Squire Rushnell

The pastor reached inside his suit pocket and produced a folded piece of paper. “Dean could not be with us this morning, but he did leave a letter for DiAnn.”

A hush fell over the room, and I teetered between hysterics and sheer bewilderment. Why couldn’t the pastor have pulled me aside to break the news? My heart pounded furiously as I stood there in total humiliation and disappointment. Too stunned to even utter a protest, I watched in horror while the pastor unfolded the letter.

With heartfelt words, Dean began his letter explaining how he had gradually fallen in love with each member of my family. He stated how his friendship with me had grown from admiration to a deep love. His first love was Jesus, and he knew I shared the same feelings. Together we would establish a loving, Christian marriage and realize the blessings of our Lord. His love and commitment extended to my sons as well.

The letter concluded that he waited for us at a secret destination. There, he awaited me at the altar.

Where could Dean be?

We boarded a church bus, with the video still filming my every emotion, while I searched futilely for a possible wedding location. We continued driving, and my mind raced with the possibilities. Then the bus turned into a lovely subdivision. There stood my husband-to-be in front of a beautiful and spacious new home. In the front yard, a sign leaned against a huge pine tree. It read: The Mills Residence, established November 24, 1993.

Candles and baskets of pink flowers surrounded a kneeling bench in front of a marble fireplace. Dean stood there, arms outstretched. A black grand piano filled the room with the music of love. Dean’s T-shirt had been right?God does listen.