28. Eventually two is better than one

Have you ever had one of those ordinary moments that later turn out to change everything? A moment that seems so unremarkable at the time, yet when you look back you realize your whole life took a new direction right there? Meeting Kathy was exactly that kind of moment for me.

I met her through my friendship with her brother, Tony. She was young, warm, grounded in her faith and - perhaps most importantly - she laughed at some of my jokes. What more could a young man ask for?  I was drawn to her not only because of who she was, but because she made everything around me feel brighter, fuller and somehow more meaningful.

Before long, we were spending time together and talking easily about all sorts of things. And then came the surprise as those conversations continued, it became clear that we had something rather unusual in common. We had both grown up as missionary kids - what people now call “third culture kids”. Could that have been a co-incidence? Because of that shared background, we saw life in similar ways, shared the same values, and even held some of the same deeper beliefs. We understood each other in ways that didn’t need explaining. 

Soon I knew I had to find out where we stood - and what the future might hold. Kathy and I saw the world through remarkably similar lenses. Our values, our outlook on life, and even some of our deepest convictions had been shaped in similar ways. It meant we could talk about things that mattered, and somehow understand each other without needing to explain too much.

Looking back now, I can see how rare that was. At the time, I simply knew it felt right.

There came a point where I knew I needed to stop wondering and start asking, so one evening, sitting together on one of the side terraces of the University of Cape Town campus, where Kathy was a student, I asked her the questions that changed everything: “Will you marry me?” Her answer was immediate, “Yes!” It caught me so off guard that I was flustered and instead of basking in the moment, I asked, rather foolishly, “Are you sure, have you really thought it through?” Without hesitation came her second, even further, “Yes.” 

That became one of those moments we laughed about many times over the years - my astonishment at her certainty.

The next step, of course, was asking her father for permission. Thankfully, he agreed. And with a kindness and sense of humour I’ve never forgotten, he added that he would pray for me - which, if I’m honest, was probably very necessary.

So we announced our engagement first to our church youth group. Tony decided to give the toast at our after-service coffee time at the Jennings’ house. Most of our friends were genuinely surprised, because we had kept our relationship pretty well-hidden. I suppose we thought we were being subtle, clearly we were - until then. There was plenty of laughter, surprise and shared joy all round. 

My national service ended early in 1974 soon after our engagement in February. I went back to Vanderbijlpark until the end of the year. During that time, Kathy came to visit me and stayed with Prof and Bea Snyman. She also met some of my colleagues in the Metal Box personnel department, which must have given her at least a small glimpse of the less glamorous side of my life. 

With my upcoming marriage, the company agreed to transfer me to the Epping factory in Cape Town from January 1975, so that Kathy could finish her university studies in Cape Town. I was able to get an appointment as Personnel Officer responsible for training, in Epping 4. I continued with Metal Box until 1978. At one point I became heavily involved in a three year study of production processes as well as training middle management through the American Management Association’s programme. Harold Fay, Dr. Ewald Wessels and the Canmaker Training Centre in Port Elizabeth became a big part of my life at that time.

On 14th December 1974, we were married at the Wynberg Baptist Church. I was 26 and she was 19. My parents came from Lebanon for the wedding and most of my family were able to be there. My cousin Bruce was my best man (giving the speech in the picture) and Kathy's sister Beth was her bridesmaid to the right next to her parents.

By today’s standards, that sounds very young - and it was. We didn’t have everything worked out. In fact, if I’m honest, not everything we did was sensible. But youth has its own kind of courage. What we did have was enough faith, commitment, love and a willingness to grow together.

And that, I’ve learned, matters a lot more than having all the answers.

Looking back over the years, I can say without hesitation that that simple ‘Yes’ on that terrace shaped every good thing that came after it.

A life together. A family. Joy, sorrows, lessons, laughter - and God’s faithfulness woven through it all.

Kathy was still studying at UCT and was determined to finish her Social Work degree. Her father has made it clear, when he agreed to our marriage, that I would be responsible for her fees. Since I was earning quite a bit more than he was at the time, it was only right that I did so willingly.

Our first home was a flat on the sixth floor of Protea Place on Culm Rd, Plumstead. I made the bed, and we eventually bought some comfortable chairs. There is something really special about those first humble beginnings - when a place is held together not by furniture or possession, but by hope and perhaps a bit of blissful ignorance. 

One of my favourite memories from those days was watching Kath spot the train coming and then race down six flights of stairs like her life depended on it, somehow managing to catch it before it pulled away for the next station. Even then, I think I knew I had married someone with both determination and perfect timing. 

And though we couldn’t have known it then, those small beginnings were the start of many more adventures to come.