September 16, 2020
Dating Decisions (Part 1)
WHOA! What is meant by this title?
Nothing. It’s a history story. Ancient history if you ask my children. I am a writer of stories; why would it surprise you that I would pull stories from my teenage decisions? No crazy thoughts. Take a deep breath, empty your presuppositions, and read: you may learn a little about the psychology behind decision making.
Once upon a time, (No, this is not a fairy tale… it is my truth tale.), I was just understanding love. Real love. I was curious about my parents and other couples around me and in my church. My mom and dad had at this point been married for 13 years. I was 11. I considered them ancient. Now I am older than my mother then and close to my dad’s age at the time – wow, I’ve reached the 11-year-old’s idea of ancient! One of my daddy’s mentors had been married to his wife for over thirty years. My daddy’s parents had been married for over 40 years when my grandmother died and granddaddy didn’t remarry. My mother’s parents had been divorced before my mom met my daddy and two of her siblings had been married and divorced. I had been sitting at a concert at a church with mostly teenagers where the girl asked, “raise your hand if your parents have been divorced.” Everyone in my row raised their hands. Most of the auditorium raised their hands. I had watched “The Parent Trap” from the sixties, but in that movie the parents got back together and all was well. I started to understand that divorce was the norm for most of the children I met. My family, with their short 13 years together, was already 7 years beyond the “normal” for divorce; according to research in the “Focus on the Family” newsletter my daddy received. I began to understand that most of the problems facing my peers were related to their broken families. I realized that my mother broke the chain and her baby sister was breaking the chain. I wanted to be like the couple in one of my churches who stood up on the day they honored families and claimed 73 years of marriage.
Research started.
I read marriage and family books (my daddy had two bookshelves full of them in his office to start my journey). I analyzed relationships in movies, in books, and in history and began to learn how to predict problems based on family stability. Stories of great hardships with intact, supportive families morphed into strong, successful, loving children. What was the binding tie?
In every personal interview I did over the next six years (and beyond, but I’m telling the story of teenage me) the common thread for successful marriage was that both loved Jesus, both were willing to love the other without expecting anything in return, and both went into their relationship committed to making it last. Repair it rather than throw it away. I already had a waste-not-want-not mentality. This matched.
Along came 12. The first boy asked me out. I thought he was sweet. He liked to carry my books from Sunday School for me. He was nice to his baby sister. I found myself already studying potential mates. I was scared of that. I told him I couldn’t date until I was 16. That became my pre-programmed response to all of the offers in the next 4 years.
I was already journaling. I told God I was going to be 18 before I dated. I told Him I wanted Him to be in control. I told Him I wanted to focus on being the best big sister and daughter I could. So began my journey of discovering and morphing myself into what I thought God wanted.
At 16, my Daddy started getting worried. My 14-year-old sister was already dating and my 12-year-old brother liked to whistle at girls. I was deep into studying. I took time to develop relationships with all of my siblings as they allowed. It wasn’t that I wasn’t “interested” in boys. I plain and simple told my daddy once, “I’m not old enough to do anything about it, so why would I play with someone’s heart?” (As a teen, I thought he was shocked with my logic, but now as an adult I wonder if he was also scared of what I meant by that.)
And that was the first dating decision I realized I had made.
…continued next time!
~Nancy Tart
