An Unlikely Love Story

This story is dedicated to our sons, Pat and Beau, their wives, and our eight grandchildren. My hope is that our story will be an encouragement to you and all who read it. May you enjoy our memories and be reminded of God’s abundant grace in your own lives.

Back to table of contents

Introduction

Art and I have always thought that the story of our courtship and marriage was very romantic. Over the years many have encouraged us to write it down. Campus Crusade for Christ (now Cru) says in the Four Spiritual Laws that “God loves you and offers a wonderful plan for your life!” And we Cru girls would add “And a man for your plan.” Here’s how God answered my prayers and how I found that man. It’s what we call “An Unlikely Love Story!”

Back to table of contents

Chapter One

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD,
Plans to prosper you and not to harm you,
Plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)

The longest flight of my life ended as the plane rolled to a stop at the airport’s terminal. As I joined my fellow passengers in the immigration line my heart sank. After spending nineteen hours on an airplane I was tired, afraid, and struggling with the idea that this place would be my home for the next year and a half. Even though the tropical foliage, exotic flowers, and colorfully dressed people were a pleasant change from the inside of the airplane, I found myself holding my breath to prevent a growing sense of nausea, as a horrid smell assaulted my nose.

As I left the immigration area a male army nurse introduced himself as my sponsor, and escorted me to a waiting taxi. When I asked if all of Bangkok smelled this bad, he explained that the smell was a mixture of garlic, incense, and urine from the open sewer system. He said that it was just part of the atmosphere of the city and that it never went away. Then he added that I would get used to it. My stomach lurched at the thought and I groaned inwardly, “What have I done?”

Two weeks earlier I had left Ft. Gordon, Georgia where I had spent the last ten months working at the base hospital. I could have spent the remaining two years of my three year army commitment at Ft. Gordon. Instead, I had requested a reassignment. I wanted to be closer to either a close friend or a family member where I could start over after the end of my engagement to be married. I had given my carefully chosen “wish list” for a new assignment to my superior officer. I just knew that I would get one of my choices. Atlanta was my first choice, Hawaii was my second and Colorado Springs was my final choice. I prayed over the list asking God to send me where He wanted me to complete my army commitment. I was confident that the Lord would honor my prayer and that I would soon be happily relocated.

It hadn’t really occurred to me that the army might ignore my three requests and send me to parts unknown, but that is exactly what happened. When my orders arrived I discovered that I was being reassigned to a place that wasn’t on my list! I could hardly locate it on the globe, Bangkok, Thailand! Whoa! What had happened to my plan? To my prayers? I dreaded the idea of being alone in a foreign country, but couldn’t imagine asking to remain at Ft. Gordon, Georgia either. After all, I had prayed and asked God to direct my future. After recovering from the initial shock, I decided that I should trust the Lord, even though it meant an eighteen month separation from everyone I knew and loved. I would be on the other side of the world from home!

I could not, for the life of me, understand, how living in a country in Southeast Asia could possibly become my place of healing and comfort. That is what I was looking for. Instead, I felt like I was being sentenced to prison, yet, I also felt that the Lord was testing my willingness to trust Him.

I was being sent to the Fifth Field Army Hospital in Bangkok. Looking Thailand up in the encyclopedia, I found that it was almost ten thousand miles away from my hometown of Gainesville, Florida; right on the opposite side of the globe from home. “Forget new beginnings and trust!” my mind cried, “I was wrong. I change my mind! Augusta, Georgia is just fine.” But in my heart I knew it wouldn't be “just fine.”

I had agreed to come to this new assignment by faith and it was time to embrace it. A certain amount of my equilibrium was restored as the airport taxi stopped in front of a very nice modern hotel. My sponsor left me in the lobby saying that he would pick me up at six that evening for dinner with some other nurses. Once in my hotel room, I began trying to make peace with my new surroundings. I turned on the radio in search of something familiar and found nothing but oriental music; “Nwahhhhh ahhhheiii yawiiiiiwaaaaaaa.” The tonal assault to my ears was more than I was prepared to deal with, so I turned off the set, went over to the window and looked out. A thick gray haze seemed to move across the city and settle in on my heart.

“What am I going to do?” I wondered aloud. “How will I survive in this strange place? Will I find anyone to relate to?”

“Tomorrow is Sunday.” I thought. “If God was with me in America, He must be here with me now. Tomorrow,” I decided, “I will do whatever it takes to find a church. I need Christian fellowship to get through this.”

As I turned away from the window, I remembered Scarlet O’Hara’s method of coping with a bad situation. I laid down on my bed and said to myself, “I will not think about this now. I will think about it tomorrow.” And then, I managed to fall asleep.

Later that evening, my sponsor took me to the apartment of two more army nurses where we had dinner. The boyfriends of these nurses joined us for the meal. An evening that started off pleasant enough turned out to be disappointing as I learned that both of these nurses had found companionship with married men. My uneasiness grew as one of the nurses bragged about her connections with the black market. “I can get you anything you want; jade, pearls, whatever. Just remember I’m returning to the States in a little while; if you want something, you should tell me soon.” By the end of the evening I was praying, “Lord, get me out of here!”

Thankfully, I had no problem finding an English speaking church the next morning. Calvary Baptist Church was located on Soi 2 (Street 2) just off of Sukhumvit Road, one of the main streets in the city. Because the church was located just beyond a “short timers” motel used by many American young people traveling through Thailand, all I had to do was give the address to a hotel taxi driver. I made it to church in time for the worship service that morning and felt I had found an oasis for the months that laid ahead. The church’s congregation was quite diverse; made up of tourists, MK’s (missionary kids) from several different mission groups, army brats and their families, and representatives of the business community. Calvary Baptist became my church home that Sunday and was an important part of my life during the next two years. John Calhoun, a Southern Baptist missionary, was the pastor. He welcomed me warmly into the fellowship. I was thankful that God had once again proven His love and provision for me.

On Monday morning, my third day “in country,” I reported for duty at the Fifth Field Army Hospital. After signing in, I went to the personnel office only to learn that my orders had been extended from the original eighteen month assignment to a two year overseas tour. At my objection, the officer in charge matter‑of‑factly explained that because my service obligation ended in two years, the army saw no reason to send me back to a stateside assignment for only six months. “No way!” my heart cried. I believed the army was being unfair and unreasonable. I could have coped with eighteen months, but shouldn’t they have told me about the extra six months I would spend in Bangkok?

Suddenly, I remembered my decision to submit to God’s will. Was I going to change my mind about trusting Him? At the moment, it seemed that the additional six months meant that I would never see my family again. Didn’t God want me to be happy? I was reluctant to accept the facts of my two year obligation and decided to fight it.

Though sympathetic to my petitions for a change, the personnel specialist told me there was nothing they could do, I would be spending two years in Bangkok. Then and there I decided that I would fill every waking hour that I was in Thailand with activity. I was determined to make the time pass as quickly as possible. Ignoring God’s gentle reminder that He would sustain me, I worked my shift at the hospital, became involved in the youth activities at Calvary Baptist, and taught an English class at the Baptist Student Center. When I wasn’t working or teaching I was sightseeing, shopping, or entertaining friends. These attempts to combat loneliness and loss was successful to a point. I traveled the country of Thailand, learned about the culture, and began to enjoy new friendships at work and church. A friend and I even initiated plans to visit Germany the next fall. Yet, all too often, my efforts to combat my sadness were unsuccessful. Thailand was not where I wanted to be. And, if I had to be here I needed someone in my life to love me. I felt empty. Days, weeks and months passed so slowly. Time dragged. Nothing seemed to help. Not even letters from home.

What was I going to do? I was doing all I could do to cope with a situation that was out of my control. I failed to realize that in all my attempts to be in control of my life, I had failed to listen to God. I was reading my Bible, going to church; I was even leading a Bible study for teens on Wednesday nights. But, even in all this “spiritual” activity, I was successfully ignoring God’s voice. Oh, I knew He loved me, was there with me; I even accepted the fact that He had brought me here. What I wasn’t allowing Him to do was‑you guessed it! Be in control of the very plan I had acknowledged as His plan for my life. Well, I was about to be acquainted with God’s loving but costly correction. Ouch!

Fifth Field Hospital was a small hospital with four floors and seventy‑five beds. The first floor was occupied by the hospital administration, outpatient clinics, and the ER. The second floor contained labor and delivery, newborn nursery, and more offices. The third floor held the surgical/OB‑Gyn ward and operating rooms and the fourth floor was the medical floor. The medical floor was divided into a pediatric ward, a general medical ward, a hepatitis ward and several isolation rooms. After hospital orientation, I was given the opportunity of working on the newly opened drug ward that was attached to the medical ward. Because I enjoyed working with psychiatric patients, I accepted the job. The drug ward census was often low so I was frequently pulled to work in another part of the medical ward. Much of the time, I was asked to pass medications to all the medical patients. I would essentially cover each ward on the floor in the course of a shift.

One morning during my first three months at Fifth Field, I was passing out medications on the hepatitis unit. After giving an injection to one of the patients, I absentmindedly recapped the needle and dropped the used syringe into my uniform pocket. Later, as I reached into my pocket to retrieve the syringe and discard it; the used needle dug into my finger. “Ouch! So much for recapped needles.” I thought as I cared for the wound. In those initial moments of pain, I was all too conscious of the possibility of contracting hepatitis. I even got a shot of gamma globulin but, I soon forgot all about the incident and my fears of becoming sick.

Several weeks later, I awoke feeling ill. I called in sick to my ward and then went to see the medical officer on duty. After a brief examination, the doctor reassured me saying “I believe that you have dengue fever. Several days of bed rest and you will be fine.” When I questioned him about the possibility of hepatitis he said, “No, I doubt you have hepatitis. Go home to bed and I’ll have your nursing friends check on you from time to time. Dengue fever is usually a mild illness that passes quickly.” I wasn’t sure I agreed with his diagnosis, but I felt so sick, I didn’t argue. Instead, I went home and went to bed.

My apartment building was fairly close to the hospital and had become home for a number of the army nurses. On their way to the hospital, or on their return, one of these nurses would stop by my apartment to bring my mail and check on me. I always insisted that they check my eyes for yellow color convinced that I had hepatitis. Each day they would say the same thing; “BJ, There is NO yellow in your eyes.” As the days passed, they agreed more and more with the doctor’s diagnosis of dengue fever. Yet, I was getting weaker with each passing day. All I did was sleep. I had little appetite.

