, and even came up with a few of his own on the spot. When we were done, there was moment of awkward silence, and then “Hunk” said “well, I guess now we just have to hang out and see if we click.”

He drove over to my house for dinner with the family on Thursday, and again on Friday. We planned to go on our first real live date to the zoo that Saturday. I could hardly wait. One of his sisters and one of mine tagged along to chaperone, and we had an amazing time walking around the zoo and talking, and talking and talking. We talked about dreams for the future, hopes and convictions. I loved that he was willing to engage on every topic that came up, and that he continued to take whatever I was saying seriously, and respect my opinions.

Our sisters took some pictures of us together, and looking at them now, you can see the happiness in my face in every single one. I remember him telling me that I was beautiful at some point that day, and my heart just soared. Towards the end of the day, I slipped walking up some stairs and as I regained my balance I saw that he had reached forward to take my hand, and I found myself wishing that we had permission to hold hands.

When I got home that night, I started to feel slightly panicky. All my life I had been told that men were pigs, only cared about sex, and could not be trusted. I had built a huge wall of protection around my heart, never letting anyone get through. I prided myself on the fact that at 19 years old, I had never kissed or held hands with anyone, and that I never hugged males. I had been trained to be very modest in my dress, taught how to walk without swaying my hips, and how to avoid flirting in any way. I could not understand how after only a week of official courtship, I was falling for this guy.

Could it possibly be OK to have feelings for “Hunk” already? Was it safe to be letting down the wall around my heart? How could I have let so many of my protection mechanisms go in just a few days?

I talked to my parents about it, and expressed that I was nervous about the whole thing. They told me that this was fairly normal, but that it was good to be careful. Don’t give away too much of your heart, but realize that God could be leading this somewhere.

After talking with them, I sat on the couch praying and crying a little, just wondering how to trust my feelings. I worried that if I let myself fall in love that it would only come to nothing and that my heart would get broken. That I would get my hopes up, and then he would call it all off, or my parents would find some reason to object to the match.

Eventually, I looked over at the end table and noticed a small porcelain clock that I had never seen before. I picked it up, and while looking at the little birds etched on it I noticed some writing on the bottom edge of the clock.

“…For the time of the singing of the birds has come.”

My heart jumped as I read it over again. I could not believe that my verse was staring me right in the face. I called my mom over and asked her where this clock had come from, and she told me that it had come in the mail that day from a great aunt of mine.

I was flooded with joy, feeling as though God had sent that clock just for me, to let me know that it was safe to let my guard down and allow myself to be vulnerable.

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Mid April, my friend the Greek teacher walked up to me at a church event and started talking to me. We chatted about C.S. Lewis and Victor Hugo and suddenly I saw “Hunk” in a different light. He was interesting, he actually listened to stuff I was saying instead of keeping quiet just long enough to formulate his response. When I saw him the next week, he ended up hanging out by me again. We talked, if I walked into another room he would wander in there himself a few moments later. I started to think that maybe he was interested in me, but I still wasn’t sure if I was interested in him.

“Jay” was still on Military leave, and he randomly tried to make conversation with me during that Sunday, maybe he was trying to “get to know me better” so I would change my mind. Later when “Jay” went back to base, I noticed that his brothers and parents were kind of following me around at church and trying to make their way into any conversation I was having with “Hunk”.

At a church potluck at the end of April, I noticed “Hunk” talking to another girl at some point during the day, and I was surprised by some feelings of jealousy. She was the girl that I considered an educated, prettier, skinnier version of myself, surely he would lose interest in me after hanging out with her. (I had no idea she was talking about the new raw diet she was trying out, and that he was bored and trying to figure out a way to get out of the conversation politely.) Later that day “Hunk” and I arranged to get together under the guise of letting our siblings hang out.

The day they were scheduled to come over, I was nervous. I’m sure it showed. I took a shower, covered blemishes with concealer, and even wore the only pair of pants I owned without express reason or permission from my parents. (“Hunk” liked those jeans, it was the first time he’d ever seen me in pants. I still have them even though they no longer fit me.) We ate lunch at our house, and all of us hung out and chatted.

