I can’t tell you the number of people who predicted I’d go to Honduras and return with a handsome fella.
I’m finally here to settle your bets. Honduras did bring me a man (gasp). Sort of.
You ready to read about the cabellero who's swept me off my feet?
Levi Melvin Jones.
Literally the kid next door. I’m not kidding.
For those of you who don’t know him or just think his name resembles movie-star-status (this has been mentioned), bear with me. For those of you who’ve known me my entire life, the rumors are true and you have permission to paint our little town with this WILD information.
Levi and I grew up together (woah). We lived 3 blocks from each other (almost) our entire lives. We ran in the same circles, had the same teachers, shared the same piano, received our sacraments together. So much of our child and joventud overlapped.
So it’s upside down that it took 18 years in Mount Carroll, 4 years of college and/or music gigs in different states, and 3 years as real people living hundreds of miles apart (with lots of stuff in between), to find out we kinda sorta like each other.
----
He came out of left field. Totally unexpected.
I got wind from an old high school buddy that Levi was planning on making an East Coast tour to visit his sister in Boston with a few other stops along the way.
I was living in said city at the time and had just committed to a year and a half in Honduras (as you know if you’ve been keeping up with me). Being over-gumptiony, I was attempting to squeeze in seeing anyone and everyone I could before I left (it’s the sentimentalist in me).
Long story short, not ten days later I found myself with a beer in my hand at a Red Sox game sitting next to no other than my old friend, Levi Jones. And we were having fun. Like the real, good-clean type of fun.
We covered a large array of topics. Where we'd been since college, reminiscing on memories we shared, while laughing at how we remembered them differently. About life and baseball and love and anxieties and food and Jesus and hopes for the future.
I let him talk me into post-game food and we had an easy-breezy time together. In the most innocent, giggly, holy-cow-what-is-happening-between-us sort of way. Little did we know, it was only the beginning.
--------
I won’t bore you with how things played out (his pursuit has been consistent) or the exact moment I knew our energy was more than just flirty chemistry. But here we are almost a year into distance, and going strong.
He's been my biggest cheerleader, my best advocate. Helping me pursue this call especially when it gets really hard (read: advising me to stick it out in the face of global pandemia). Aside from the people here living out the days with me, he's the one person who knows best my mission-reality.
All the kids L O V E him even without having experienced his easy-going demeanor in person. The girls think he looks famoso (they're not wrong). And the boys get a kick out of teasing me about my Levis. You know, like the jeans.
He comes up in conversation or I'm asked about how he's doing at least 5 times a week. They share passing hello's while we're facetiming, and in a tiny way they feel like they know a little sliver of him.
------------------
Although challenging with distance, it's been special re-getting to know the now adult version of the cheeky kid I knew. We've been able to really lean into this time together (apart), knowing that it's temporary and someday it'll just be a small part of our story.
And goodness I've needed this time to work on my own heart. So I can be a better version of myself for him. So I can come back more grounded, rooted in Love, having already faced head-on the ickiest parts of myself. Honduras has been preparing me for so much of what's ahead, and that includes Mr. Jones.
One of my community members (hi, Meg) always says how this season of life is my novitiate. A year of pruning, resting, taking time to breathe and ironing out the big kinks that were preventing me to live a full life antes. Woof it's exhausting and exhilarating.
And at every sharp turn or sunshiny revelation Levi has been with me, walking patiently and gently toward sainthood (well that's the goal, right?).
This is not how I thought my fairy tale would unfold. This is the last thing I would've ever predicted. If you told me two years ago that I'd be a missionary in a Spanish-speaking country in a long distance relationship with someone I knew in high school I would've laughed in your face and said, "No, no no. That definitely won't happen to me."
It sounds romantic when you throw out the idea of handwritten letters and surprise phone calls. But that's met with broken connection and questionable end dates (read: we've learned how to over-communicate). But through even the most duro days I can see how God is using this time for us.
We're learning what it is to rely solely on His grace, and have been forced to trust in His plan, His timing.
--------------
So. There it is. If you were wondering what was going on, ya'll are now in know.
And hey, Levi. I know this is cheesy but I can hear you saying to me in an easy way, "Bring on the queso."