One day, Maxine Stewart, a missionary friend, called to offer me some of her yummy homemade soup. Soup sounded good and I told her to bring it over. When Maxine arrived with the steaming food I thanked her, but my appetite was gone; I pointed to the refrigerator promising to try to eat later. Maxine’s love and attention reminded me of my family. I wanted to be home, to be sick in my own bed with my mom caring for me. Even in my sickness I was reminded of the miles separating me from those I loved. I was so miserable that I cried. If this was a simple illness, why wasn’t I feeling any better?

About a week later, I awoke and went into the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, I knew I had been vindicated! Mustard colored eyes stared back at me; my skin had turned the color of a summer squash!! I didn’t know whether to yell “Ha! I told you so, I told you so,” or to cry. So I just called the medical officer and reported my new shade of skin. His only words of response were, “Come in!”

I actually felt better than I had in days as I packed an overnight bag and took a taxi to the hospital. At the hospital I was admitted to the very ward that had caused this illness in the first place. It was strange to be a patient on my own floor but, as long as my liver function tests were abnormal I was restricted to the isolation ward. My friends tried to cheer me up by bringing a few of the things from my apartment. It wasn’t long before the head nurse was complaining that my “space” was getting too cluttered and I was instructed to keep my stuff at my bedside. The weird thing was that I was the only patient on a four bed ward. Again, my activities were being limited. It felt like forced isolation had become the theme of my life.

My mother and sister, Ruthie, sent cassette recordings to lift my spirits; they would give the news from home and then they would laugh together on the tape to encourage me. I must admit, it did help, as I listened to the tapes again and again, I found myself laughing with them. Still, the miles that separated us were not easily bridged. Despite their loving attempts to cheer me, my blues would quickly return. What was happening to me? I had prayed for God’s plan for my future. Didn’t that mean I was supposed to have some happiness and contentment in my life? It seemed that all the circumstances of my life since that prayer had led me to more misery, separation, and painful solitude.

I was quickly recovering from the worst part of my viral infection and began to feel stronger with each passing day. My co‑workers stopped by to visit and deliver my mail when they could. I occupied my time with my radio, books, and magazines. As I began to feel better, I became bored. My thoughts frequently drifted back to the States and sadness would overcome my heart once again.

I asked myself, “Why had I accepted this assignment so far from home? I’d always been happiest living close to home!” Having spent my first two years of college in my home town; I was accepted into a nursing school in my favorite aunt’s hometown of Tallahassee, Florida – just two hours from Gainesville. Now, all that was lacking was a way to pay for the last two years of college. I could hardly believe it when one of the pastors at my church told me that the army offered a scholarship program for nurses. This program would pay for my schooling if I was willing to make a three-year commitment to serve as an active-duty army nurse after graduation. The Lord seemed to have a plan because I was accepted into the Army Nurse Scholarship program and commissioned as a 2nd lieutenant.

Frequently, I drove the three-and-a-half-hour trip home to Gainesville on weekends. After graduation, I was promoted to first lieutenant and went to basic training in Fort Sam Houston. I began my army obligation by requesting an assignment to a base closest to home. I was a homebody and I wanted to go home. Yes, I had lived away from home for the past three years, but I always had the option of driving home on my days off. Now, it was impossible. Here it was a challenge to just call home. Didn’t God want to meet my needs?

In my “private” hospital ward my hopes turned to broken dreams. “I was supposed to be planning a wedding instead I had no plans at all, no one at all to share my life with.” Before I left for Thailand, I had allowed myself to believe that my former fiancé would keep in touch. In moments of self‑pity, I had fed my hope and I allowed it to grow. At other times I would think, “Who am I kidding, our relationship is over, finished. He hasn’t written and he never will.” I would lament, “But, I need someone in my life. Someone to share life with, someone to take care of me.” Was there no way to satisfy the deep longing in my heart? “God don’t you hear my prayers? Why aren’t you doing something?” Things just had to get better.

In a much unexpected way, they did!

Back to table of contents

Chapter Two

“If you make the Most High your dwelling, Even the LORD, who is my refuge ...
he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways;” Psalm 91:9 & 11 (NIV)

Angelic! That’s what it was. It was an angelic visitation! They said they were army sergeants and they were dressed in khaki fatigues, but I knew better! They were special ministering spirits sent to me by God.

Two non‑commissioned officers on R & R from Vietnam had gone to Calvary Baptist Church earlier that day and asked if there was anyone they could visit in the hospital. John Calhoun gave them my name. Even though I didn’t know them, I warmly welcomed these two wonderful men into my private ward of isolation. Today, I can’t recall their names, but I do know that our Lord sent them to minister to me on that special day in 1972.

Filled with the power of the Holy Spirit, they shared about life in Vietnam and the spiritual needs of the GI’s there. I heard their accounts of Bible studies that met under makeshift laundry lines and of God meeting men’s needs even in the heart of the war zone. Their stay was not long, but the time they spent with me was vital and life‑changing. Before they left, they prayed for me. They asked for my physical healing and for spiritual strength to live as a believer among the army personnel I worked with. I could tell that they prayed believing that God would hear and answer their request on my behalf. Then as quickly as they had come, they waved good‑bye at the door and were gone.

This anointed visit did bring change to my life. You see, I had given my heart to Jesus as a child, I had sought to grow in Him as a teen, I had become a nurse at His leading through prayer, and I had endeavored to give Him control of my life each day. I had even obediently come to Thailand after prayerfully making my request for reassignment known to God. Now, I was being challenged to reevaluate my relationship with my Lord. I had felt the presence of the Lord during the sergeants’ visit. In the silence on the ward, after their departure, I realized that my life had been missing that special closeness to the Lord. I was convicted that in my desire to speed up the passage of time, I had ignored the Lordship of Christ in my life.

I had had no doubt that it was God’s will for me to be transferred to Thailand, but in my pain of isolation I had determined to control the outcome of my life there. God had allowed me to make that choice, but He had also gently reminded me of His Love through my bout with hepatitis and the visit from “my angles” . I had forgotten one of my favorite Bible promises; Romans 8:28. It says that; “All things work together for good to those who are called according to His purpose.” As I began to meditate on the verse, I realized that my reassignment to Bangkok was not God’s way of making me miserable, or to punish me for some unknown sin, but rather; it was for my good and for His glory.

I had been so wrapped up in my feelings and my own desires that I had not asked the Lord for wisdom to know how I might serve Him while in Bangkok. In my desire to hurry through this difficult time overseas, I had manipulated my activities for my own purposes. Now, I could see that the Lord had used the visit from those two wonderful men to gently remind me that Jesus was Lord of my life and that He had a purpose for my being in this foreign land. The Lord gently reminded me that it was through the surrender of my will to His that I could once again be obedient to His Lordship and find contentment.

My Bible remained open on my bed as I bowed in prayer. During this time of confession, the Holy Spirit reminded me of several areas of personal rebellion against God. Thankfully, I was familiar with the instructions on confession found in 1 John 1:9 “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” (ESV) I asked forgiveness for refusing to follow God in obedience since learning of my six month extension, for acting impatiently and selfishly. As I continued in a spirit of submission, the Lord showed me that I had not been completely surrendered to Him in college. I had been rebellious in the way I dictated to Him which parts of my life I would allow Him to control. He reminded me that He wants control of all areas of a believer’s life. I confessed that I had been guilty of seeking my own desires while refusing to allow the Spirit to guide me. I felt relieved but was aware that God had more to say to me.

The Holy Spirit led me to surrender each and every area of my life to God. Any dating and marriage plans that I had made were also released to the Lord. You see, I had always believed that I knew best what type of man would make me happy in marriage. Surely I knew what kind of guy I found physically attractive, and of course, anyone I married would be a Christian. Therefore, what was the big deal? I assumed that I should control the decisions concerning who I dated and who I would eventually marry. Now, if I was truthful, I had to admit that my choices had not always been good ones when it came to dating. As I repented of my willfulness and asked for God’s help, I sensed God presence and His peace filled my heart.

My prayer that day went something like this “Lord, I confess that I have ignored your guidance in the last several months. Instead, I have been doing my own thing because I was angry and afraid. I was wrong. Thank You for forgiving me and for cleansings me from all wrong doing. I give you control of my life once again. Because you created me and loved me enough to have Jesus die on the cross in my place, I can trust you to choose the right husband for me. I pray that you will take control of my dating relationships and that you will one day lead me to the man you have chosen for me. I pray that my life will be a living testimony to the people I work with. Thank you that according to 1 John 5:14 & 15; I have the assurance that as I pray in your name that you hear me. And that if I know you hear me, I can also know that you will answer these requests. Thank you in Jesus' name, Amen.”

As I surrendered my will to the Lord’s plan for my life I knew that I would trust God with the remainder of my time in Thailand. A new peace of mind and a deep determination to trust the Lord replaced my fear and anger. I knew that the past was gone and the present and future were safely in God’s hands. I suddenly realized that Bangkok, not to mention the hepatitis ward, had become my place of special healing. I had come here to regain physical health and had received much more; I had received the gift of spiritual renewal and emotional healing as well. There was no doubt that the Lord had brought me halfway around the world to speak to me about His purpose for my life. What else He had in mind I didn’t know but, I could stop all the business now and begin enjoying life. Okay Lord, bring it on!

The day I moved out of the hospital and back home was a big event. I had been in the recuperating so long that it took an entire taxi to carry my stuff back home. You might say I had become very comfortable during my hospital stay. Even then, I was sent home to rest for two more weeks. It was great to be back in my own apartment, but I was more than ready to return to work when those two weeks were over.

I was asked to join some friends for Peking duck dinner shortly after returning to work. A doctor (I will call Zack) who was assigned to Sameson Base came to Bangkok for the occasion. As we talked during dinner, I found myself enjoying the conversation and quickly prayed for God’s guidance. As the two of us talked he told me that he was from Texas and was also a Baptist. “Wow” I thought. “A good‑looking single doctor who is also Baptist. Not a bad combo. Maybe there’s a possibility here for a friendship.” At the end of the evening, Zach and I made plans to go out again.

On our first date, Zack and I went out to dinner and had a great time. We talked easily and of course, had our medical background and army experiences in common. After we ate we went back to my apartment for dessert. This was my first date since coming to Bangkok and the first since I had recentered my life on Christ. I wanted to do this right and I needed guidance each step of the way. As you can imagine, I prayed a lot that night.

Zack and I were sitting on my sofa talking and enjoying one another’s company when he expressed his interest in getting to know me better. That was encouraging; considering my desire for someone to share my life with. We continued to talk about being in the army and what it was like for him at Samesan where all the new recruits were processed. I found myself more and more intrigued with him. I relaxed as we began to play with one another’s hands. Zack kissed me on the cheek and began explaining to me how he had decided to make it through his tour of duty in Thailand.