At some point we started talking about maybe going to see a movie together, so we all piled into the 15 passenger van and drove off to see “The Pacifier” with Vin Diesel. All the siblings that were with us got their tickets, but by that time “Hunk” and I had decided that we could do without the movie, we wanted to make the most of our chance to talk. They went into the theatre and we went back to the van, and he asked if we could run over to the nearby mall and get a coffee together. I hesitated, because technically I was not allowed to be alone with a person of the opposite sex, so I called my Dad on the cell phone and asked for permission to get coffee. My Dad said no, and that if we were not going to the movie in the company of our siblings, we would need to come back home. So we drove the 5 minutes back to my house and sat in the living room with the babies and talked, and talked.

By now we were kind of discussing what the various courtship rules of our families were, and later that day when he and his siblings went home, we were both excited about how much we related to each other.

At a church event later that week, we talked some more (all while trying to evade the creepy pursuit of “Jay’s” family who was still trying to keep an eye on me). By the end of the night, “Hunk” asked what our family believed about courtship, and I replied that the guy interested would have to speak to my dad. He said “would it be OK if the guy asked the girl if she was interested first?” I said that I thought it would be. So he asked me if I would be willing for him to ask my Dad’s permission to court me.

My heart beat faster as I said that “I’d give it a try”.

*******************

On Sunday, ”Hunk” wore all black, and fidgeted through the entire hour long sermon. Afterwards he approached my Dad to ask. My Dad already knew it was coming because he had already talked to “Hunk’s” father about it. My Dad approved of everything he’d had a chance to observe so far, so we were promptly invited over to dinner as a family. Our families ate together, and then the siblings were dismissed so the parents could restate the rules of the courtship. No touching of any kind, the goal was to see if we were compatible for marriage and that was subject to the review of the parents at any time, we were not allowed to go or be anywhere without a parent approved chaperon. Then each father prayed aloud for the beginning of this courtship, and we were told that we could walk around the back yard (where they could see us from the window) and talk some more, which we gladly did.

Our Courtship had begun.

Discuss this post on the NLQ forum!

[Note: The "My Courtship Story" series is being crossposted from the blog: Permission to Live: Musings of a Young Mom.]

Read all posts by Young Mom!

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Now that I had given up on being anything but what my parents wanted from me, I began to gain some sort of sense of contentment. I was still afraid that I was going to be a stay at home daughter the rest of my life, but I had hope that “the time of the singing” would eventually come. So I poured myself into being the best daughter I could be. I had discovered some food allergies that had been impacting my health, and after removing the troublesome food from my diet, I had more energy. I got better and better at cooking and cleaning, I dreamed about how I would run my own house someday. I was usually too tired to work on anything for my hope chest, but I was “happier” than I had been in a long time.

When I was almost 19, my family started going to a church for the first time in 10 years, and I looked forward to the service and fellowship every single week. Breaking out of the isolation my family had been in for so long was making a difference in my life. My skills at the violin were improving, and since music teaching was something I was possibly able to do out of the home if my husband ever needed extra money, I was allowed to get certification in Suzuki Violin Training. I had half a dozen students and I taught once a week at a local music group. I was good at it, and I enjoyed the chance to have an outlet.

I tried not to think about how long I could be waiting for the “time of the singing” to arrive, and spent the time as best I could. I got up early every Sunday morning and my sisters and I tried to get everything ready so we would be able to go to church which was almost an hour away. Every Sunday I would hold my breath and wonder if any of the young men would notice me. We were even allowed to participate in the bi-monthly Young Peoples group since it was attended and led by the parents. So I was getting more time around other teenagers than I ever had.

I had hopes for one young man, but he never really showed any interest. There was another young man I’ll call “Dave” who came over to say hi almost every Sunday, and I hoped that perhaps there was something there. I wrote down everything he ever said to me in my journal, hardly believing that anyone actually sought me out to talk with me. But months went by and nothing further ever happened, no other prospects appeared.

The pastor’s son (who was planning on going into ministry himself) offered a class in biblical Greek, and my Dad decided that this was a great chance for all of us to get better at it, so two of my sisters, myself and my Dad all went together each Monday night to study Greek together.

