So often, when you meet a new couple this is the first question you ask. Naturally, right? Two different people, two different lives until one magical day their paths cross. Probably at college. Or at a bar/small group/dating website. Or at an orphanage in the Mexican desert.
That’s our story. Karlos had no intention of ever leaving his beloved Mexico and I, a suburban white girl (aka “gringa“) failing Spanish, had no intention of finding a husband on my first mission trip as a 16 year-old. But sometimes the Lord laughs and writes a better story than any of us could imagine.
I like our love story. We were/are a little crazy. A little naive. And a lot in love.
Karlos doesn’t remember me from that first year. “Too many gringas and you were all wearing the same t-shirt.” Touche’.
But I remember him. I remember how good he was with the kids he worked with at the orphanage. How they called him when they needed help. How he seemed like a strong, constant presence in their turbulent lives. I dunno – I think it may have been amor a primera vista.
But, alas, I barely spoke Spanish and he only knew a bit of English. So I headed home completely in love with the niños I had met and determined to learn the language a bit more that year in order to return to the orphanage the next summer.
And I returned. Again and again. And over those first couple of trips, Karlos and I became friends. I ended up studying abroad in Costa Rica (#lifechanger) and became conversational in Spanish.
And over one spring break, our lives changed forever when my sis looked up how to say “You have my permission to marry my sister.” Sometimes you just need an advocate – even when you don’t realize it.
But, that’s the beginning of our story. Now – how did YOU guys meet? I love a good love story.
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