“BJ, it is true, I am a believer. When I am home in Texas I attend church but, I have decided to take a vacation from God while I am overseas. No one at home will ever know about what I do while I am here in Thailand.” Alarms began going off in my head as he continued, “You see, I really like you and I think we could enjoy one another over here and not have to worry about it.”

“Just exactly what are you saying?” I asked.

“Well, BJ, I think we should compromise while we are away from home and...”

“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “In the first place, I do not believe a person can fool God. And, if you are talking about you and I having a physical relationship just for the time we are based in Thailand, you are mistaken. It isn't gonna happen!”

As I stood, I took Zach’s arm to encourage him to stand up. Poor guy, he must have thought I was really desperate. Well, I did want someone to date and eventually marry, but did he really believe that I would begin a relationship with a contract of those sorts? That I would be persuaded by his charming personality to ignore my relationship with God? Well, my answer was clearly “NO WAY!” As I escorted Dr. Zack to the door of my apartment, I explained, “I cannot and will not compromise my relationship with God for a short term relationship with you or anyone else. Even if no one in the States knew what we did over here, you and I would and God would know. Doesn't that bother you? Thanks again for the dinner. Good‑bye.”

At the door, Zack turned and looked back at me. “Too bad” he said. “It could have been fun.”

Boy, did I feel good. I began to understand that I had just been tested and that I had passed. No matter what happened next, I knew that my relationship with God was still strong; I had heard the warning of the Holy Spirit and obeyed. I felt badly that Zach had so little respect for me and yet, on the other hand, I was very glad that I would not be wasting time in another pointless relationship. I was learning that although not even all church going men are created equal; I could trust God with each romantic encounter and He would give me wisdom and strength to do the right thing. Peace filled my heart as I became even more determined to trust Him.

Back to table of contents

Chapter Three

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.” Proverbs 3:5‑6 (NIV)

I walked along my usual route to Fifth Field hospital enjoying the morning sunlight filtering through the lacy branches of the flame trees. The city's unpleasantness had been replaced by a sweet familiarity of blue sky, tropical trees and flowering plants. I had a new appreciation of Bangkok's beauty; I actually found it comforting. This lush emerald canopy was splashed with the brightly colored clothing worn by the Thai women. Children and adults filled the streets. As we all walked along together it was nice to be recognized by a few as a “local.”

As if by chance, a group of street children ran up to me, “One baht! One baht!” A baht was worth five cents and seemed very important to these little guys. When they saw someone they thought would give them a coin they would repeat their chant of “one baht” with their hand extended to receive the gift. If a baht was given to one child, soon a mob of children would surround you demanding the same gift. After each hand had received a coin, the group would run on to the next person.

“One baht” had become a game we played each time I left my house. Over the weeks, I had made a deal with the group. Each day I would give a different child a gift. Of course, that did not eliminate the possibility that I could be worn down by their insistence. So, as I handed out today’s token, I was surrounded by a group with hands lifted hopefully upward. It was difficult not to break my routine. So many needed this little “mite” for their survival.

I smiled into their bright faces as we parted ways and I promised that we would see one another again. Walking on toward the hospital I smiled at the sense of peace I had. The day had started out like any other work day and would probably be routine. Nothing about it alerted me to its potential for changing my life.

Reaching the hospital, I went to the surgical ward where I had been working since my recovery from hepatitis. I had not enjoyed the drug unit as much as I had expected to. My experience in surgical nursing made the transfer possible and I was in orientation to the ward. That morning I was preparing medications for patients when someone called me.

“Hey, BJ! There's a new corpsman from Gainesville, Florida. Come over and meet him.”

My heart jumped. “That’s wonderful,” I thought. “Someone from home right here in the hospital.” As I turned around I saw an incredibly handsome guy with a deep tan and developed biceps. He was in sleeveless surgical scrubs instead of the usual hospital whites. He smiled slightly and then looked down. “Oh, and beautiful green eyes, too.” I’ve always had a thing for green eyes.

“Captain Below...” Corpsmen Jeffries began, “meet Private Heyman!”

With as much enthusiasm as I dared to show, I smiled and said, “Hi, I’m BJ, so you’re from Gainesville!” I guess I was expecting him to act equally as interested. Boy was I disappointed when he answered rather haltingly.

“Uh, yes ma’am,” looking down at his feet again.

“Good‑looking” I thought. “But a dud. Too bad.” The moment of opportunity was lost. I turned back to my medications. It was a short and disappointing conversation.

Shortly after that the new corpsman, Art Heyman, began working on the ward. Even though I tried to ignore his presence, it was difficult. Due to a shortage of hospital whites, he continued to wear those green sleeveless scrubs. I was definitely interested in what I saw and wondered if there was a way we could become friends. After all, Art was from my home town; it would only be natural. Then remembering my resolve to honor Jesus as Lord of my dating life, I decided to learn all I could about Art before getting too close.

Art and I seldom worked the same shift which made getting acquainted difficult. I did notice that he seemed to be a hard worker, was nice to the patients, and was already making friends with the other staff members. Because mail was delivered to boxes on the unit, I could not help but notice that he was receiving letters. Through the grapevine, I learned that he had a girlfriend back home. Seemed like my prospects of becoming his friend were slim. And, there was that thing about officers not fraternizing with enlisted men. I decided to be careful of my feelings and bide my time. I would just keep on praying for God’s guidance and leadership.

During the spring of 1972, I moved from my apartment into a house with several other nurses. I continued my involvement with the youth at church, and I developed a strong relationship with Maxine and Bob Stewart’s family. Bobby, their son, and I had become good friends in the youth group. I considered the Stewarts my second family I was spending a lot of time at their home. Despite all the good things that were happening to me, I wanted to attend a Christian conference and festival for teens and college kids called Explo ’72. The only problem was the location, it was to take place in Dallas, Texas at the Cotton Bowl.

Because I persuaded the hospital chaplain to make a request on my behalf, I was granted a special two week leave to attend the Campus Crusade sponsored event. Attending Explo ’72 was just one of the reasons for going to the States, I also wanted to see my family. I thought that the Explo ’72 experience would provide an opportunity for personal spiritual renewal My reason for going home was to store up enough love and encouragement for the remainder of my overseas duty. Spending time with my family had always helped me make it through tough times. Soon all the details were made for the June trip and with great anticipation I began the 20 hour flight back to the States.

My first stop was Dallas, Texas where I participated in Explo ’72. My brother, Kenny and Sherry, a close friend, drove from Florida to meet me for the week in Dallas. It was wonderful to see each of them. We had a blast that week attending seminars, visiting with friends, and worshipping the Lord. These experiences provided the spiritual refreshment that I was seeking. Being with thousands of kids who loved the Lord and shared the same interest in putting Him first in life was incredible. Thursday night was particularly memorable. The Cotton Bowl was filled to overflowing when the program began. Our voices where united with singing praises to the Lord. As we continued to sing, the stadium filled with a sense of God’s presence and the entire crowd lifted their hands to the sky in unison to express our worship to our King. It was awesome. I cannot fully explain it but, it felt like our praise had brought a foretaste of heaven to earth. It has been a constant reminder to me that there will be a time when all believers will be unified in heavenly praises to Jesus our Lord.

Another night in Dallas was also special for me. My friend, Sherry, and I stayed in a hotel room with three other Explo participants. Each night after the services in the Cotton Bowl, the five of us would share prayer requests and then pray together. One night, I shared how hard it had been to live in Bangkok as a single Christian woman in the military. I asked the other girls to join me in praying for a Christian man to be my husband in Bangkok. They agreed. After sharing other needs, we bowed our heads and lifted our requests to our Heavenly Father. Those girls hardly knew me, yet they very lovingly prayed with me that God would send me a husband and the sooner the better. I believed that our prayer had been heard and would be answered. My part was to trust God with the details. At the end of this fantastic week, Sherry, Ken and I left Explo ’72 behind as we traveled home to our families in Florida.

Home was wonderful. My parents provided huge amounts of much needed nurturing. We ate all my favorite meals, talked, walked and even shopped. And we laughed until we could not laugh any more. I stored up all the love and caring that I could take back to Thailand with me. Leaving wasn’t easy, but it was a lot easier than I had anticipated because I would not be leaving all my family behind. My sister, Ruthie, was going back with me for the month. At the age of thirteen, my Mom and Dad had given her permission to go with me to Bangkok. Can you believe the struggle that my parents must gone through making that decision; knowing that she would fly back to the USA alone? It is a gift from them that I will never forget.

Ruthie was a very outgoing teenager and her companionship made the trip back to Bangkok much more pleasant. She helped with the transition back into military life and added a great deal of joy to my life during her visit. But some aspects of her visit did not turn out like I thought they would. My request to work the day shift during Ruthie’s visit had been denied. Instead my captain had me return to my normal rotation of days, evenings, and nights. This was disappointing because I believed Ruthie was too young to be left on her own in a foreign city. Fortunately, Ruthie took the many hours I was at work in stride. She met a young Thai girl living two doors down and they became fast friends as they explored the neighborhood together many days. Ruthie, also spent time with my roommates and our housekeeper, Chi, while I was at work or at home sleeping after a night shift. We did spend a good amount of time together and eventually, she visited the hospital with me and met the people at work, including Art. He seemed to go out of his way to be nice to her and I found that quite attractive.

One evening in July, I went to work to find that Art was also working. I was very interested to see what would happen since this was the first time we had worked an evening shift together. On the 3 pm to 11 pm shift there was less work to be done and therefore the staff tended to be more at ease. Even though Art tended to be quiet, this particular evening he seemed friendlier; more open. He and another corpsman seemed to enjoy teasing me about my trip to the States; they were very interested to know why I had gone. After many questions from Art, I finally said that I had gone to see my fiancé. Art responded with a frown that he didn't believe me. When I asked why he answered, “Because you don't act like someone who is in love.”

I smiled and teasingly asked. “How do you know I'm not in love?”

His reply, “Because I have seen how people act when they are in love and you do not act that way.”

“Why do you care what I do?” I asked. Thinking how nice it was that he seemed to genuinely care.

“Well,” he began, “when you see a friend doing something they shouldn't do, you try to stop them. You don't act like someone in love so I don't think you should get married.”

“Oh, so does that mean we are friends?” I asked.

“Yes.” Art answered quite sincerely.