It was an interesting class, and the teacher was fun. “Hunk” was my age, but I never really considered him as a potential mate. He was tall and had tons of poofy blond hair that stuck up all over his head. He seemed to be a decided nerd, always dressed in dress pants and a polo shirt. He was very smart, and when we had been to dinner at their house earlier that summer, he and I had ended up talking for some time about the Greek language and the recent reading I had been doing on the history of Israel. But he had been interested in another girl from the church, and I was sure that they were going to be together soon, if they weren’t already. Plus he was kind of loud and energetic. You could often hear him talking from the opposite side of the room, and that made my serious reserved self a little uncomfortable.

After awhile, my Dad started to make it to class less and less, he was busy with work, so he would send us girls by ourselves. Sometimes after class we would all hang out for a few minutes and talk before heading home, and I liked this teacher. “Hunk” was interesting to talk to, and he was considerate and smart. But I still never thought of him in a romantic way. Class ended early in the year, and “Dave” who had continued chatting with me every Sunday still hadn’t made a decisive move. I was starting to think that there was no one in our church for me to marry.

In early April, (close to a year after we’d begun attending church) we invited a church family over for dinner, and a few days later the Father called my Dad and they chatted about how the oldest son in this family was interested in courting me. “Jay” was in the military, so it would have to be long distance at first, but he was hoping to get stationed just a few states away and then maybe he could drive to see me sometimes. My parents were fine with the match, and told me that I was free to start exchanging letters if that was what I wanted. I felt so overwhelmed. This was the moment I had been waiting for, right? Why didn’t I feel excited? I tried to see it all objectively, this could be my chance to get out. “Jay” was a decent enough young man. He was employed, he was a Christian from a Christian family with similar beliefs to ours, and based on his conservative upbringing he was sure to be a virgin.

Why was I hesitating?

He was short and not really very attractive to me, but wasn’t that somewhat superficial? He was a socially awkward home schooled boy, who was overly sure of himself. He had a lisp (which my Dad assured me he could get speech therapy for) and I had actually seen him pick his nose in public. But weren’t we all a bit socially awkward? Was that really a good enough reason to say no? And what if this was my only chance? I had only met “Jay” once, but I had been around his younger brothers and Dad a bit, and I was frustrated by their attitude towards women, I remembered one conversation where they had joked that you shouldn’t hit a lady, but if she slapped you she was obviously not a lady, so you were free to hit her back. I had no plans to hit anyone, but the mindset still bothered me.

After a few days of stressing about it, I just couldn’t say yes. I told my Dad to relay the message that I did not feel I knew “Jay” well enough to enter into a relationship. I will be forever grateful that my Dad let me make that decision for myself. Despite my Dad’s beliefs about parent-directed courtship, he had always maintained that I was “the one who would have to live with the guy”, so after his stamp of approval it was up to me if I wanted to let the relationship go anywhere, as long as I adhered to my parent’s guidelines. This is not always the case in Patriarchal families where girls can be betrothed without their consent or forced into “courtship” with a guy their father has selected without their consent.

I felt a huge sense of relief saying no to “Jay”, but also depressed. I felt as though I was letting my parent’s down by saying no to a courtship possibility. I felt bad for rejecting the poor guy. I wrote in my journal that there was no one out there for me to marry. I even included a list of the young men in our church that would never work for me, ironically my future husband was included in that list.

Even stranger, it was only two weeks after I rejected that first offer of courtship that my future husband started showing interest.

Discuss this post on the NLQ forum!

[Note: The "My Courtship Story" series is being crossposted from the blog: Permission to Live: Musings of a Young Mom.]

Read all posts by Young Mom!

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by Young Mom @ Permission to Live

I begged my Mom to let me go to high school when I was 14. She was shocked by my request. How could I fail to appreciate all the time they had invested in homeschooling me, she told me how the school system was filled with evil, and how easy it was for a young girl to get taken advantage of. She promised that if I worked hard to finish my schoolwork, I would be able to go to college anyways, so why bother wasting my time in high school? I gave up.

At the age of almost 16, I was allowed to go to a small “homeschool” college that was holding it’s first ever summer camp for teens. The camp had strict rules about dress code and interaction with the opposite sex, and it was supposed to be very academic. I was squeezed into the Journalism Camp at the last moment. I was gone for one week and I loved it! I wrote and wrote, and attended every class. The articles I wrote were approved and put into the miniature “newspaper” that each group put together.

