The Vow Page 2

  Once we finally didn’t have to worry about an astronomical phone bill, we talked almost nonstop all weekend. That first evening we talked about everything: our childhoods, our families, our jobs, our love of sports, our friends, and our incredible long-distance friendship. But more than anything else we talked about our faith. I already knew she was much more mature in her faith than I was, but I soon discovered that she didn’t feel like she was superior to me. Instead she encouraged me to get to know God better and to follow him completely. She was so confident in who she was and in who God is.

  After many hours we both stopped to catch our breath at the same time. In the silence, Krickitt glanced out the window. I saw astonishment on her face as she pointed at something outside. I turned to look and discovered that the sun had already risen. We had talked all night without realizing it.

  The next day Krickitt attended the Cowboys’ double-header, and both games were one-run losses. That evening, after the games, we talked again. I wasn’t in an especially happy mood after the results of the day’s games, and I got even more depressed while I told Krickitt about my mother, who was going through a serious illness. Yet for some reason I opened up to Krickitt in a way I never had with anyone else. I was amazed that she understood me and sympathized with me in a way I’d never felt before, and I knew then that this was something special. She wanted to know about my fears and challenges, and I wanted to discover the same about her.

  I was surprised when Krickitt suddenly handed me a present. I opened the box, revealing a beautiful new Bible with my name embossed on it in gold lettering. I didn’t know what to say. By the time I could mumble a thanks, Krickitt was already turning to the book of Job.

  “Life isn’t fair; it’s life,” she said softly, confidently. “Everybody has times when they feel like God’s just not there. But he’s always there, always bringing you closer to him, even when your mother’s sick and your baseball team isn’t playing well.”

  Krickitt started to read: “In the land of Uz there lived a man whose name was Job. This man was blameless and upright. . . .” After awhile she stopped reading, and we talked about the terrible situations Job had to deal with. We asked the questions everyone asks about the man who lost everything. How could God allow such awful things to happen to such a good man? And perhaps more important from a human standpoint, why didn’t Job throw in the towel and turn his back on God?

  We took turns reading about Job, and we talked about many things as the hours passed and we delved into the incredible story of one man’s faith in God in the midst of unimaginable tragedy. When we got to the end of the story, we rejoiced with Job as God richly rewarded his faith.

  Sometime in the middle of the night we both fell asleep on the couch. The next day Krickitt flew back to California . . . and I had a hard time not falling asleep while coaching third base.

  I later learned that when Krickitt’s roommate Lisa dropped her off at the airport at the beginning of the weekend, she told Krickitt she felt like she was somehow saying good-bye to her for good. Then when Lisa picked her up at the end of the weekend, it was obvious to Lisa that it was only a matter of time before her roommate would be moving out.

  There’s no doubt we both had friends who whispered about our “spending the weekend” together, especially as Krickitt never slept in her hotel room. But we both knew that nothing happened that weekend that we wouldn’t want to tell our mothers. Our time together had been so exhilarating, exciting, and amazing, yet all weekend I hadn’t even kissed her. Believe it or not, I never even tried to. That wasn’t what the weekend had been about.

  When I checked my mailbox a couple of days after Krickitt left, I found a thank-you card. It was so beautiful it made me miss her more than I already did. I was struck by the way she wrote with such conviction and how my own feelings mirrored her own. This is what she wrote:

  Kimmo,

  I think back over this weekend and it was filled with so much laughter and tears—it was truly wonderful. I would never have imagined that we would be so compatible together. I enjoyed getting to know you this weekend. I feel so special to have seen who the real Kim Carpenter is. You have a heart that is so beautiful to me. Your lovingkindness, gentleness, humility, craziness, and uniqueness completely blew me away. The way you have opened up to me and trusted me with who you are and what you have been through means so much to me.

  I, too, am blown away by some of the things we have talked about. I prayed so much for our weekend together, that we would enjoy one another’s company and have quality conversations. Well, I guess he answered that one, huh?! I have many questions and wonders with us. I am curious to know what is going to happen. I am ready to go with this relationship and see where it is going to go. It’s not in our hands, Kimmer. I think we can go forward. . . . I’m scared, but risk is part of love. I feel that the Lord is either going to continue to open the doors for us, or he will shut them. I’m placing this in his hands and trusting him. Thank you for treating me so kindly and making me feel so special and adored.

  Kim Carpenter, I adore and cherish you.

  All my love,

  Krickitt

  Philippians 4:6–9—Read and dwell on this.

  The week after Krickitt returned home, we talked every day on the phone. We just couldn’t get enough of each other. The next weekend I had some time off, and Krickitt quickly accepted my invitation for another visit. We spent the time talking, hiking, and four-wheeling up in the mountains.

  I had a recruiting trip to San Diego a few weeks later, and I couldn’t resist combining it with a visit to Krickitt in Anaheim. While I was there she introduced me to her parents, her brother and sister-in-law, and some of her friends. They were all so kind and welcoming—her father, Gus, and I hit it off right away. That wasn’t surprising, as our baseball connection created an instant bond.