Well, that was fine with me! I was truly disappointed when the nurses station suddenly came alive with the sound of patient’s call buzzers. It seemed that all the patients wanted assistance at the same moment. The rest of the evening was busy. I would have to wait and see what happened next.

Shortly before Ruthie returned to the U.S.A., she encouraged me to go with my roommate, Linda, to a party in the home of one of our fellow workers. After arriving at the house, I realized that Art was there. I couldn’t believe my good fortune, perhaps this was the night I would get to know him. I didn’t want to seem too eager so I was talking with friends when I heard someone playing guitar and singing. I decided to investigate. To my surprise, it was Art. He was sitting in a chair facing a group of listeners, and he was lighting picking out Paul McCartney’s “Blackbird.” It was mesmerizing and I found myself joining the group. I was sure that I was imagining it, but I felt that Art and I were being drawn together by the music. When he sang “Until It’s Time for You to Go” , I knew he was singing to me. What a thrill! “I’m not a king, I’m not an angel, I’m a man,” he sang. He leaned in my direction as he continued, “You’re not a queen, you’re a woman; take my hand...” It seemed as if we were the only two people in the room. Whoa! I felt like I was floating! But just as quickly as the moment had come, it was gone. The song ended and Art’s friends called him from another room to join them upstairs. I asked someone what was going on up there and was informed that that was where the “pot” was. Man, my bubble popped all over me. I grabbed Linda and we left.

At home that night, Ruthie and I talked about all the things that we had enjoyed together. It was difficult to accept that she would be leaving soon. Ruthie and I had always been close, but the month we had spent together had given her an opportunity to mature, to be independent. As a result, I listened to her opinions more carefully. After all this was the young woman who would soon fly “solo” around the globe just because she wanted to share time with me. We had prayed together when she lost her passport at the airport, we had shared adventures in elephant riding and water skiing on the Gulf of Siam, in addition we shared the knowledge of the difficulties of living in a foreign country. She was no longer just my little sister. What she thought and said made a difference to my world. So when she said, “Art is a nice guy. Why don’t you marry him?” I prayerfully took it to the Lord.

Art was friendlier the next time we worked together; I, a bit more cautious. I had decided that I could not date Art because of his lifestyle, but maybe the Lord would use me as a positive influence in his life. I decided to ask him to teach me to play a guitar I had recently bought. I hoped to take lessons and play the guitar with the teens in the Bible study group at church. I asked Art if he would teach me to play, and he readily agreed. He suggested that the lessons be given at his house. I must have communicated some reluctance because he explained that he had two roommates. So, I agreed.

I was somewhat uncomfortable when Art answered the door dressed in cut off shorts and no shirt on the day of our first lesson. It was a very warm afternoon but, just to be on the safe side I decided to make sure that we would have no misunderstandings concerning our relationship. I wanted to make my relationship to the Lord clear to him from the beginning. I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea, I was there only for the guitar lessons. So, I let him know right up front that I was a believer.

“Art, I need to tell you that I'm a Christian.”

“Far out, so am I.” He smiled.

“Boy, that’s hard to believe.” I thought. But I said something like “Oh that’s nice,” and didn’t say anything about my doubts.

During that first session, Art gave me an in‑depth lesson on the musical theory of the circle of fifths, most of which I did not understood. It struck me though, that he was very serious about his music. He also demonstrated how to hold the guitar and how to play the chords, then he taught me a tune with one chord that I was to practice for the next lesson. I offered payment for the lesson but he refused. I suggested that in the place of money I might do something for him like what his girl back home would do for him. Art looked stunned. While the wheels in his head turned; a light went off in my head. I quickly clarified that what I was suggesting was to make homemade brownies or some other favorite dessert for him. Instantly, relief flooded his face. Art hardily agreed that brownies would be great. My first lesson ended and our conversation turned to other things.

Art seemed to relax as I told him about growing up in Gainesville, Florida. When I named several people that I grew up with who had also participated in the University of Florida college choir Art became animated. He knew them also. Weird! At the party where he sang to me, we had felt some sort of attraction. Now, we were sharing details of lives that we had lived in the same city. Yet, before coming to Thailand, we had never met.

Art had offered to walk me to the bus stop and as we walked along he started telling me all about himself and what his life had been like before being drafted. He told me that he was from a Jewish family and at the age of six he had moved to Miami where he grew up. After transferring from Miami Dade Community College, he had majored in music at the University of Florida. While at school in Gainesville he had adopted the hippie lifestyle and eventually dropped out of school just short of a music degree. It wasn’t too long before the draft caught up with him and he found himself training to be a medical corpsman with the possibility of being sent to Viet Nam. When given a choice of assignments Art chose Thailand on the suggestion of a friend.

More importantly, Art shared how he had come to realize that Jesus was the Messiah. He explained that over several years, the plan of salvation had been presented to him in a variety of ways. Then, shortly before being drafted he had given his heart to the Lord in the privacy of his living room. Because he felt he could not tell his family or friends about his decision, Art had been trying to learn about being a Christian on his own. Before leaving Oakland, California, he had picked up a New Testament and had begun reading it on the flight to Thailand. As we talked, I was impressed with Art’s sincere decision to trust God with his life. I was also aware of his need to continue growing in Christ through a better understanding of the Bible.

We reached the corner of the bus stop and were enjoying ourselves so much that Art decided to walk me all the way home. After all the details he had shared with me I thought to myself, “Art, I like you, but you are definitely not the type of man I could bring home to my parents.” Yet, I knew in my heart that he was a brother in Christ. That night in my bedroom I prayed that God would use me in Art's life to help him understand what it meant to be a true believer in Christ. Then I wrote a letter to my parents giving them the details of my friendship with “a nice young man that was a new Christian with problems.”

Reflecting on the time Art and I spent together that day, I remembered my visit with those two special men from the Vietnam and the commitment I made to honor God in all I did. I wondered what might come of this new friendship with Art. I probably would have missed this opportunity if I had given in to Zack’s offer for compromised relationship. I thanked the Lord for this opportunity to glorify Him and asked that He be in control of my relationship with Art no matter what direction it took.

Back to table of contents

Chapter Four

“I will sing a new song to you, O God;
On the ten‑stringed lyre I will make music to you,” Psalm 144:9 (NIV)

My guitar lessons became an important part of my week. I don’t think I was doing very well although Art was very patient in his instructions. As the weeks passed, my progress was slow but the time we spent together was special for me. It was fun to be with him and talk about the things we had in common. I felt that Art was still somewhat emotionally involved with “his girlfriend” but that did not stop me from pursuing our friendship. In fact, I think that the time we spent together brought mutual enjoyment. Well, maybe not my guitar playing!

Then one day when we were together, I asked him to come to a youth Bible Study with me and he agreed. On the evening of the study, there was a typical rainy season downpour. I was concerned that he would give up the idea of going with me as we stood on the street corner in the rain. Fairly quickly, though, we managed to hail a cab and we were on our way. Halfway to church the taxi’s engine drowned out and wouldn’t start. As we stood in a foot of dirty rain water trying to hail another cab, I wondered if Art would use this as an excuse to bail on the idea of going to church. Instead, he suggested that we take a bus to the churches’ street and walk the rest of the way. His persistence in making it to church encouraged me.

There wasn’t a dry thread on our bodies by the time we arrived at church. Actually, many of the kids in the “Power Hour” group were also soaked. We laughed and joked about our appearance as we started the meeting with singing that night. For me, the kids were their usual, cheery selves. Everyone participated in their own unique way as the group sang, prayed, and discussed the selected Bible passage. Art seemed to be deep in thought each time I looked at him. I wondered what was going on in his head. Too soon, the evening ended with mutual “good‑byes” and “see you on Sunday's.”

Walking away from the church in a drizzling rain, Art turned to me and commented on the fact that these kids talked to God like they knew He was listening. I was deeply gratified when he said he wanted to come with me again. I believed that God began doing a work in Art’s life that night and that the testimonies of those kid’s was the key. Of course, I listened with a glad heart as he continued to talk about their faith filled prayers and about their music. We finally managed to catch a bus back to our neighborhood. Trying to keep our balance as the stood against the rhythm of the traffic, we began one of our many “discussions” of the Bible. Much too soon for me we were saying our own good‑byes.

Church was not the only time Art and I got together; we spent hours in downtown Bangkok on Sukhumvit Road walking and talking, we continued my guitar lessons and we even began working together more often. I was enjoying everything we did together; even the arguments we had concerning the Bible. Each night, I would lift Art up to the Lord in prayer and I would also read my Bible in preparation for our next dialogue. The Lord seemed to direct me to the passages I needed to read in preparation for Art’s latest question or challenge.

Meanwhile, Art began learning the choruses that the youth group sang and eventually, brought his guitar to play with the group. His interest in church grew to include Sunday worship and eventually an adult Bible study class. Everything he heard became fair game for our routine discussions of the Word. It seemed to me that Art was growing rapidly in his faith. I was amazed at the dramatic change that was taking place in his life. God had trusted me to be an instrument in the process. It was an awesome privilege to watch the transformation taking place.

One evening after work, Art called my house with the news that he had received a “Dear John” letter from “his girlfriend” . I wondered if the relief I heard in his voice was my imagination. He asked if I’d like to join him at the movies to “help heal the wound.” We teased about his new freedom. He actually seemed happier than usual. I was thrilled. Bangkok was a wonderful place to fall in love and I was falling.

That night was very special; I believed that we were beginning a new phase of our relationship. We held hands for the first time, we laughed, walked and talked late into the evening. We even skipped along “the yellow brick road” together, just being silly. My heart was full of contentment that night. I was finally free to enjoy the feelings that had been developing inside me for weeks. Life couldn’t have been much better.

This new dimension of our relationship brought new responsibility with it. Art and I were spending a lot of time together and I found him very attractive. Yes, we continued to discuss Scripture together and my priorities still revolved around Art’s spiritual growth but a new concern began to grow inside me. At twenty‑three years old I was ready to become a wife and, I wanted to have a sexually pure relationship before marriage. My prayers each night were not only for wisdom in discussing God’s Word; they were also for self‑control of my own physical desires. I did not want to ignore God’s wisdom and guidance at this important time in our dating life. I knew I was responsible for managing the emotional aspect of our relationship because I was still not sure of Art’s complete surrender to God. I began to consider how to approach this concern.

One night after dinner at my house, I felt it was time to share the concept of the Spirit‑filled life with Art. The “Blue Booklet” from Campus Crusade had been instrumental in my own understanding of this biblical principle so, now I attempted to share it with Art. I asked Art if I could share an important Biblical, he agreed. So, I began to read, “Every day can be an exciting adventure for the Christian who knows the reality of being filled with the Holy Spirit...” Art tore the booklet out of my hand, “I don’t need that.” Wham! It hit the table and slid to the floor.