I made a few friends. And since this was still in our pre-church attendance days, I was thrilled to attend the nightly “chapel” time and sing praise songs that I had never heard before. (We were only allowed to listen to instrumental music at home) Those songs fed me so much, I remember I actually went up to the worship leader the last night and asked if I could write down a few of the songs so I would remember the words. They were songs like “In Christ Alone”, and a slower version of “I want to know you”. 

I went home full of dreams, showing my parents my writing and talking the advice my teachers had given about getting into the door for journalism. It was no use. My parents continued to criticize my writing like they always had. I was reminded that I was going to be a stay-at-home mom someday, so there was no point in my getting into journalism when I would only have to quit at some point. I was depressed, I pleaded with my dad for alternatives, I promised that I would not make this into a career, I would just explore writing further and see what I could learn from it, maybe I would even write books from home someday! I brought him newspaper clippings of job offers for part-time columnists for our local paper and free workshops offered in our area. The answer didn’t change. Eventually, I gave up.

I came up with endless schedules and plans to complete all of my schoolwork, but it was never enough. I couldn’t seem to make any progress. I was working hard around the house, and it was difficult to keep up with any schoolwork, much less complete the list that my Dad had put together. The math and science were way over my head, my homeschooling had not included any formal science or geography, and we had never managed to get past ancient history and what I now realize was some majorly revised American history.

I became more and more depressed. I was never going to get out of there. College was not going to happen,  

I just wasn’t smart enough.

************

It was at this point (I was about 16) that I began reading courtship books. I read Josh Harris’s I Kissed Dating Goodbye and “Boy Meets Girl: Say Hello to Courtship”, I read all of the Eric and Leslie Ludy books. I read many books that my Parents had purchased from Vision Forum on the virtues of “Stay-at-home” daughters and how we women were made to serve men and that I would only find true happiness by submitting to the authority in my life.

I hated myself. I was 17. I was convinced that no man would ever want to marry me. I was never going to complete school, I was stupid. Despite my endless dieting to lose weight, I was ugly. Yes, I was a virgin, I had never even held hands with a guy. Yes I had abilities in housework and childcare, but was that going to be enough to snag someone? I didn’t have anything that made me unique or interesting. I was shy. No boy had ever talked to me, or noticed me. We didn’t even go to church at that point, so how was I even going to meet enough eligible men to potentially be interested in me? What was the point in “waiting” for a guy who might never show up? I made a few half-hearted attempts at suicide, but I was too afraid of going to Hell to go through with it. I thought about death and dying a lot.

My Dad had gotten me a job working 13 hours a week at an insurance company to help me get over my painful shyness. I never particularly loved the job, but it was the one outlet that I was allowed to do something by myself. I even got a pay check of my own that I put into the joint account my Dad opened for me. I was not allowed to go very many places, so I rarely used the money, and most of the time it was used for family expenses. But still, I got a check every 2 weeks for the work that I did. After 18 months or so, my Dad decided that I was sufficiently over my shyness and told me to give my 2 weeks notice. My 8th sibling was on the way, and I had to make more time to be able to help out. The 13 hours away each week was detracting from where I was truly needed.

I wrote in my journal over and over about how my biggest fear was being an old maid of 27 and still living at home, caring for the house and the kids, and trying to finish enough school work to make it in college.

At 15 or so, I had read a book that I had picked up in the clearance section at our local library called Listen for the Singing.  The story was about a family finding hope in a new country after moving out of Nazi Germany, nothing that really applied to me. But in the middle of the book there was an excerpt from the poem “In Flanders Fields” by John McCrae.

“In Flanders fields, the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and we were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.”

Then the book talked about how the poem had been written in the middle of a battle, and how strange it was that despite the noise of the guns, the author had somehow noticed the larks singing; and then explained how important it was to keep faith in something in the midst of war. The thought was summarized in this quote.

“Faith is when you hear the bird singing before the egg is hatched. It is up to you to keep the faith… and listen for the singing.”

For some reason, that quote stuck with me. I kept that book tucked in a special place and read that chapter of the book many times.