Miss you always.
I’m finally here to settle your bets. Honduras did bring me a man (gasp). Sort of.
You ready to read about the cabellero who's swept me off my feet?
Levi Melvin Jones.
Literally the kid next door. I’m not kidding.
For those of you who don’t know him or just think his name resembles movie-star-status (this has been mentioned), bear with me. For those of you who’ve known me my entire life, the rumors are true and you have permission to paint our little town with this WILD information.
Levi and I grew up together (woah). We lived 3 blocks from each other (almost) our entire lives. We ran in the same circles, had the same teachers, shared the same piano, received our sacraments together. So much of our child and joventud overlapped.
So it’s upside down that it took 18 years in Mount Carroll, 4 years of college and/or music gigs in different states, and 3 years as real people living hundreds of miles apart (with lots of stuff in between), to find out we kinda sorta like each other.
----
He came out of left field. Totally unexpected.
I got wind from an old high school buddy that Levi was planning on making an East Coast tour to visit his sister in Boston with a few other stops along the way.
I was living in said city at the time and had just committed to a year and a half in Honduras (as you know if you’ve been keeping up with me). Being over-gumptiony, I was attempting to squeeze in seeing anyone and everyone I could before I left (it’s the sentimentalist in me).
Long story short, not ten days later I found myself with a beer in my hand at a Red Sox game sitting next to no other than my old friend, Levi Jones. And we were having fun. Like the real, good-clean type of fun.
We covered a large array of topics. Where we'd been since college, reminiscing on memories we shared, while laughing at how we remembered them differently. About life and baseball and love and anxieties and food and Jesus and hopes for the future.
I let him talk me into post-game food and we had an easy-breezy time together. In the most innocent, giggly, holy-cow-what-is-happening-between-us sort of way. Little did we know, it was only the beginning.
--------
I won’t bore you with how things played out (his pursuit has been consistent) or the exact moment I knew our energy was more than just flirty chemistry. But here we are almost a year into distance, and going strong.
He's been my biggest cheerleader, my best advocate. Helping me pursue this call especially when it gets really hard (read: advising me to stick it out in the face of global pandemia). Aside from the people here living out the days with me, he's the one person who knows best my mission-reality.
All the kids L O V E him even without having experienced his easy-going demeanor in person. The girls think he looks famoso (they're not wrong). And the boys get a kick out of teasing me about my Levis. You know, like the jeans.
He comes up in conversation or I'm asked about how he's doing at least 5 times a week. They share passing hello's while we're facetiming, and in a tiny way they feel like they know a little sliver of him.
------------------
Although challenging with distance, it's been special re-getting to know the now adult version of the cheeky kid I knew. We've been able to really lean into this time together (apart), knowing that it's temporary and someday it'll just be a small part of our story.
And goodness I've needed this time to work on my own heart. So I can be a better version of myself for him. So I can come back more grounded, rooted in Love, having already faced head-on the ickiest parts of myself. Honduras has been preparing me for so much of what's ahead, and that includes Mr. Jones.
One of my community members (hi, Meg) always says how this season of life is my novitiate. A year of pruning, resting, taking time to breathe and ironing out the big kinks that were preventing me to live a full life antes. Woof it's exhausting and exhilarating.
And at every sharp turn or sunshiny revelation Levi has been with me, walking patiently and gently toward sainthood (well that's the goal, right?).
This is not how I thought my fairy tale would unfold. This is the last thing I would've ever predicted. If you told me two years ago that I'd be a missionary in a Spanish-speaking country in a long distance relationship with someone I knew in high school I would've laughed in your face and said, "No, no no. That definitely won't happen to me."
It sounds romantic when you throw out the idea of handwritten letters and surprise phone calls. But that's met with broken connection and questionable end dates (read: we've learned how to over-communicate). But through even the most duro days I can see how God is using this time for us.
We're learning what it is to rely solely on His grace, and have been forced to trust in His plan, His timing.
--------------
So. There it is. If you were wondering what was going on, ya'll are now in know.
And hey, Levi. I know this is cheesy but I can hear you saying to me in an easy way, "Bring on the queso."
Miss you always.
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