I cringed and set back on the couch; surprised by his actions. He had always been so cool. He stood and walked away. I sensed God’s spirit in my heart reassuring me, I sat silently and said nothing in response as I picked up the booklet and put it away.

In just a matter of a few weeks Art and I had met, become friends, and fallen in love. I was sure that the Lord was using me to give Art a better understanding of His Word and His love. We had discussed Scripture, gone to church, and even worked together with the youth group. Now, we had a problem. I knew that unless Art would submit his life completely to the Lord we could not continue our relationship. I was in love with him. I thought he loved me too. I just didn’t know what his love was based on. If he was not interested in giving his life’s dreams to the Lord, including what he wanted for our relationship; then, I would have to tell him we could no longer date.

A short time later at a friend's party on a Saturday night, both of us expressed concern over the direction of our relationship. I told Art that I loved him, but I also was certain that God wanted me to marry a man who put God first; a Spirit‑filled man. Art shared that he cared for me, but he still wanted to make his own decisions concerning his life and that there were certain behaviors that he wasn't ready to give up. He also saw no reason to continue our relationship as it was. He felt that each of had to choose what was best for us. I suggested that we pray and ask God to show us which one of us had the right perspective. Art agreed and led us in prayer right then and there. “Lord, please show BJ and me who is right and who is wrong. Amen.”

As much as I loved Art and didn’t want to lose him, I knew that he just might choose to break up with me. I also knew in my heart that I was right in choosing purity in our relationship, or for that matter, any relationship I might have. I was ready to accept whatever happened between us.

After the party, Art walked me home; as we stopped at my gate, he hesitated. My gate had become symbolic of the struggle in our relationship. Many dates ended at the gate where we played a game: Art would say something like, “Can I stay tonight?” And I would say, “No, you can’t.” Then I would usher him out and swing the gate closed behind him. That night when we got to my house I opened the gate and walked into the yard; Art stayed on the street and he shut the gate behind me without a word. He stood there looking through the bars at me and said, “Good night, warden.” I asked, “Don’t I even get a good‑bye kiss?” With a dejected look on his face, he leaned toward a space in the gate and brushed his lips on mine and walked away. Up in my bedroom I got down on my knees. Thinking about the way Art had left that night, I wondered how this would all end. “What now, Lord?” I prayed. As usual, He quieted my heart. I had no trouble falling asleep that night.

Sunday morning I was at the Calvary Baptist Church worship service. Dr. Charles Ray, our new pastor, was giving the invitation to join the church when a very odd thing happened to me. All at once, the Holy Spirit moved my heart to walk to the front of the church. In 1972, Baptists didn’t often go to the alter for anything other than to speak with the pastor. Dr. Ray saw me and asked if I needed to speak with him. I said, “No, I’m just going to pray.” He nodded and I knelt down near the platform stairs. As I knelt, I heard the Lord speak to my heart, “Give Art to me now. If you are holding on to him in any way, give him up completely. Do not hold on to any part of him.” In a gesture of obedience and faith, I stretched out my hands in front of me with palms up. Then I turned them over with fingers spread apart as a sign of giving Art up totally. I had come to love Art and now I was being asked to give him up. Instead of a sense of sadness and loss; peace and joy filled my heart. I did not know what God would do, I only knew that I was willing to accept that Art and I might never have the permanent relationship I desired. I rose and went back to my seat. Nothing out of the extraordinary happened that afternoon.

After the evening service, I took the floral arrangement from the sanctuary to the hospital. Art was working the evening shift and I could tell that he was in a bad mood. He seemed bitter and didn’t mind expressing it. “What are you so happy about?” he asked when I placed the flowers on the counter in front of him. I was able to smile at him and remind him of our prayer request to God. I said “We prayed and He will answer us.” He only grimaced and said, “You sound like you’re putting a curse on me.” I smiled again as I entered the elevator and said good night. It was wonderful to know that my future was securely in God’s hands. I knew He wanted the best for both of us. Even Art’s sarcastic response did not affect my sense of peace; I had been freed from anxiety about our future.

I was off from work again on Monday and spent it with Ellie, a friend from church. She and I were lounging by the pool at her apartment most of the day. For fun we discussed an Inter Varsity magazine article on choosing the right mate. This was for my benefit as Ellie was already married. The article began by giving ten characteristics of a good mate; then you were encouraged to decide if the person you were interested in demonstrated this quality or not. As we worked through the list we discussed my possibilities with Art. No, he did not score 100% but, I knew that only God could ordain a marriage between the two of us. We were two people with similarities but also with very different backgrounds. Our future was in God’s hands.

A neighbor lady of Ellie’s had heard part of our conversation and very sincerely offered, “If you do marry him, I’ll bake your wedding cake as a gift to you.” I laughed and thanked her for her kind offer; I didn’t even know this lady. In my heart, I secretly hoped there would be a wedding and a wedding cake for her to bake.

Arriving at home after a very pleasant day, I found a message to call Art. Hopefully, I dialed his number. His roommate answered and I asked to speak to Art. After a moment Art came on the line.

“Hello.” He said. His voice had an unusually calm quality, as if all tension was gone.

“Hi, this is BJ, Linda said you called.”

“Yes, I did. I wanted to apologize about yesterday.”

The change I heard in his voice was phenomenal. I can’t explain it, but I knew Art had been changed. He was sweet and kind as we talked.

“BJ, I’m ready to see that booklet on the Spirit‑filled life now.” My head was spinning with “Hallelujah” and “Praise the Lord.” He was different. After making plans to meet the next day, we hung up. I sat there stunned. Even though I had only spoken to him I had just witnessed an incredible change in Art! I knew I was witnessing firsthand God’s power to change a man’s heart!

That night I had a hard time falling asleep. I was too excited about seeing Art the next day. If Art really wanted to give me a second chance to explain the Spirit‑controlled life to him, then perhaps there was hope for our relationship after all. I didn’t want to assume what would happen; I just couldn’t help wondering what God was up to.

As I awoke the next morning I felt that nothing could spoil the day for me. God seemed to be working in Art’s life and he was allowing me to see it. Whether we ended up together or not, it is always a thrill to see God at work in a person’s life. My shift at the hospital went by quickly and soon I was home waiting for Art to knock at my gate. I cannot describe the feelings that were in my heart. I wanted so much to be a permanent part of his life and yet I knew that if he could not live as a man completely submitted to Christ then we would have to part. I also knew that if Art was not the man for me that God had another to take his place.

Art greeted me warmly as he entered our patio. I could now see for myself if this change in Art was for real. In my living room I began to explain the principles of the Spirit‑filled life. As I explained that there were basically three types of persons described in the Bible, Art listened intently. He responded that he had been living as an unbeliever until he had invited Christ into his heart back in Gainesville and now he identified himself as a person who had Christ in his life but who was still in control of this own interests. I continued to explain how a person could submit his life to the Lordship of Christ and be filled with the Holy Spirit who gives power to obey Christ. When we completed the booklet I asked him if he would like to pray for the Holy Spirit to take control of his life, he said “yes” . Right then and there, Art bowed in prayer and confessed that he had been doing things his own way, he asked for forgiveness, then he submitted his life to the Lord and asked to be filled with the Holy Spirit. As he said “amen” , he smiled at me and thanked me for my patience with him.

As we sat there, I felt a peace of mind that I had not sensed in months. It was like a work that I had been given to do was suddenly completed. There was really not anything more I could do for Art except pray for him as he allowed the Lord to teach him what daily obedience was all about. Art and I continued discussing the “Blue Booklet” as we sat together that night. It explained that a believer should begin each day by confessing that Jesus is Lord and then ask Him to direct our thoughts and actions that day. Art asked a few question, we talked for a while, prayed together, and then he went home. It is said that “the proof is in the pudding” and I knew that the days and weeks ahead would be a time for Art to prove by his actions that Christ was truly his Lord. My expectations were high that night as I spent time in prayer and Bible study. Only God knew how my relationship with Art would turn out. However things between us developed, Art was now equipped to know God in the personal way he was created to know Him. I was eager to see what happened next.

Back to table of contents

Chapter Five

“Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth,
For your love is more delightful than wine.” Song of Solomon 1:2 (NIV)

I have to admit that the next few weeks passed so quickly that is difficult to put events in a proper order. It was obvious to me that he had been serious in his new submission to the Lord. Art started going to church on Sunday morning for Bible Study and to the worship service afterward , he continued to actively participate in the Wednesday night teen meetings, and he added the leadership of a youth choir to the his list of church related activities. Wow! People at work who knew him well started asking him what was going on. He gave honest answers to all who asked and would listen.

It seemed that Art and I were being assigned to work a lot of the same hours at the hospital during this period. We tried our best to keep our true feeling from showing because the army had strict rules about officers and enlisted personnel “fraternizing” or dating. As it would happen, we were being scheduled to work a lot of evening shifts together. I was the charge nurse and Art was one of the corpsmen working with me. I have to admit it was fun to have so much time together in the same place. I remember several times when there were enough sparks from that third floor ward to start a good fire. Oh, they were innocent enough. Let me share one example.

Since it was rainy season, water on the floors from daily traffic could be a problem, but one evening there was a flood on one end of the hall. The wind was driving the water under the seals on the windows. The census on the floor was down and work was slow on the ward that night. I decided to take a mop and get the water up; Art volunteered to help me. That doesn’t sound very racy, but my, my, it gave us an opportunity to be virtually alone in a place where our relationship was forbidden. Those windows steamed up as we mopped up water and rung out the mops, and enjoyed one another’s company.

Another time, someone from day shift had left a patient’s room unclean at the end of his shift. After receiving report and taking care of the immediate business on the ward, I went down the hall and started cleaning the room. Before I knew it, Art was there helping me. Once again, we were enjoying stolen moments. Our hands would innocently touch as we placed the clean sheets on the bed and my heart would race. As we stood on each side of the bed, we talked, laughed, and exchanged meaningful glances; always mindful of someone discovering us.

I have to admit, as smitten as I was, I was also afraid of being discovered by a superior. Not Art, he seemed fearless. Our relationship that had been so uncertain was now very peaceful. It seemed that the obstacles that kept us from really dating one another had been removed and in their place God was giving us His blessing. Art had made a hundred and eighty degree turn in his approach to life. It was like he was liberated from prison and now he was really “high” on life and free to enjoy it in a new way. Sometimes his way of celebrating his freedom made me a little nervous.