I was at a home school convention, and almost 18 years old, when a book fairly leapt off the vendor’s shelf at me. The title read Gift-Wrapped by God: Secret Answers to the Question “Why Wait?” I sat in the corner of that gym and read through almost the whole book that day. Yes, the book glorified virginity, but it was something more this time. Somewhere in those pages, I found hope that maybe, just maybe, I was worth loving.

Shortly after that, I read the Bible book of Song of Solomon, and a section in chapter two made my heart leap.

“My beloved spoke and said to me,
“Arise, my darling,
my beautiful one, come with me.
See! The winter is past;
the rains are over and gone.
Flowers appear on the earth;
the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves
is heard in our land.”

After the winter, and the rain, came the time of the singing. It was just like the poem that I loved. I was filled with hope once more. I became convinced that this was going to be my escape. The winter felt long and bleak, but at some point, the rain had to end. “My Beloved” would come, and then the time of the singing would be here.

I just had to have faith… and listen for the singing.

Discuss this post on the NLQ forum!

[Note: The "My Courtship Story" series is being crossposted from the blog: Permission to Live: Musings of a Young Mom.]

Read all posts by Young Mom!

NLQ Recommends ...

'Breaking Their Will: Shedding Light on Religious Child Maltreatment' by Janet Heimlich

‘Quivering Daughters‘ by Hillary McFarland

‘Quiverfull: Inside the Christian Patriarchy Movement‘ by Kathryn Joyce

by AfricaTurtle

The title of Sierra’s Post “When Dreams Become Promises” stirred thoughts in me of another Dream, of other Promises that have brought their own dose of pain and disappointment and reality into my life: Dreams of an enduring, godly marriage and the Promises I made to God and myself in order to lay hold of that dream.

I made my first promise at the age of 14. “I promise to never date a non-christian”. It was the call to action given by a speaker at the summer church camp I attended that year.  I knew it was right, I knew it was what God expected of me. How can “light fellowship with darkness”?  Why would I build a life with someone I couldn’t hope to spend eternity in heaven with? What a heartache that would be!  What a burden to bear, to be “unequally yoked”!  I knew that God wanted what was best for me.  I knew I could trust him.  I knew I would never “compromise” my walk with God by dating a non-Christian.

The second promise came only a few, short years later, at  the age of 16. “True Love Waits” was the name of the campaign. It was pretty popular that year in various area youth groups and on a national level.  I still have the card that I taped to the inside cover of my Bible that year: ““Believing that true love waits, I make a commitment to God, myself, my family, my friends, my future mate, and my future children to a lifetime of purity including sexual abstinence from this day until the day I enter a biblical marriage relationship.” Signed and dated.  For my 16^th birthday I even asked my dad to buy me a “purity ring”, a ring I would someday give to my husband to show him how I had saved myself for him, and him alone.

Then as I went through high school and built friendships with other “like-minded” and “strong” Christians, we started talking about “casual dating”, why it wasn’t good, the emotional repercussions and so on.  We really believed it was important to only consider dating someone who we believed we could actually marry.  By this time I knew I had a call to foreign missions so this drastically reduced any dating “options” for me.  Not too many guys I knew were interested in heading off to live in the jungles of Africa!

I believe it was also around this time that Josh Haris’ book “I Kissed Dating Good-bye” started to appear in Christian circles.  I had pretty much already concluded that casual dating was not for the “mature” Christian.  My father had no interest in “choosing” my spouse for me. (Not that he was unconcerned, he just always said “you’re the one that has to live with him, not me! )  So while I never committed to courtship, in the purest sense, I was, nonetheless, convinced God would lead me to the “right man” at the “right time”.  This was something I was leaving in his hands.  I didn’t “trust” myself with a decision this weighty, I definitely knew I needed God’s guidance, direction, and seal of approval.

