The first time we held hands was September 14, 1996.  Then, on a cool Colorado night in December (December 9th, to be exact) it happened.  We had been hanging out at my parents house that evening, playing games (my family plays a lot of games) and it was time to drive Rennee home.  We borrowed my mom’s Silver Chevy Lumina, and I held her hand the whole way home.  Not much was said the closer to her house we got.  We both felt the tension.  It sat in the car like an unwelcomed guest.  We pulled into her parents gravel driveway and we just sat there.  Hearts racing.  Hands sweating.  And my stomach was doing hula-hoops around my neck.  My eyes kept looking at the clock on the dash.  Its neon blue light glowing on our faces.  It was 10:09.  I kept saying to myself, “Just do it, idiot!” But my body wouldn’t move.  Finally, after what seemed like years, she made a move toward the door handle.  I reached out, grabbed her hand, and gently gave her a peck on the lips.  She shyly said goodnight and I mumbled some unintelligable words (probably drooling down the front of my shirt like a bull dog on a hot summers day).  I watched her go inside… just to be sure she was safe going in, you know, to make sure no one was hiding behind a corner or something… that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.  Anyway, I backed out of the driveway and I hit the steering wheel and let out a very loud, “WOO-HOO!” From that time on I knew that what God had shown me in that Sunday School room 6 months before was going to come true.  But I still had a long way to go… this, after all, was just the beginning.