One day during the first shift, I came to the hospital to get my mail. Art met me on the ward and we rode down in the elevator together. We smooched on the way down and said our “good‑byes” in the elevator at the main floor. When the doors opened Art stepped out of the elevator to give me one more kiss when the door of the second elevator opened and a half a dozen army officers were inside. My heart jumped as I thought we had been discovered. To my surprise, no one had seen the kiss. Art smiled mischievously as he stepped back into the elevator and shut the door.

Moments like these were thrilling, but I wondered how long we would be able to keep our relationship a secret. I wondered what would happen to us when the word got out. You see, we heard what had happened to another couple like us in Germany. A female officer and a male enlisted man were found to be dating by their superiors. When their relationship was discovered they were told to discontinue their relationship. And, one of them was transferred to another country. In light of this, I worried about what could happen to us.

As it turns out, it wasn’t long after the mop incident that I was called to the Chief Nurses Office. Yep, someone had reported us. It could have been much worse, but Colonel Carraco was merciful to me. She asked me what our relationship was and when I explained that we were dating, she told me that since Art and I worked on the same floor, one of us would be reassigned. She then informed me that I would be oriented to the maternity and newborn nursery and begin working there immediately. She also cautioned me that Art and I shouldn’t show any form of affection at the hospital and that he would have to address me as Captain Below at any military functions including work. Whew! Was I relieved! We were being separated in the work place, but that was all. I am not sure of any reason for this show of mercy on the hospital’s part except that God was working on our behalf. He seemed to have a future for us and was ultimately in control of out circumstances. Needless to say, Art and I were very happy with Colonel Carraco’s decision.

While all this was going on at work, I was also keeping Maxine and Bob Stewart informed of my interest in Art. Because Bobby, their son was a member of the youth group, the Stewarts had an interest in Art as well. Maxine and I had been prayer partners and she was well aware of the time I had spent with Art and my desire to see him grow in his faith. It was only natural that she and Bob invited Art and me to their home for a meal. When we arrived at their home, Bob was out in the yard. He took one look at Art and said in his dry wit, “Well, BJ, he isn’t as ugly as you said.” With a smile on his face, he offered Art his hand and an opportunity for new friendship.

Bob and Maxine were very loving and accepting people. In spite of the fact that Art’s walk with the Lord was still in its early stages, they encouraged him to use his gifts. Bob invited Art to go on a mission trip with us to a small Thai village on the river. He suggested that Art prepare a song to sing for the church. Art was hesitant because he didn’t know any Christian songs, but Bob put him at ease by saying that the church would like whatever he sang because the people spoke no English anyway. I was moved by the way Bob was encouraging Art to put his faith in action. I already considered myself a member of their family and now Art was being invited in as well. What a blessing their family was to us when our own families were so far away.

My family knew very little about Art. They had the first letter I had sent them and the small amount of information that Ruthie had shared with them since her return to the States. Still, I could imagine what my parents must be thinking. So, I mailed a second letter to them explaining that Art had submitted his life to the Lordship of Christ, that he was growing in his faith each day, and that he was attending several church activities each week. I hoped that they would be relieved at the change in his life and that they would accept the fact that we were now in a dating relationship. At twenty‑three years old, I could have married without my parents’ permission or knowledge; yet I really did want my parent’s support and blessing as I made decisions about marriage.

Back to table of contents

Chapter Six

“That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife,
and they become one flesh.” Genesis 2:24 (NIV)

Just a little over a month had passed since Art and I met for my first guitar lesson, and a lot had happened in this short period of time. It seemed that we were on the fast track toward a mutual goal for our lives since Art’s submission to Christ. It was obvious to me that he was genuine in this new expression of his faith, and virtually every area of his life was changing. His old activities had ceased and in their place we spent time together discussing scripture, being involved in church or working. Since both of us were on a fulltime schedule at the hospital we tried to make the most of the time we did have. Our work schedules were not always the same and the fact that I was now working on another floor of the hospital made a real difference for us. We found it hard to see one another and then it seemed that our schedules were never compatible. The situation was rather frustrating as we were trying to find solutions about the amount of time we spent together.

One night, we were at Art’s apartment after a day of work. It was getting late and both of us were aware that I had to work the next day but it was hard to say “good night.” As we listened to music sitting on his couch, we began to kiss. Our kisses grew more and more intense and finally we were reclining on the couch, when suddenly the couch leg broke. After the shock of our fall passed, we laughed at the thought that God was keeping us honest. Both of us wanted to honor God in our dating life and we interpreted what we had just experienced as a warning from the Lord! That night we agreed that we would have a curfew of nine o’clock when either of us was working the next day. We also decided to limit the amount of time that we were anywhere alone. And, we would not allow ourselves to recline together anywhere again. As we prayed together that night, the Lord gave us a peace that we were making good choices.

As the days of September rolled around, the pattern of our dating life became habitual and one afternoon we were alone in a friend’s pool. I casually mentioned that we were spending so much time together that we couldn’t continue at that pace. I then asked him what we could do to change that. “Well, we could get married.” he said.

“What?” Was my surprised response.

“Oh.” He answered. “I was just kidding.”

Kidding or not; the subject was out of the bag. I knew that I loved Art and that I did want to marry him. I was just afraid. But a few days later when we were talking again, it was Art who voiced his reluctance to consider marriage because of his concerns about finances. He felt that it was his responsibility to complete his college education, get a job and then save enough money for us to get married and start our life together. This time I had an answer for his concerns.

“Art, I have savings that we could use. You see, I believe that God has blessed and prospered me; and I have always believed that if He led me to marry, the money would not be just mine, but ours.”

After a moment or two of thought, Art hardily agreed that with that understanding we could get married. Then he made it official.

“BJ, will you marry me?”

“Yes, I will.” was my simple and heartfelt answer.

On a warm mid‑September night in the tropics of Southeast Asia, my hopes and dreams were closer than ever to being realized. We kissed, laughed and talked about how we would go about telling people. It was a must that I inform the Chief Nurse. Harder to think about was a call to my parents. I wanted to call them but the time difference was exactly twelve hours, meaning that the earliest we could call them on a week day was six o’clock in the evening. If we called then, it would be 6 o’clock in the morning in Florida.

We decided to call my mom and dad as soon as possible because I wanted to tell them before anyone else. Also, I was hoping that someone from my family could be in Thailand for our wedding. We had decided to get married on Art’s birthday, December 8^th. That date was chosen simply because it seemed to make Art happy and because it would give my parents time to get a visa and make travel arrangements if they did choose to come.

One evening shortly after Art’s proposal, Art sat with me as I dialed my parents phone number. I was nervous because of the early hour in Florida; it was possible that we would be waking them up. If we woke them up and we had a bad connection, I was not sure how the whole thing would come off. So, with fear and trembling I dialed the country code, the state code and then my parent’s number. As sweet as you please the call went right through. My dad’s sleepy voice answered, “Hello” .

Panic hit me with I heard his voice. I tentatively said, “Good Morning, Daddy, I am sorry for waking you up. Art is here with me and he has something to tell you.” With that I shoved the phone at Art. Poor Art, he had never spoken to either of my parents and now I had forced him to break the news of our engagement. I really don’t know what I was thinking. Before this phone call, I had written my parents twice about Art. Once saying that he was a nice young man with problems, the second time telling them that I thought he was making progress toward a closer walk with the Lord, and lastly, telling them that I was falling for him. Before this last letter arrived in their mailbox, here Art was explaining to my six foot four, two hundred and twenty pound father that we were going to be married in two and a half short months. I am sure it helped that there were ten thousand miles separating them.

All joking aside, my parents were very supportive on the phone. Either they were in total shock, or the Lord had given them a double dose of grace that morning. They graciously listened to Art tell them of our plans and then he handed the phone back to me. Both of my parents were so sweet to me. We briefly spoke of the possibility of them coming to the wedding in December and then we said our good‑byes. Even though it was doubtful that anyone from my family could come to Thailand for the wedding, it was a blessing to know that my parents had reacted favorably to our news. With the knowledge that my parents were now aware of our marriage plans, Art decided to share our plans with his parents.

Back to table of contents

Chapter Seven

“Commit your way to the LORD;
Trust in him and he will do this” Psalm 37:5 (NIV)

It was awesome to see how all the circumstances of my life were coming together so beautifully since the day I submitted my life to God’s leadership. My trip to Explo ’72, Ruthie’s trip to Thailand, and my subsequent friendship with Art were all events that had been part of God’s plan. Because of my daily submission to Him, God had used me as an instrument to direct Art’s interest in knowing more about Him as his Lord and Savior. Our individual submission to the Lord had in turn led to our love for one another. Now, we were promising to commit ourselves to one another in marriage. Wow! I couldn’t stop thinking about how much God loved us. He wasn’t the only one.

As news of our wedding plans was shared, we were overwhelmed with the joyful responses. Maxine and Bob’s well‑wishes can be summed up in a cheery phrase, “Well, it’s about time!” (And here we thought we were rushing it.) We asked Bob to marry us and Bobby to be Art’s best man. With our bases covered, we began to tell others.

The kids from the church youth group got so excited that they immediately volunteered to give us a bridal shower and help with the reception. In spite of the peace I had felt about marrying Art, I had wondered about all the things I would miss doing with family. Now, I realized that God had provided a Christian family to “stand in” for my own. The missionary kid (MK) dorm mom would play the piano, the GA’s (Girls in Action) would decorate the church, and of course, Elaine’s neighbor would make the cake. It seemed that weddings were so rare among the mission community, that mine became a very special occasion for the church.

At the hospital, I first told my colonel, who took the news quite well. She even promised to be at the wedding. “Just remember,” she told me, “you will still be Captain Heyman at work. Even to Art.”

Hey, I was so happy to know I had permission to marry that I would have agreed to almost anything. This was easier than I had ever expected, but then, God was going ahead of us. He was making a way, one that would be a reminder of His grace and greatness all of our lives.

As you might well imagine, the news of an officer marrying an enlisted man caused quite a stir. But mostly, Art and I were constantly being told how happy people were for us. Art was even getting a threat or two.

“Art,” a petite nurse named Sandy sternly called as she approached him. “You better be good to her. If you hurt her,” she continued with her hand in a fist, “I'll come after you.”

Art was often accused of “changing” just to “win” me. I didn’t have this fear at all. The Lord had allowed me to see Art, “before and after” so to speak. I had no question about Art’s motives. I knew that the Lord was “directing our ways” and would continue to do that as we trusted Him with our lives.