  I went to church with Krickitt and discovered that her pastor, Charles Swindoll, was an incredible preacher whose passion for God was powerful and compelling. Going to church with Krickitt gave me yet another glimpse into who she really was as a person and as a Christian. The more I understood about her faith, the more I understood about her, and vice versa.

  I returned to California in late May, but not without some apprehension. Krickitt and I had some serious questions to answer. Our feelings for each other were obviously deep and genuine but were we truly in love in a way that was leading toward marriage? I felt so much love for her, but I wanted to love her for all the right reasons and with all the right intentions.

  We went out for dinner and then took a walk on the beach at Del Mar. It was nothing like our usual interactions, when we would talk about anything and everything for hours. This conversation was punctuated by long periods of silence; we knew the significance of this conversation and that every word was special and important.

  There was no doubt we needed to make a decision about the future of our relationship. I couldn’t imagine not having Krickitt in my life from that moment forward, and I hoped she felt the same way I did. But we had jobs and families hundreds of miles apart. It had only been eight weeks since we had met each other in person. Could we already be so sure we were ready to spend the rest of our lives together?

  There were times that night when I thought we would have to end our relationship. It couldn’t stay like it was. We could either go forward or we could end it. Should we go our separate ways now before we got in too deep emotionally, or was it already too late for that? Should one of us move? Should Krickitt quit her job? Should I quit mine? We had to decide, but it took us a while to work through everything as we walked hand-in-hand along the beach. Eventually one of us brought up the idea of marriage, not in an excited or emotional way, but in a strangely calm way, as though it were one logical possible outcome of our relationship. We both agreed that it was where we wanted the relationship to head. But even though we decided that’s
what we wanted, it wasn’t a done deal. Krickitt told me I would have to ask her father for her hand in marriage.

  At the time Mr. and Mrs. Pappas were in Omaha, Nebraska, for the College Baseball World Series. I didn’t want to have to wait until they returned home, so I called them at their hotel. Even though I had met Krickitt’s parents and we got along well, I was, like any man in the same situation, very nervous about this most important conversation.

  When Gus answered the phone, we exchanged some small talk and then talked about baseball for a few minutes. Finally, I took a deep breath and dove in to the real purpose for the call.

  “Krickitt and I have been getting along really well. I want to ask her to marry me, but she said I had to talk to you first.”

  “She did, did she?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Kim, we’d be honored to have you as our son-in-law.”

  I was determined that the proposal would be creative. After I bought a diamond ring, I called Krickitt’s roommates, Megan and Lisa, to help me set the stage for my visit. Their apartment had a security gate, and my plan was for one of the other girls to answer the buzzer so I could surprise Krickitt. They were happy to play along and easily got me inside the apartment complex without Krickitt finding out. I showed up outside their apartment in a suit and tie, despite my usual aversion to dress clothes. Then I started yelling Krickitt’s name.

  She soon came out onto her balcony, a modern-day Juliet in shorts and Nikes. I was holding flowers, a teddy bear with balloons tied to it, and a ring box. The unusual sight struck her speechless, but only for an instant.

  “What are you doing here?” she yelled down to me.

  “Well . . . Will ya?” I shouted back.

  My heart dropped as she disappeared from the balcony, but it was only a second before I could see her flying down the stairs toward me.

  “Will I what?” she asked expectantly.

  I got down on one knee, looked her in the eye, and asked the most important question of my life.

  “Will you be my lifetime buddy? Krisxan, will you marry me?”

  Krickitt took a quick breath and said the words I knew would come but was still dying to hear, “Yes, I will.”

  After embracing we stood back away from each other and after a pause asked, “Now what do we do?”

  My original plan was that we’d get married the following spring. Krickitt admitted she didn’t want to wait that long. I agreed with her thinking, so I tossed out a nearer date: Christmas. That was still too far off for her. So we set September 18, barely three months away, as the day we would become husband and wife.

  I went back to Las Vegas to get the apartment ready for my future wife, and Krickitt jumped headfirst into wedding planning. She began making long-distance arrangements from Anaheim for a ceremony at Scottsdale Bible Church in suburban Phoenix, near her parent’s home.

  So on the evening of September 18, 1993, a perfect late-summer desert night, I stood at the altar with an audience of more than a hundred friends, family, and guests, held Krickitt’s hand in mine, and made a vow:

  “Krisxan, I’ve grown to love you very much. I thank you for loving me in the beautiful ways that you have, and I will always, always cherish this beautiful moment. I promise to love and respect you fully. I promise to provide for and protect you through times of challenge and need. I promise to be faithful, honest, and open; to devote myself to your every need and desire. Most of all, I promise to be the man you so fell in love with. And thank you, Jesus, for the blessing you have provided me in Krisxan. I love you.”

