:: the story
My first recollection of Sean is a blur—literally. He was working for Kinko's, and he always seemed to be rushing from one place to the next, like making copies or typesetting a flyer was the most urgent and important thing he'd ever done. Looking back, I'd have to say it's kind of a miracle that we even met, 'cause he never slowed down for anybody!

At first, our friendship was pretty casual, an outgrowth of being "in the trenches" of customer service together. Over time, I discovered we had a lot in common. I remember finding out that he was a believer in the back office where we were counting the cash in our tills, talking about DC Talk and his 21st birthday. I was so excited that somebody else shared my convictions about Jesus in a morally lax company culture that had been established by a pot-smoking hippie.

We also found that we shared an affinity for going to movies and good conversation. I can't begin to list all the times we saved the world in one way or another. As it turns out, only children with perfectionist tendencies are prone to redesign everything from the way a new coworker should be trained to the way the cinematographer captures a moment on film. In fact, I think they may have invented the term "rant" just for us.

There was a time when we talked about dating each other fairly early on, but I really refused to even entertain the idea. (He was five years younger than I, and still lived at home.) We agreed to go our separate ways for a while, and I'm pretty sure that it was one of the smartest decisions we've ever made. It helped us preserve the friendship without putting undue pressure on it to make it something it wasn't ready to be.

Eventually, I moved on professionally to another organization, but I still made frequent mention of "my friend Sean from Kinko's" in conversation (usually in reference to his computer genius). About three years ago, though, he got promoted to just Sean when he came to work with me at Gospel Publishing Association.

I had started working there in March of 2002, and had explained the completely outmoded system of order taking and tracking that was in place there. I told him that I needed someone with his skill set to help me get the company into the 21st century, but he was extremely reluctant to commit. Fortunately, he got fed up with working at Kinko's, and the rest, as they say, is history. We went to lunch together just about every day, and quickly developed a genuine transparency. We flourished professionally, too, regularly joking that we "shared a brain." It was our creative connection that helped us accomplish some incredible things on behalf of the company like creating a database from scratch, changing the format of our publication from a newsprint tabloid to a four-color glossy digest, and creating a new corporate identity called Promise Network.

Personally, Sean became the natural "go-to" for just about everything, most significantly helping me move my father and sister into their new house when they came to Birmingham from Ft. Collins, Colorado. In all the time we spent together, we never seemed to tire of each other's company, which is one of the most incredible aspects of our relationship.

In January, I realized that things were not quite right between us. Sean was unusually terse, and reluctant to talk to me. He tried to tell me that we needed to put some space in between us, but within two weeks, we were right back into our rut. At the end of April the bottom fell out of my life. My father died unexpectedly as the result of a blood clot. My aunt lost a five-year battle with pancreatic cancer. And my sister moved to Memphis to live with her aunt. Not pretty.

Then, in June, Sean really threw me for a loop. On a day that we're now calling "Dramatic Friday," he came to my house and basically broke up with me. He set very clear boundaries to redefine the relationship. No more lunches every day, no being alone in the office after hours, no calling each other. Just coworkers. Then he summed it all up by saying that what we had was unique and special—that we were "amazing together." He walked to the door, threw the words "I love you very much" over his shoulder, and slammed the door behind him. I could hear the romance novelist narrating in the background, "She stood there mute. Unable to say what he wanted to hear. Stricken that he would abandon her after everything they had been to each other."

I numbly sat on the sofa and mulled over what he had said, shocked that there was such a decisive ultimatum. It was so mind-boggling to look at our relationship through his eyes. Fresh perspective is always enlightening. In the days that followed, I found myself leaning toward believing he was right. Three long weeks later, I realized that Sean had made the first decision without me that I could remember, and I didn't think that was fair. So I told him so, and asked if we could set aside some outside of work time to discuss it. He initially tried to put me off until Monday, but I urged him to meet me for dinner on Friday night. At his request, we met on the Southside and went back to his apartment for dessert.

So many things were said that night, most of them too private for a web page. Most importantly, he revealed that he had known beyond doubt that he had to put an end to the way it was in order to experience what could be. More poetically, our relationship had to die, and something would either rise from the ashes or we'd freely go our separate ways. Suffice it to say that at the end of the evening, I asked myself, "How much more than 'amazing' do I really want?" This guy is willing to take a risk and make real sacrifices for what he believes. I'd be crazy not to explore what it might be like to "date" him. To be perfectly honest, we'd pretty much been dating the past year anyway. Why forego something as wonderful as kissing?

After "Decision Friday" as we like to call it, everything kind of magically fell into place. Not long after our first official date on July 1 (we went to see Cats at the Virginia Samford), we found ourselves in deep. I suppose you could call it a whirlwind engagement, but both of us figure after ten years, we pretty much know this is it.

God makes all things beautiful in His time.

copyright 2005 sean and carolyn walsh