In the midst of all the fun of sharing our good news, I received a letter from my parents. Mom and Dad communicated their continued support of our plans, but told me that they would not be coming for the wedding. Following this news, I became sad. Knowing that my family would not be with us and knowing that Art and I were committed to one another, I wondered why we were waiting until December. I went to Maxine and poured out my heart. She led me in prayer requesting wisdom and guidance that would be needed in approaching Art with the idea of an earlier wedding date. Maxine told me that she saw nothing wrong with changing a date that had been made based on the hope that my family could attend. So, with all this good support, I took a taxi to Art’s house.

Art had been sick for several days which made seeing one another more difficult. He was still on his sickbed trying to get over some tropical fever when I arrived. I told him about my idea of changing the wedding date and we prayed together. When we lifted our heads and looked at one another, he smiled and said, “Okay, let's do it. So, when do you want to do it?”

“Well,” I offered. “The Stewart’s anniversary is November first; since they have been so supportive of us, let’s get married then.” Art said it sounded good to him and that settled it. Now we were really pressed for time. Yet, it seemed that the new date caused no hang ups when making arrangements for our special day. Even the Stewarts agreed to our wedding date asking only that we get married early enough in the day to give them an opportunity to celebrate their own marriage that evening.

It seemed as if our lives were on display and people were not shy at asking questions or telling us what they thought about our plans. One of the MK girls who was an infrequent attendee to the youth activities asked me one night, “Are you and Art living together?” I was shocked and my face must have showed it because she went on to clarify; “I mean, do you live in the same place but with separate bedrooms.”

I suppose her honesty prompted me to answer honestly, “No, we don’t live together. The way I feel about Art would make it impossible for me to live in the same house and not share the same bedroom with him. We live in separate places and will until we are married.” Sexual purity was something that we had agreed on as part of God’s plan for us. I was actually glad that she had asked the question; it allowed me to share that I was living by the Biblical principles I had been teaching the youth on Wednesday evenings.

In another conversation, I was given some food for thought. Working with a civilian nurse one night soon after our engagement, I was challenged about my motives for marrying. I thought we were having a friendly chat when the nurse challenged me with the following scenario. She said, “What if you and Art get married and are on your honeymoon when you have an accident and Art is left totally paralyzed. Would you love him then? Would you want to be married to him then?”

I was shocked. I wondered why she would ask such a thing. Wasn’t she happy for me? I wanted to bask in the joy of our love story. I didn’t want to think gruesome thoughts about a young and handsome husband bound to a wheel chair from the start of our marriage. But, as we stood there talking, I couldn’t get the vision out of my head. “Lord”, I found myself praying, “I am not signing on for troubles, but she has stimulated some pretty awful thoughts and the vows do say ‘for better or worse’.” I think I told her something about taking the good with the bad; that God was sufficient for our needs no matter what happened. Then she went on to say, “It takes twenty years to make a good marriage.”

Brother, what was with this lady? We had not exchanged a disagreeable word since working together. Now, it seemed that all she could do was challenge my hope for a happy future. If nothing else, she gave me food for thought. And, a reason to be more careful when I talked with her on the job. My belief that God had brought us together was still intact even though my feelings were a bit sore. A little reality check didn’t hurt, but I was determined not to be dissuaded from my personal celebration of God’s blessings in my future marriage.

Art and I continued to study the Bible together and read books that we felt would help us to develop as Christians. As we studied, Art became more and more interested in baptism. He talked with our pastor and decided that he should be baptized before our wedding. Our new date did not leave much time, so Art was scheduled for baptism Sunday evening, the 29^th of October.

Our wedding plans were coming together as Art and I asked our friends to be part of the wedding party. Bobby Stewart was to be Art’s best man and Linda Jones was my maid of honor. Several of our friends agreed to be ushers. It was quite a crew; Ralph, Michael, and then, Ray, who took Michael’s place when he was sent on a temporary duty assignment. Lisa, a cute little army brat was my flower girl and a blond little MK was the ring bearer. Betty agreed to play the piano; and so we were set. The really fun part was my dress.

There were no wedding dress stores in Thailand. In fact it was almost impossible to find a dress store in the city. It was quite a process to get any piece of clothing made. First, the material had to be sought and found in one of the many cloth shops. Then, you would go to a seamstress and present a picture of the piece of clothing that you wanted made. Measurements would be taken and length, trim and price would be discussed. My size made the ordeal even harder, you see, the Thai people are very petite and when they sew standard patterns are not used. They are also used to making the most out of the minimum of material.

When I ordered any piece of clothing, my seamstress was challenged by the fact that I was three inches shy of being six feet tall, about a foot taller than the tallest Thai lady. Even though I was fairly thin for my height, trying to get the correct proportions in my clothes seemed to pose a major challenge for her. I always had to have a seam or two adjusted which meant extra fittings. So, choosing the fabric for my wedding dress and then working with my tailor for the right style and fit by the week of the wedding was of great urgency.

I wanted a lace dress and, after searching through several shops, I chose a daisy‑chain lace. It was made of rows and rows of dainty daisies connected by simple stitches. The style of the dress was a simple one, an A‑line style with a short sleeved satin sheath under the long‑sleeved lace dress that buttoned up the back and at the wrists. With a description of the dress and ample material, my tailor began sewing. At the final fitting, I was thrilled with a perfectly fitted dress and a veil that had little daisies cut and applied very stylishly. With the extra material, my seamstress had covered a pillow for the ring bearer. As I looked at my reflection in the mirror, I could think of nothing but the day I would walk down the aisle into Art’s waiting arms.

Back to table of contents

Chapter Eight

“May he give you the desire of your heart
And make all your plans succeed.” Psalm 20:4 (NIV)

Only last minute details stood in the way of our wedding. Even though there were not many, each one was important. Final fittings, arranging for our new apartment, double checking our vacation time for the honeymoon, working out the details of the ceremony, and my beauty regime, I wanted everything to go smoothly and so I planned my days well.

After I had my dress safely home, Art and I went for the final fitting of his suit. There was no tuxedo shop, so Art encouraged me to assist him in finding a tailor who would make his suit. I suppose we were being practical when we chose the brown material, a little nutty when we chose a tangerine color for his ruffled shirt, but what were we thinking when we chose a Young Edwardian style? Hey, I can only suggest that we were influenced by the styles that continued to reflect the era of the “flower child”.

Now, Art and I were ready. We had read as many books on marriage preparation as were available in Bangkok and had spoken to our pastor concerning any wisdom he might offer us. We had been honored with two showers and had made the final arrangements to move into our newly decorated apartment. Invitations to the wedding had been sent out and a marriage announcement was ready to be mailed. Our days off were on the calendar at work, our clothes in our closets, and as far as I was aware of, the church was ready for the ceremony and reception. All that was left was the rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner at the Stewart’s home, and my bridal beauty regime. Oh, yes, and our legal marriage at the American Embassy.

That’s right. Our legal marriage took take place at the American Embassy on Monday, October 30^th, two days before our church wedding. It was so weird. We arrived at the embassy in the early afternoon and met with a Thai official who recorded all legal marriages of American citizens in Thailand. He asked us a series of questions, had us sign our names in a registry and pay fifteen dollars. With a shake of our hands, he left the room asking us to wait until he returned. I looked at Art and said, “Kiss me quick. I think we are married.” Art kissed me then asked, “Are you sure? He didn’t say we were.” So we stood around wondering what would happen next.

In a few minutes, Art and I were surprised to see the American Ambassador walking down the hall toward us. He had a big smile on his face and he took my hand and began shaking it while he said something like, “Well, congratulations, Mrs. Heyman. It is so nice to meet you on this special occasion.” Then he turned to Art and greeted him in the same enthusiastic way. Art and I looked at one another and laughed. We asked when it had happened. “Why, when you signed your names in the official Thai registry you became husband and wife.” explained the ambassador. “If you wait right here,” he continued, “I will have some translated copies of your marriage certificate prepared for you.” And with that, he took his leave.

Wow! Talk about anticlimactic! I sure was happy we had a real ceremony to look forward to. It was difficult to accept the fact that we were legally married after such a cryptic process, but I must admit that our Thai marriage certificate was beautiful and we have enjoyed displaying it over the years. After leaving the embassy, we went out to eat at our favorite restaurant to celebrate. October 30^th each year brings a smile of remembrance to my heart. Whether we had ever had a church wedding or not, I would still have been Mrs. Art Heyman.

Now, the marriage was real and the festivities before our ceremony began with the wedding rehearsal. Bob’s dry sense of humor put everyone at ease and before long each member of the party had been prepared to carry out their special part. Maxine and Bob graciously hosted the rehearsal dinner in their home. Maxine and Moogie, (her maid) had prepared a wonderful Thai meal with several delicious dishes including Thai curry. The house was beautifully decorated, all our friends were present, and I couldn’t think of anything better than becoming Art’s wife. Then, Art stood up. “I have an announcement to make.” He said animatedly. I looked up into his face with joyful eyes as he was saying, “Friends, I believe that God has been leading me to a decision concerning my future. I believe that I have been called to be a missionary.”

Wow! A truly wonderful celebration had just become indescribable! “What a wonderful gift to receive on the evening before our wedding.” I thought. You see, many years earlier, as a child of nine, I, too had been called into mission service. Throughout my college years and all during my army nursing experience, I had continued to believe that God’s plan for me included missionary service. I had not mentioned it to Art because the Holy Spirit had given me a peace concerning our future. Now, I marveled once again how freely the Lord demonstrates His loving kindness toward us. I now had assurance that my husband shared a call to serve God through international missions; I did not have to enter my marriage wondering about it. My love for the Lord and for Art grew even stronger in that moment.

As Art walked me to my house, I began mentally reviewing my plans for the few hours remaining before our wedding. Earlier in the day, I had made a casserole for our first night as husband and wife. Now, my thoughts were focused on doing my hair for the big event. Since my hair was long, curly and unruly, I had decided to straighten it that night. When we reached my house, I started to say “good night,” but Art seemed to have other ideas. He entered the house with me and started taking off his sandals as is the custom in Thailand. “Uh, Art, Don’t you think you should go home and let me get ready for tomorrow.” “It’s early, BJ” he responded. “But, I have to plan for tomorrow; my hair, what jewelry I will wear, make sure I'm all packed. You know.”

Art failed to pick up on my hints that he should leave so I could get beautiful for him. So, we talked awhile and when he said he was hungry, I heated up the “honeymoon casserole” and we ate it! By then, it was about eleven o'clock. Realizing that I would be up all night I said as kindly as possible, “I really, really, need you to go. I wanted to surprise you but now I am telling you. I want to straighten my hair for tomorrow. Please go home.”

