To Wed or Not to Wed

Up to the day we were married, I wondered if I loved this man enough, like I "should." I wrestled with the whole idea of making such a big commitment to love someone deeply all my life. In the end, I acknowledged that it was Father who brought Bill and me together--it wasn't by my making. He, not me, arranged all those serendipities to bring our two lives together. And so by faith I embarked on the greatest adventure that two people can take together....to follow Jesus into the future and trust him through thick and thin.

Our wedding was very small and special. We wrote our own vows and took communion long before it became common to do so. Our music was only a beautiful horn, played by Wycliffe friend Dottie Herzog. We were married in a Plymouth Brethren church south of Oklahoma City. Only 18 people were present. The date was July 12, 1968. Bill was only 20 (and had to have his parents sign off on our marriage license) and I two years older. We were SO young. And now only three more years until our 50th anniversary!

You can see some of those present here. Janet Barnes, the friend who introduced us, is helping me with the veil. My sister, my bridesmaid, came out from California along with my mother and step-father.

 

 

We honeymooned in a small cabin at Lake Carl Blackwell. I wasn't a very good cook at the time and could only make spaghetti. So here’s one of Bill’s favorite stories: One night I tried to make instant mashed potatoes. However, first there was too much water, so I added more flakes. Then it was too dry so I added more water. This went on back and forth for several minutes. Soon we had a huge heap of potatoes to eat. After that we ate real potatoes and I learned how to cook some good recipes. Bill had studied Russian in college, thinking of going there for Bible translation. So finding a Russian tutorial on the TV in the cabin, he decided I should learn too. It's safe to say that not much Russian learning happened during that time.

So now I was Dotty Leal instead of Dotty Munroe. I guess nomads can change names. And this wasn't the first time I'd changed my name either. Much earlier, I had moved again, this time from Glendale to LaCrescenta right before seventh grade. I was wanting to be popular, so I told everyone my name was Dotty. I went by Dotty for the next 25 years. Later, during a season of inner healing, the Lord said my name was Dorothy, that I was a “gift of God,” something hard for me to believe. For me Dotty had been a people pleasing name and Dorothy is a God pleasing name.…and person. And "Leal" is Spanish for "Loyal". How special is that! Bill reports that he's deeply pleased to have received God's loyal gift. I think it was the other way around and since I'm writing this blog, I get the final word!