A Love Story

Where do I begin... to tell the story of how great love can be...

Every woman enjoys a romance story. And our very own story began over 13 years ago….

The day after graduation, I drove myself in a U-haul, with everything I owned in it from Knoxville, TN to Washington, D.C., the nation’s capital to start a new chapter in my life, entering into the workforce. That was the first time I’d ever driven there. As I was driving by the Washington Monument and the Pentagon, it took my breath away. I was finally there!

Prior to that day, I had flown there to visit a couple of times. During my last trip visiting a friend, I had a few job interviews with some of the largest hotels in the city (I had always been taught to dream big, besides, I had nothing to lose.). I was surprised when I got a job offer as a food and beverage manager at the Omni Shoreham Hotel, one of the biggest and oldest historic hotels in D.C. That was divine favor.

The day after I arrived in the city, I started my new job. My new boss took me on a tour around the hotel and introduced me to everyone. This place was enormous, glamorous like a palace. We were walking through all the back ways, and service areas of the hotel. I thought I would never learn my way out of the maze. As my boss was taking me through one of the kitchens, I was introduced to Chef Paul. He was stirring something in the stock pot, we shook hands and he said, “Oh, you are the new manager, great! I’ll have to get your input on the new menu we are putting together.” I thought to myself, “Wow, do I feel important or what? This chef wanted my input on the new menu.” I was impressed with my new position already.

With Chef Paul, it was not exactly love at first sight. I had sat through many meetings with him, and the last thought on my mind was finding a man in my new wonderful job. We had our fair share of workplace conflicts, such as our criticism on one another’s staff. There was even a shouting match on the staircase in the kitchen between us about how my staff disliked his staff and his disliked mine.

Hotel work hours are long. You become like family and the closest friends with the people you work with, not by choice. You spend weekends and holidays together, more so than with your own family and friends. I began to lose the handful of friends that I had because I was the only one that worked odd hours. Paul and I began a friendship. He was serious and uptight at work, and I encouraged him to loosen up. I even told him about a date I was going to have with a very gorgeous and good-looking guy. He didn’t seem too thrilled when I was describing how wonderful and incredibly handsome my upcoming new date was, someone I met through a friend.

While working at the hotel, I had to wear a fake diamond ring just to fight off some indecent proposals and unwanted suitors. Strangely some people travel with that perverse thinking, “what happens there stays there” mentality. As for Paul, the “pick-up” line he heard often was, “So, when are you going to cook for me, Chef?” Our friendship grew to be more, and I even found myself asking him when he was going to cook for me too. Although we tried our hardest to keep our workplace romance under the lid, the chemistry between us was undeniable. We were beginning to get nick names, like John Smith and Pocahontas at work. I even passed up possible dates with politicians and diplomats because I had already realized he was the one.

After a series of failed long-term relationships and declining of marriage ultimatums, Paul realized I was the one for him also. At this time, he was no longer working with me. He was asked to move to the Midwest with his company, and his answer was he would go only if his girlfriend would go with him. And my answer was that I would only go as a wife (I‘ve seen way too many tragedies when women moved somewhere for their love interest, thereafter, only to find themselves in a strange environment, alone, after a breakup).

So, Paul and I decided to get married.

I remember that before our wedding day, I told him that I was not sure if I could marry him since he was not a Christian. This is odd because I had known him for over 2 years by now, so the fact that he was a non-believing Jew was not exactly a surprise. But that fact just dawned on me. Nevertheless, we went ahead with our move and wedding plans. We were married by a Justice of Peace in Ohio while she was taking a break from hearing cases of traffic violators. That was hilarious!

Over the next few years, although I was happy, at times I also struggled being married to someone of a different faith. I prayed, pleaded, begged, repented, pushed, pulled and did everything I could to bring my husband to church to find Jesus. Little did I know, God had a different plan. Paul finally got saved after meeting some Jewish believers from New York, who came from a similar background as his.

Now, as our love grows deeper and stronger in the Lord, we grow closer to one another - sort of like a triangle. (God at the central pivotal point, we draw closer to one another as we both move closer to God). God is faithful and I know He answers prayers in His time. In our love story with each other, Paul and I find our love story with our Savior, the one that grafted the wild branch into the olive tree. Our marriage displays the portrait of how God joined a Jew and a Gentile together, as one.

Well, this is our love story. Many more fun and exciting chapters are being written as we seek our loving Father each day, with 2 beautiful Chinese Jews that our Father has blessed us with.