Victorious

When I graduated in May of last year, I made a last minute decision to join my sister on her trip to the Dominican Republic. She had an itinerary, was freelancing missionwork.

I was on the island only for personal reasons, trying to gain perspective and make wise decisions in regards to my next steps in life.

In the middle of everything, I ventured out one day a little after dawn and rode to the sports complex by motorcycle. Squished between my sister and her friend, weaving our way quickly through the systematic mayhem that is traffic in San Pedro, and braking frequently for speed bumps and the occasional chicken, I had no idea that this was going to be a remarkable day.

We parked the bike under a tree with a slew of other bikes, walked through the gate, and there he was standing between the track and the grandstand underneath an almost-equatorial sky.

Maryah introduced him as the man who lead Filipenses 4:13, the non-profit group we would be working out with. Meeting him was just like meeting anyone else—a pleasure. We couldn’t converse much because of the language barrier, but soon I couldn’t speak at all in thanks to squats and sprints galore.

Maryah didn’t understand why the workout was 90 minutes instead of the usual 45. We didn’t know he was buying time; then again, I couldn’t think of anything. I was just sweating and in pain. In fact, for 3 weeks afterward my abs cramped whenever I stretched. And that is why I thought of him every day after meeting him. But I wasn’t in love with him—I didn’t even consider him in that context. 

Thus, once my body recovered, I stopped thinking about him. I was busy working at the cafe in Corning for quick cash and spending early mornings and late nights meeting with colleagues, fellow young entrepreneurs.

 Then he contacted me, and on July 11 of this summer he essentially asked me to marry him and I essentially said yes. “Essentially” because we were holding everything loosely.

Even so, it all came together. The United States and Dominican governments granted us permission to marry and after 3 different attempts at the civil court in San Pedro de Macoris (FYI if the power goes out they won’t process you), we got that official marriage certificate on November 8. I’m not sure if it counts as eloping because our families knew about it and the marriage itself, if not the date, was planned. But, while he told practically everyone in República Dominicana that we were getting married (he and I are complete opposites), Stateside I kept our relationship on the down-low.

I was honestly terrified of what people would think of my decision, of our relationship. Who says “yes” to someone you only met once, someone who lives in a different country and culture, someone who doesn’t speak your language, someone who your family and friends have never met?

Me, apparently.

The few people in my community who I told—people who know me, love me, people who I respect—gave me very different reactions. Some supported my engagement whole-heartedly. Some just went with it. Others told me I needed to reevaluate my decision.

I admit I was extremely conflicted. As someone who has difficulty owning her decisions, I care very much what the people think. But it’s not just that. Though decisions are ultimately personal, it’s healthy and biblical to invite others to join you in the process. I reevaluated again and again. 

Eventually, I harnessed all my faith, dug deep, and did what I wanted, what I was compelled by joy to do: I got on a plane at 5:45am in Rochester NY, flew to a Caribbean island, and married the man who loved me before I loved him, the man who pop-started my heart with his love, the man who loves me kinda like Jesus.

It seems opportune to add: there were times when I wasn’t sure it was all that important to marry someone who shares my evangelical Christian faith. But it is important (understatement of the century). Indeed, our common faith is the substance that bridged the chasm of culture, language, and personality, and permitted us to love each other. Our faith will keep us together in all the uncertain days of our lives (the only certain thing is that it’s going to be hard, very hard).

So here I am, the spouse of Victor Gonzalez Melo. I’ve also become a second mother to his 3 sons—a challenge but also a great gift because for so long I’ve wanted the house I live in to have kids in it.

Victor is my desire fulfilled. A couple years ago, after a tragedy, my mom told me to make a list of the qualities/skills I wanted in a husband, and to pray over it. I thought it was a useless, cliche exercise. Every millennial Christian female is told to make a list.

In an anger that was full of broken desire and grief, I typed up a list in my iPhone Notes that was cynically exact. I didn’t believe anyone could live up to it. When I showed it to a couple of guy friends they raised their eyebrows incredulously.

I also texted the list to my mom. It was probably her prayers that brought Victor to me, not mine. Or his prayers, too. He was on his knees for 7 years asking for me.

I’m incalculably thankful to have him, incalculably thankful to be conquering life with the man who is the Victor of my heart.