"That Boy," Part 1

As it turns out, I should not have underestimated that high school senior from church. I met him on the second day of WOW week, August 19. He was a good friend of a guy I’d grown up with, Allen, who also went to Master’s and lived in Santa Clarita with his wife Vicky and was a youth director at the same church. It was Allen who asked me to consider helping with their junior high program… which, by chance, Scott also helped out with. I would later learn that my graduation announcement photo on Allen and Vicky’s fridge was the first glimpse Scott ever saw of me—as well as that Allen and Vicky had indeed had thoughts of setting us up before we even met. Foreshadowing!! ;)

One of the first times Scott and I began to converse, we started out with the usual topics I’d been well-rehearsed in from WOW week, including the never-relenting “So what do you think you want to do with your life?” (a question better phrased by Pastor Mike as “So what are you hoping God does with your pathetic life?”—either way). It happened of course that Scott told of his hope to be “either a pastor or a missionary.” As my friend Genie once put it, “Oh! Hey, what a coincidence—I want to marry one of those!”

Another interesting tidbit is that we both at one point or another had a sneaking suspicion that the other might be taken. During one of my first group lunch times at his house after church, his brother told a story mentioning “my brother’s girlfriend.” Being somewhat confused at the time as to which people in the house were his brothers, I sorta assumed that Mark meant Scott’s girlfriend. “Ah,” I thought to myself, “what a shame… that is, he seemed wiser than that. I’m sure she’s a nice girl.” I will confess that I was thrilled later to hear the same brother tease him when bowling, “Ah! Scott. That’s why you’ve never had a girlfriend.” Yup, my ears perked up… I’ll admit. And Scott of course (aside from thinking it possible that one of my friends he met had a “thing” for me) assumed in his classic pessimism that he would no sooner like me than be beaten up by some college boy who considered me his territory.

Another point was won by Scott on the night (I believe, once again bowling with the gang) he asked when my birthday was. “Oh, November 20^th? What do you know?! Mine is right after that, on December 7^th… that makes you only like two and a half weeks older than me!… you’re young!” He had noted my birthday before, of course. He just wanted to make sure that I noted the two. Nice work, Scott, nice work.