She was a bit like Mma Makutsi from ‘The No.1 Ladies Detective Agency’. You know, the skinny secretary who clomps about in heels too high for her gait. Serious, uptight, frumpy blouses, large spectacles, super-spiritual, scorning all things worldly, but loyal, sensitive and a tad naive.
He was a thug. Doing things with his mates that we tut about when we hear it on the news. Habitually drunk, obsessed with his hair, drugged up to his eyeballs, driving at 100 mph on his motorbike in a built up area. He tampered with his cherished transport so that the exhaust was so loud, it woke up the neighbours 3 streets away.
If she had seen him then, she would have turned away in disgust. So would he, if he had spotted her hair, glasses, attitude and clothes.
She would have wanted to talk about Amy Grant, he would have wanted to discuss how they could get stoned.
She was avoiding nightclubs and ‘all things of the devil.’ Tip tapping away poetry on her typewriter that sounded like a generator supplying energy to a block of flats. He was enjoying the Sex Pistols, police cells and Cannabis.
But he and she changed…considerably. He sobered up, she calmed down.
He realised his need for a Saviour and she realised she needed to be gracious.
It was their wedding anniversary yesterday and they celebrated 12 great years.
Anwar and I still marvel at how God brought us together. He knows what he is doing even if no-one else does. And his timing is perfect.
He has made all things beautiful in his time. (Ecclesiastes 3:11)