  Krickitt’s self-created response filled my heart with thanksgiving and love:

  “Kimmer, I love you. Finally today is here, the day that I give you my hand in marriage. I promise to be faithful to you, to love you in good times and bad, and to be equally ready to listen to you when you need to share. I promise to be open, and honest, and trustworthy, and I promise to support you each day. I’m honored to be your wife. I’m all yours, Kimmer. And I love you.”

  After we made our vows, the pastor asked my best man, Mike Kloeppel, for the ring. Mike reached under his coat, but instead of pulling out the ring, he pulled out a black, freshly polished baseball glove. Mike handed me the glove; I put it on and signaled to Krickitt’s dad, who gave me a big grin, stood up, and tossed a baseball up to me. I caught it, flipped the glove over my shoulder to Mike, and peeled back a square piece of white tape on the ball. There, inside the ball, was Krickitt’s wedding band. Since a love of sports had brought us together, I figured it was only appropriate to mark our common interest in an unforgettable way.

  The new Mrs. Kim Carpenter and I went to Maui for our honeymoon, and when we returned we settled down in Las Vegas, New Mexico, just as the new school year was getting under way. I started working with my baseball team, and Krickitt dove into her new life with the same enthusiasm, spirit, and faith that had made her such a great saleswoman. I had the luxury of still being in my same town at my same job, but my new wife had to start all over in a brand new environment. That was no problem for Krickitt. Before long she had become the team statistician, informal snack bar overseer for college games, and instant volunteer wherever she saw a need.

  Krickitt also took a position as an exercise technician in Northeastern Regional Hospital’s Center for Health and Fitness, a community fitness center on the campus of New Mexico Highlands University, where she designed exercise programs to help people reach their individual fitness goals. Her friendliness and gymnastics experience made her an instant hit with both the other staff members and the clients.

  We decided that Thanksgiving would be a perfect time to make our first visit as husband and wife to visit Krickitt’s parents in Phoenix. On Tuesday of Thanksgiving week, the night before we left, Krickitt and I had a quiet dinner and then sat snuggling on the couch in front of the TV. I had my arm around her, and she leaned her head on my chest. With no warning she looked up at me and asked, “Are you happy, Kimmer?”

  I couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her before answering, “I can’t imagine how I could be any happier.” And I kissed her again.

  2

  IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE

  I looked up from the car and scanned the area for my wife of less than ten weeks. I was trying to figure out how to pack our car with enough luggage for our first Thanksgiving weekend with Krickitt’s parents and still leave room for the two of us plus one of the members of my coaching staff who was hitching a ride to the airport in Phoenix.

  “Hey, Krick, you gonna take all day?” I yelled toward the open door to our apartment.

  “Here I am,” Krickitt announced as she appeared in the doorway. She practically hopped down the sidewalk toward me, just like the insect her aunt had compared her to all those years ago. I couldn’t help but watch her as she approached me.

  “I love you, Kimmer,” she said as she reached me, suddenly uncharacteristically still. “I love you, Krickitt,” I answered. While Krickitt wedged a few more bags into the trunk, I went back for one last look to see if we’d left anything, then locked and closed the door behind me.

  As I headed to the car, I thought for a few moments about the amazing things God had given me over the past few years, most notably a new job and a new wife. I couldn’t believe that two months had passed since Krickitt and I had been on our honeymoon, enjoying the warm sand and tropical paradise of Hawaii. Now we were headed off for the Thanksgiving holiday, and Christmas was just around the corner. Time was moving too fast. I wanted to enjoy every day and I looked forward to starting many new traditions with my wife as we celebrated our first major holiday together.

  “Hey, Kimmer, you gonna take all day?” Krickitt tried to be serious, but she couldn’t do it for long and soon broke out into a huge smile. We laughed as I slipped into the driver’s seat. I started the car, backed out of the parking lot, and e
ased into the holiday traffic.

  We had a long trip ahead of us, but it was a relatively easy one from our home in New Mexico. We would have interstate highways the entire time as we made our way through Santa Fe, Albuquerque, and Flagstaff, finally ending in Phoenix. Originally we had planned to leave in the morning in order to get to the Pappas house before dark, but our passenger wasn’t able to leave until after lunch. By the time we picked him up and headed southwest on I–25, it was already after two o’clock. It was going to be close to midnight by the time we pulled into my in-laws’ driveway, but Krickitt and I didn’t care. This was our first official holiday as husband and wife, and nothing mattered as long as we were together.

  We sailed through Santa Fe and Albuquerque, but soon after we turned west on I–40 toward the Arizona border, I started feeling as if I was coming down with a cold. I tried to ignore it, because we had a long way to go, but Krickitt noticed something wasn’t right. She asked if I was okay. I told her I wasn’t feeling quite right but that I’d be fine in a few minutes.

  But I wasn’t fine in a few minutes, I was worse. By the time Krickitt said we ought to stop for some medicine, I was in no shape to argue with her, so we made a quick pit stop to pick up what I needed.

  “Maybe I should drive for a while,” Krickitt suggested. “I don’t mind. Then you can lie down in the back seat and get some rest.”