One of Art’s endearing traits is that he always seemed to be open to new experiences; including helping me straighten my hair. When he suggested that he stay to help me. I explained with a smile, “There has to be some mystery surrounding the bride on her wedding day. I promise to see you tomorrow at the church. I will be the one walking down the aisle.” Disappointed, he looked down and replied, “I agree to leave, but I wish that we were man and wife already. I guess tomorrow will have to do.” We shared a lingering good night kiss and he reluctantly walked down the driveway to the gate.

“That sweet man!” I thought. It was tempting to spend more time with him, but he has to understand. “My plan is to be a bride only one time, a straight haired bride.”

My frizzy curls did not do well in the hot, humid Thai climate and I wanted to look beautiful with long straight hair under my wedding veil. It seemed an impossibility but I had to try. I had the chemicals to do the job although, time, an ancient hair dryer, and humidity were against me. I used the chemicals, rolled my hair on large rollers and slept under the hair dryer, hoping that I might just have the look I was hoping for by the time the ceremony began.

At 2 a.m., I finally got to bed with the hooded hair‑dryer in place and the dryer on. I awoke periodically during the night to check on the dryness of my hair. Every time I checked, it was damp. Without help from above, I was going to be a Franken‑bride! I needed a miracle.

At eleven in that morning, with only three hours until the music started; Art called and woke me up. It was Wednesday, November 1, 1972! Our wedding day!

“Good Morning, sleepy head” he began. “I love you. Mrs. Heyman.

“I love you to. Are you ready?” I yawned.

“Yep. I've been up for hours. I can't wait. By the way, can you and the Stewarts come get me on the way”

“What!” I exclaimed. “You can’t see me before the wedding! It’s a rule!”

“So? I thought since I live on the way to the church, you could give me a lift. If you don’t, I’ll have to walk out for a cab. You know how hot it is!”

“Art, there are some traditions that I want to keep. You will have to get yourself a taxi. I want you to see me for the first time today coming down the aisle. You cannot ride with me. I’m sorry.”

Art reluctantly agreed and we hung up. Now, I was in a panic. Time was of the essence! As I took my hair down, I discovered that parts of my hair were still damp.

“Oh, No! What can I do?” I was freaked. I decided to brush out each curl with the blow dryer and hope for the best. Precious time was spent brushing my locks dry. After re‑rolling my hair on the large rollers, I hoped and prayed that all the time and trouble would be worth it. Running down stairs, I met Chi, our housekeeper, “You must eat!” I ran to the fridge and found the leftovers of the “honey‑moon” casserole and ran back up the stairs to continue my preparations.

Miraculously, I was ready when the Stewart’s van drove into our driveway to pick me up. Wedding dress and shoes in one hand and hairbrush and dryer in the other, I jumped into the van. I had made it this far; now I was nervous. It was about one fifteen p.m. and the ceremony began at two o’clock. I prayed silently for light traffic. Bangkok was a dirty city and the midweek traffic could be awful. The heat was always a problem since cars were not air conditioned. I hoped to arrive at the church as cool and calmly and quickly as possible.

The trip through traffic wasn’t bad. Bob and Maxine were talking about their plans to celebrate their anniversary that night. We loved them and wanted to be married on their anniversary to honor them, but we never thought that our decision would inconvenience them. “Maxine, Bob, I never thought about your plans for today.” Maxine turned to me and said, “Listen, little girl, it is our pleasure to celebrate with you today. But, after the wedding you are on your own! We have plans tonight.” I laughed at her good natured response and thanked God again for such good friends.

Upon our arrival at the church, I was directed to the only air conditioned room on the compound. As I entered the pastor’s house I thought, “The remaining minutes of my single life will be spent here in ‘my bridal salon’”. As I brushed out my hair, I was more than satisfied with the result. The process of slipping into my dress, making final placement of my hair, and placing the veil on my head, calmed my spirit. “This is where I want to be, and marrying Art is what I want to do - with all my heart.”

Linda, my bridesmaid, joined me shortly before the music was to signal my entrance into the church auditorium. She excitedly pulled out her camera and suggested that I pose for my first photo as a bride. I found it easy to smile and show off for the camera. Looking into a mirror, I was pleased at my reflection. But even more importantly, peace filled my heart as I anticipated becoming Art’s wife. The fulfillment of my prayer sent heavenward in Dallas was close at hand.

Back to table of contents

Chapter Nine

“For this reason a man will leave his father and mother
and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh.” Genesis 2: 24 (NIV)

Music filtering through the walls of my place of waiting told me that it was almost time to begin. Soon, I would be Mrs. Art Heyman. A thrill passed through me as Linda and I walked the short distance to the auditorium entrance. Standing in the foyer, I was stunned by the number of people sitting in the pews. There were missionaries and their families, military personnel, business people and a good number of Thai nationals. All these people were kind enough to join Art and me on this day of celebration. My heart could scarcely take it in.

The church was beautiful. Calvary church was a white building with walls made of bricks layered in a lattice‑forming pattern. Its beauty had been enhanced by elegant arrangements of tropical flowers. I was touched by the work done by my church community to enhance the usual warmth of the sanctuary. Tears came to my eyes as I took in all the love and tenderness that filled this room. This place had been prepared perfectly for our marriage ceremony.

The first chords of the “Wedding March” began and I stepped into the aisle resting on Bob Stewart’s arm. I saw the smiling faces of many friends as I walked past, but the only face that held any interest for me was Art’s. He stood at the front waiting for me. What a magical moment. Our eyes met and we were one. I was leaving the past behind; and Art stood there welcoming me to a future with him. A crowd of witnesses surrounded us. The moment was full of affirmation as I arrived at the front of the church and my hand was placed in Art’s.

Bob gave me over to Art in the name of my mother and father; then he took his place at the altar and began the ceremony with these words; “Holy and happy is the sacred hour when two devoted hearts are united by the enduring ties of matrimony.” This simple phrase held the hope of all that I had desired in marriage, and God was the person who made it all possible through His amazing grace. Looking up into Art's smiling face, I was overcome by a feeling of gratitude to be chosen for such a wonderful man. The moment was full of promise for a wonderful future as husband and wife. With Bob's explanation of the covenant of marriage, I also was fully aware of the responsibility of our union: “For the two shall be one flesh; one in thought, one in purpose, one in love.”

As we exchanged our vows my voice was soft, but my resolve was very strong. I promised to be Art’s wife, to love and cherish him no matter what. I determined in my heart that I would keep these promises “until death shall break these vows”. I believed that God, who brought us together, was entering into our covenant on that special day and that He would give us the power to keep them. Art voiced the same promises to me, and I believed him. Our vows were sealed with the exchanging of rings, “emblems of unending love and devotion”. It was glorious to hear those long awaited words, “I pronounce you man and wife.”

To symbolize our new union, Art and I planned to light a large candle from two smaller candles while Bobby sang his own version of the song “Just When I Need Him Most.” This powerful expression of two lives becoming one was almost preempted by fire. The flame of my candle touched the edge of my veil causing a little flame of its own. I was not really aware of it and Bob stepped forward to quickly extinguish it. Art and I didn’t miss a beat as we turned to light our “unity candle” together. (Looking back, I believe that even the little problem with the veil became part of the symbolism of our marriage relationship. Challenges have “flared up” from time to time in our marriage, and at times we have needed the aid of others to put them out, but Art and I have determined to keep our unity intact.)

As Art and I held our flames to the wick of the larger candle, Bob talked of two lives “in the beautiful unity of marriage blessed and controlled by Jesus Christ. With a blessing he concluded this part of the ceremony, “As the candle flame gives its glowing light and warmth, may your marriage always proclaim and always share his love with each one whose lives you will touch.” My excitement mounted as I returned to my position on the platform. I was now Art's wife! And then, Bob spoke those special words that had come to have particular importance in every wedding: “And now, you may seal your covenant with a kiss.”

Art reached over with purpose and lifted my veil. He gently took me in his arms and tenderly kissed me. A number of flash bulbs went off and an affectionate murmur rose from the congregation to further seal the moment in our memories. Hand in hand we faced Bob as he prayed his final benediction over us.

“O Lord, our most gracious Heavenly Father, how we rejoice in this wonderful occasion this afternoon. How we thank you, Lord, for bringing this couple together here in a far‑away place from their home. And yet, being led of your Spirit and according to your will coming to this decision, to this place of giving their lives to one another this afternoon. We thank you for Art, we thank you for BJ, and we thank you for what they have meant to each of our lives. We thank you for their witness for you, we thank you for the love and joy that they have in Christ, the love that you have given them for one another.

“We are thankful for the happiness that we have in looking forward to the future, the way that you will bless and use their Christian home. Father, we pray that you would just be very near to them, help them always to look to you, always to depend upon your leading, and always let Christ be the head of their home. And now, may the Lord bless you, and keep you. May the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you. May the Lord lift up His countenance upon you and give you peace. Amen.”

Even as we lifted our heads from prayer, the first notes from the recessional began. Art and I left the altar hand in hand, our faces reflecting what was in our hearts. Smiling at one another and our well‑wishers, we exited the building. Art in his double‑breasted suit and me in my long lacy dress, enjoyed our first embrace as husband and wife. What a thrill!

Art and I had come from the same town in Florida to this world‑away place. We had come at different times, with different backgrounds, and with different dreams. We were God’s kids and He had a plan for each of us. I believe He wanted us to recognize our continual need to obey Him and to recognize His Lordship in our lives through the circumstances of being in the army in a foreign country. As each of us submitted to Him, He was pleased to hear our prayers and honor them.

November first will always be a date of remembrance for me. It will be a day when I look back with wonder and gratitude at the adventure Art and I shared in Bangkok, Thailand. You see, God had given me His eternal love when I accepted His redemptive plan for my life as a child, and then He had given me the power to live for Him when I submitted myself to his Lordship as a young adult. Earlier in the spring of 1972, in the Fifth Field Army Hospital, He led me to reaffirm my submission to His will before leading me to pray for a husband. On my wedding day, He answered my prayer and He gave me someone to love all the days of my life. Now isn’t that an unlikely love story!

If you haven’t done so already, I encourage you to read Art’s book Something to Live For to learn of his conversion to Christ and how he remembers meeting and falling in love with me during our time in the army in Bangkok, Thailand.

Continue reading to see a few photos of Art and me during our time in the army and in Thailand.