Funny Guy Friday... How it all began...

     Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
     Here is the thing... I knew that I was going to marry Cheryl before I ever asked her out. I just had to confirm that she was not some kind of an axe murderer or something.
     It took an odd set of circumstances to bring us together... but they did... and the rest... is history.
     Twenty-two years ago, I was not Catholic, but I had made the decision to join the Catholic Church through the RCIA program. This was not as easy as you might think. I was aware of three Catholic churches in our town, and my first choice was St. Edwards. I had been going there for a few months and decided to take the spiritual plunge. I approached the priest and advised him of my intentions. I was sure that he would welcome me with open arms. Another sheep in the flock, as it were!
     I must admit, his response was a bit surprising.
     Hello Father. My name is Mark, and I want to become Catholic.
     I am retiring soon and this is not a good time.
     Terrific, well, I am really looking forward to... Huh? Wha...what did you say? 
     Yeah, I am retiring and there is no new RCIA class starting anytime soon.
     Are they shutting the place down? Are they replacing you? Do you have any nuns I can talk to?
     No, not really. It is just a bad time. 
     Any suggestions on how else I can join your little club?
     Try Sacred Heart. 
     Thank you Father... enjoy your retirement.  Alone... with no converts!  
   
     Okay. So Sacred Heart was not such a bad idea; I had good friends who went there.
     At the time, Sacred Heart had two priests: an older crotchety guy and a young priest. My friends actually lifted weights with the young priest, so I had met him a time or two. It was a perfect fit. I decided to meet weekly with him, and I was sure that everything would work out just fine.
     We decided that Wednesday evenings worked best for both of us.
     First Wednesday, I was there and ready to go. Apparently, we were not as clear as I had thought because the priest failed to appear. I couldn't convert myself, so I tried to catch him at my friend's house later that week. Fortunately, he never forgot about his workouts, so he was there... on time... working out... at my friend's home/gym. He was very apologetic and was eager to reschedule.
     No problem. We rescheduled for the following Wednesday. He gave me his phone number and told me to call him if he ever missed again.
     I did not have to wait long to use his number because... surprise, surprise... he missed again the very next Wednesday. Not to worry, because this time, I had his number.
     When I called the number that he gave me, I had the following conversation with the elder then-Pastor at Sacred Heart. You remember, the old crotchety guy.
     Hello.
     Hi, is Father Stack in?
     No, who is this?
     My name is Mark. I am trying to join the Church.
     You are not even a parish member here, are you? You are not a member here, correct?
     No, but I would like to be. At this point, I thought he was joking.
     How did you get this number?
     He gave it to me.
     Don't ever call this number again.
     Not a problem... would you please give him a message?
     No, and don't ever call this number again. 
     Not a chance *click* of... that... happening... Father. Good bye. 
     Wow, who knew that it would be so hard to join the Catholic Church.
     Undaunted... well a little daunted... I went to my third option, St. Pius.
     I was welcomed into the St. Pius RCIA program with open arms... they didn't yell at me, and they showed up when they said they would. The problem was that I was not going to get the one on one that Sacred Heart offered (well okay, as it turned out, it was actually one on none). At St. Pius, I was going to be part of a class, and the class was going to run for several, and I do mean several, months. I joked that it would have taken me less time to actually become a priest.
     So... this is where Cheryl entered the picture.
     My RCIA group was assigned to attend the 9 a.m. Mass. We were seated in the front row every Sunday morning right near the folk group. I had a bird's eye view of this girl sneaking in the side door every Sunday at about 9:05. I recognized her from Junior High and High School. And although I had never spoken with her back in the day, I knew she was nice, and I could see that she was beautiful.
     I also knew, from the very first Sunday I laid my eyes on her, that she was the girl I was going to marry.
     She would come to a lot of the RCIA functions, which, in turn, inspired me to attend a lot of the RCIA functions. Functions that, quite honestly, I may have otherwise skipped. At the completion of our training, our entire RCIA class went on a retreat. On the last day of the retreat, we were surprised with letters from our family and various members of the church that had been supportive of our journey. I probably received more than thirty letters... but I kept only one.
     The funny thing was that we were not even dating at the time. In fact, I was kinda, sorta, just a teensy weensy bit... dating a different girl at the time. So I had this minor detail of ending that relationship so I could date Cheryl. Although that other young lady would never believe me, I never dated Cheryl while I was dating her. I did what many men had done before me... I told that gal that it was best that we go our separate ways: I was not ready to get married.
     Then I went out with Cheryl. And six weeks later, I was engaged. Okay, maybe I was ready to get married.
     Six weeks. That is stupid crazy.
     Our first date was in Annapolis, and it was clear to me over dinner that we would be on the fast track to marriage. By our second date, I had her ring size, and we both knew that this was a relationship that would last a lifetime. How could it fail? God had sent a retiring priest, a forgetful priest, an old curmudgeon of a priest, and a year-long RCIA program to plunk me right down in front of her... driving me right into her arms.
     Not surprisingly, God knew exactly what He was doing.
     There has never been one day in the past twenty-one years, that I ever doubted the decision to get married. Sure, there has been an occasional complaint about her procrastinating or being late, but I would do it all again... in a heartbeat. It was an easy decision twenty-one years ago, and it would be an even easier decision today.
     Having said all that, I must say, I feel compelled to give a warning like the ones given at the end of some show where people do crazy stuff:
PLEASE DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.  THESE TWO ARE TRAINED PROFESSIONALS. GETTING ENGAGED AFTER SIX WEEKS OF DATING CAN BE HAZARDOUS TO YOUR HEALTH, YOUR LIFE AND YOUR MARRIAGE.
     So, you might be wondering how we celebrated our anniversary this year.
     Well, like most of our anniversaries, I was out coaching baseball... and Cheryl was volunteering at church. I barely saw her. No big deal, I am lucky enough to see her every day.
     What do I see everyday? I see the nicest person that God has ever put on this earth. The only thing that matches her outward beauty is her inner beauty. She is a faithful friend, a loving daughter/daughter-in-law, a wonderful parent, a great wife, and a devoted servant to our Lord.
    What I see is God's greatest gift to me.  
    I suppose with all that... I can get past the fact she sometimes procrastinates.  Heck... I put off asking her to marry me for a whole six weeks.