Originally posted on Grace and I’s wedding website under the tab: “our story.” We felt most “our story” pages were like an endless field of corn, row after row of cliche. Corn isn’t bad. But after the third row you want seasoned meat. You want a variety of fruit. This was my attempt at something more nutritious and colorful:

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On St. Patricks Day 2023, Nathan and Grace ate pancakes at the Brickerville House. Both were a little nervous, as it goes on first dates. Grace watched Nathan disassemble and reassemble his Pilot G2 pen over 50 times without breaking eye contact. And Nathan watched Grace tear straw paper into itsy bitsy pieces. They were captivated in a conversation where time vanished. By noon the manager was irritated. And by 3’o’clock they were kicked out. The two have never returned to the Brickerville House since.

The developing love found new settings. Often in the woods with Grace questioning, “Do you know where we are?” or “Are we trespassing?” When they would finally settle down Grace preferred a comfy chair on a porch with a summer evening scene unfolding, two scoops of ice cream in hand. Or even Nathan’s Ford Pickup – A truck he joked is the same age as him – and where Grace sat in the passenger seat like a happy dog. Nathan found joy in this too. 

Grace lives in Mt. Joy and Nathan, Mt. Gretna. The valley between them spans twenty-eight minutes by car, crossing eight bridges, four municipalities, and countless woods and fields, out of which animals abound. The animals seen on each of their late night drives home were later reported to the other: Foxes, feral cats, canines, “Lots of coon parties,” Grace told. Deer, doe, skunk, “and her babies following.” Opossum. “I’ve hit lots and lots of frogs,” Grace finished, “actually a concerning amount.” 

Then came the unfortunate news that two of the eight bridges were being replaced at nearly the same time. And the twenty-eight minutes became thirty-five. “It could be symbolic if you were curious enough for an analogy, “ Nathan deviated, “I think In both of us, along the route of our hearts, these decrepit bridges — say of, attitudes, behaviors, past pain held tightly — simply needed to go. It was hard – a lot of exposed rebar and chipped concrete brought tears, fears, and frustration, but with God’s help we were built back stronger.” Nathan paused, staring across the horizon. “And there will be more bridges to rebuild — but I’m confident in the road work thus far.” 

Nathan is contemplative, works as an engineer, and as of late, eats steaks regularly. “Nathan is like chicken pot pie,” Grace added, “specifically the kind my nanny used to make — reliable and dependable, comforting and calming. And I always get excited when someone mentions it.”  

Grace is quick-witted, playful, and well-dressed from her curated thrifted finds.  She is slightly claustrophobic and directionless, which is partly why she never applied to be a cave tour guide, or, at 5-ft clean, a giraffe chiropractor. “That’s a real thing, you know!” And that’s okay because Grace is a nanny to several grateful families. “Grace is like a refreshing seltzer water,” Nathan said, “ — maybe a La Croix or Polar water – I have like two a day. They are refreshing and fun and her bubbly, boppy joy is so hydrating — Enlivening.”  

The pair thus far are a recipe worthy of sharing, and it keeps getting better. “Chicken pot pie,” Grace announced. “There is one thing about it: It needs salt — I’m his salt!” But if you ask the couple how they would describe their relationship they would land on one word — quirky. In an icebreaker game among other couples, tasked with revealing a quirky anecdote, Nathan spoke of riding his bike to write about cows and Grace of her glowing blue eyeball after a glow stick assault. Their winning prize: a Harbor Freight LED flashlight that now rests in Nathan’s Truck. 

On Christmas Day 2024, Grace and Nathan trespassed at the clear waters of the old quarry in Rexmont, the place they swam and painted canvases along the shores. Nathan stored one of those canvases along the water’s edge early Christmas morning so when they hiked later in the day he’d drop to one knee and ask for her hand in marriage. 

Grace and Nathan look forward to a time where the drive home is zero, wedding planning is over, and no manager will kick them out. They look forward to a life together, the ups and downs – the roadwork of their hearts, the trespasses and forgiveness, and the sharing of seltzers on summer evening scenes. The two sous-chefs will tinker with their quirky recipe for a lifetime — a recipe they will debut on May 4th, 2025. May God head-chef.