Now during the course of time I had had a few boyfriends so I became aware of how easily my feelings/preferences could be swayed once “love” (or hormones) were at work!  I decided, while in Bible School, and during a period when I was involved with no particular individual, to make a “list” for my future spouse.  In my journal I wrote down, objectively, every quality or interest that was “non-negotiable” in someone I would consider marrying.  This idea came to me after reading/hearing so many people emphasize the fact that you cannot change the person you’re married to.  I was also aware that it was “unwise” to think “I hope I marry someone who is musical”, for example.  No, if that was really an essential quality to you, you should make sure that you chose someone who was musical.  I believed that by prayerfully considering this list and working through it with God at a time that I was “free”, it would be of great use to me in determining who the “one” for me would be if/when I happened to meet him.  If a man met all of these (I believe I came up with 27?) qualities/interests AND I liked him AND he liked me…surely that could not be me “deceiving myself”.  Surely that would be a “sign” from God that this was indeed a “good” choice!

Then the rubber met the road, as they say.  I met my now-husband 2yrs after finishing Bible School.  Finally “The One”!  He met ALL the qualities on my list, and then some.  He wanted to serve God full-time, though we were a little fuzzy on the details of exactly “how”, we knew God would reveal that to us together…plus I knew that if he was to be my husband, I could “relax” a little and trust God to lead me through him. I no longer needed to have every single detail mapped out.  Not only did he match my list, but our current vision of family matched up exactly too (ideas I had added since the original writing of my list) Those ideas included inspiration from Quiverful thinking, homeschooling publications, and family church ideology.  This was especially surprising given that his background was SO different than mine, culturally and spiritually.  Surely this was a sign that we were “meant to be”!  We continued to pray and seek God’s direction throughout our dating/engagement time.  And yes, we went into the relationship with the intention of marriage…there was nothing “casual” about our attitude toward the importance of what we were undertaking.

So, where has all of this taken us since?  What fruit have I experienced from all of my obeidience and faith in God?

From day one of our marriage my husband “silenced” me concerning our call to missions. He no longer wanted to talk about it.  At all.

We agreed not to use birth control, but with each new pregnancy, his resentment toward me and my “weakened” state (I was not sick, just huge!) grew.  He refused to make any concrete decision in this domain, but resented the consequences of his indecision.  Meanwhile, I was convinced he would “grow up” soon and see the beauty of what we were building.  I trusted God was growing both of us.  Four pregnancies later his attitude still never changed.

The “beautiful sex life” we were promised, if we waited, never came either. (And we really did wait, I don’t know any other of my Christian friends who took that pledge who actually ended up entering marriage as virgins!)  Once again I was silenced as to my preferences, desires, or opinions…and I shut up, after all, he was the man, I would let him lead.  He was just a little “insecure” I reasoned, and was sure it would get better if I could reassure him “everything is okay, we just need to be patient with each other”.  But how can you make progress in an area that you never talk about, that you’re not “allowed” to talk about?  This definitely hadn’t been a issue while dating…we talked quite openly about things once we knew we would soon be married.

The biggest “dream-breaker” though is not so much about interests or changing convictions…I was prepared for that… the biggest part is his attitude towards me: Critical, cutting, blaming, silencing, intimidating…  After spending a couple of years in tears and confusion I realized I was living in an abusive relationship.  Mostly verbal abuse, sometimes light physical abuse (twisting arms, elbowing, cornering, etc.) and this realization has shattered my world.

HOW could this happen to me? IT’S NOT POSSIBLE!!! I want to scream.

ALL that TIME! All the CARE!  All the PRAYING! All the CAUTION! All the COMMITMENT!  All the FAITH!  And where has it left me??

What was the point of only dating Christians, saving sex till marriage, only considering someone who shared my “calling”, rejecting casual dating, turning down more than one potential suitor and seeking God’s will for my future mate?  Was it not to escape the heartache and brokenness the “world” knows?  Was it not to experience a heavenly marriage, a godly marriage?  Was it not to ensure that my children would never know the trouble and heartache that is now theirs as a result of this turmoil?  Wasn’t this the most important decision of my life? (as I was told so many times)  Did I miss part of the equation somewhere?  Or is it simply, that there are no guarantees?

Discuss this post on the NLQ forum.  Comments are also open below.

Read all posts by AfricaTurtle

NLQ Recommends ...

'Breaking Their Will: Shedding Light on Religious Child Maltreatment' by Janet Heimlich

‘Quivering Daughters‘ by Hillary McFarland

‘Quiverfull: Inside the Christian Patriarchy Movement‘ by Kathryn Joyce