They Said Our Marriage Would Never Last

I glanced at our wedding photos hanging on the wall and realized how long it had been since I truly looked at them. I see those images every day, yet I hardly pay them any attention. Today, however, I stepped closer to the one where we were sharing a kiss. My husband appeared thinner back then, with sharp jawlines that made him look almost starved when I first met him. I was thin too, just a girl with dreams of creating a happy family. I noticed the date on the pictures “Wow, it’s been nine years already. Time really flies when you’re not watching the clock. Wasn’t it just yesterday that I met this gentleman at the seminar?”

Yes, at a seminar that’s where I met my husband, or perhaps he met me? Well, we found each other. After a lengthy presentation by the speaker, all participants were divided into four groups to tackle different assignments. We had just fifteen minutes to devise the best solution for environmental degradation, and that’s where our paths crossed.

I was used to being the dominant voice in debates. I thrived in group settings because everyone usually agreed with my suggestions. But that day, I faced a challenge. Every idea I proposed was countered by this gentleman, whose suggestions were embraced by the group, leaving me feeling small and insignificant. I decided to remain silent. Even when asked questions, I replied, “I honestly don’t have any ideas.” Why bother when I knew my best thoughts would be dismissed as soon as he spoke?

I felt angry but maintained a forced smile throughout the discussion. My groupmates were indifferent to my feelings; after all, we were all strangers. After the session, he approached me and said, “You don’t have to take it personally. I appreciated everything you said; I was just trying to challenge you to express more because I was intrigued by your intelligence. I apologize if I came off as rude or overly assertive.” I shrugged and replied, “I’m fine. It’s nothing personal. As you can see, I was smiling through it all.”

He saw through my facade and continued to engage with me. I was determined to keep up the appearance of being unaffected so he wouldn’t think I was petty. We kept talking, and after the program, we exchanged contact information. When I got home, he checked in on me. The next day, he called to see how I was doing. The day after that, he made jokes over the phone to make me laugh. A week later, we met again at a quiet bar where we shared a meal and discussed our interests, dreams, and fears. He said, “I find you intelligent, but what intrigues me more is how you carry yourself. I noticed you during the program. There’s a grace and calmness about you that I admire. I like you. Would you be my girlfriend?”

I nearly choked on my food. It was so unexpected. Yes, I liked him too. He embodied everything he said I was intelligent, humble, persuasive, and graceful. But his proposal felt too sudden. It had only been a week, and I wasn’t ready to accept, even though I had already accepted him in my heart. I coughed, took a sip of juice, and calmly said, “Don’t joke about matters of the heart. How can you like me so quickly? How can I be your girlfriend? We just met well, we’ve met before, but this is our first real encounter. How can I be your girlfriend?”

He replied, “I know what I want, and it shouldn’t take years to recognize what’s good for me. You’re good for me, and I know it. Just think about it. We could be great together.”

How did he know I needed time to think? How did he anticipate my response? Yes, I liked him. I actually loved him, but I wanted to pretend I was considering it so he wouldn’t think I was easily won over. Time has a peculiar way of making things seem more valuable the longer it takes. Just like wine the longer it ages in the oak barrel, the more valuable it becomes. I kept his proposal in the barrel of my heart, nurturing it until I was satisfied with its worth.

Guess how long it took for me to say yes… one year? Two years? No! It took longer than you might think. It took a whole three days for me to run to him and accept his proposal. Don’t judge me; I couldn’t hold out any longer. It could have been two days, but God granted me an extra day, making it three.

I don’t understand why couples often face challenges just when love seems to be blossoming. The first time I kissed him, I knew he was the one. If there were any justice in the world, the path love paved for us would be lined with gold and adorned with roses, with the air filled with sweet fragrances. But no, our first obstacle came from my parents.

Dad said, “Look at the man your cousin Rose married. He didn’t belong to our church. He promised Rose’s parents he would attend our church after the wedding. What happened? Where’s Rose now? She has strayed from Jehovah and is now following an unapproved path to the kingdom. Don’t become a victim.” I replied, “Dad, I’m not Rose, and Kusi is not Rose’s husband. We’ll figure it out.”

Mom added, “That’s the problem with you kids. You trust too easily and think adults are wrong. We’ve seen enough to know what’s true. Listen to us. That guy can’t lead you to Jehovah. Let him go!”

They both walked away, leaving me in tears until my eyes were swollen. Kusi’s parents were somewhat more accepting, but they also had reservations about my faith. Their favorite scripture against our relationship was 2 Corinthians 6:14. Until that moment, I didn’t realize the Bible had a verse against two people in love. His mother told me, “Francisca, I love you like a daughter and would be happy to have you as my in-law, but tell me, are your parents okay with this? Are they happy you’re not marrying someone from your church?” I answered honestly, “They’re not happy, and they believe Jehovah won’t approve because our marriage isn’t built on a solid foundation. But I want to ask, is there any foundation stronger than love, friendship, and dedication?”

We spent two years trying to convince our parents to see things our way. Finally, my dad called Kusi in for a man-to-man conversation. He was straightforward, “I won’t allow you to take my daughter to your church. If you try, I’ll make your life difficult. I’m not asking you to come to our church; if you do, you’ll see the face of Jehovah, but I won’t force it on you. Just promise me you won’t pressure my daughter into your church.”

Kusi agreed. He even added that he wouldn’t mind if our children attended my church.

From that day on, Dad softened his stance. Mom remained skeptical because all the examples she had in mind didn’t end well. I understood; she loved me too much to leave me in the hands of someone she feared might lead me astray.

Our wedding was simple and straightforward, conducted according to my church’s doctrines. My husband even attended services with me for several months before the wedding. As I was leaving my home to join my husband, my mother warned, “If you miss even one service, I’ll be at your house the next day.”

After nine years of marriage, the only days I didn’t attend church were the days I gave birth and couldn’t get up. I’ve always been present, and my husband has consistently attended his church. When it’s necessary for me to accompany him to his church, I do so with love and an open heart. Honestly, I enjoy their services, but I can’t admit this to my parents, nor does it mean I’m being forced to stay in my church. It’s where I belong, and I will always be there. It’s my first love.

They said it wouldn’t work. My mother had countless examples to share. My father pointed to my cousin’s marital troubles as a reason not to marry. Kusi’s father often quoted 2 Corinthians 6:14 against our union, yet here we are. Nine years into a beautiful relationship that has blessed us with four wonderful children and a business we call our own, we continue to hold on to each other as we navigate life’s challenges together.

He calls me J, even though none of my names contain the letter J. When he wants to tease me, he affectionately refers to me as “Jehovahba Francisca (Daughter of Jehovah).” What could have been a source of conflict has become a source of joy and laughter for us. It’s all about perspective—how you view things determines whether they become a problem or a joy. From my perspective, we will be together until our last days. Ultimately, God will judge whether we made the right choice or not. Until that day, our lives will continue to overflow with love and commitment. He’ll call me Jehovahba Francisca, and I’ll respond, “Your head like coconut,” just as I always do.  

—Francisca,  
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