I gripped the black steering wheel on my car tightly as I drove down I-95 towards Savannah.

The Fall semester at Duke was flying by. I was busy each day walking around Duke’s campus, leading my sophomore Bible study, and meeting with freshman girls. It was so fun getting to know each student.

I was wearing a peach skirt and a white scalloped top the first time I heard Grant’s voice over the phone.

My first few days getting settled in Durham, N.C. were busy. Mom and I had to find furniture for my apartment, unpack all of my stuff, and take care of all the little things that you have to do when you move to a new place.

It was a fun and special time because my mom lived in Chapel Hill as a college student when she attended the University of North Carolina, and then she lived in Durham after she married my dad while they were on staff with Campus Crusade at Duke. So, she had a lot of memories from that area and was able to show me around (at least the things that hadn’t changed in 20 or so years).

After a few days, the time was coming for her to head back home. I was excited about starting my new job, but also sad to see her go. It meant I would really be on my own.

One night, while we were unpacking some of my things in my new room, my computer made a notification noise. I had my laptop set up so that when I received emails on my personal account, it would alert me by making a noise and a little note would pop up on the screen telling me who the message was from.

My mom was sitting at my desk in front of my computer and I was hanging up clothes in the closet when the notification noise chimed.

“What’s that?” my mom asked.

“Oh, my computer is just alerting me that I received a message. There should be a little pop-up notification.”

My mom looked at the screen and then I heard her say, “GraceAnna, you just received a message from Grant Castleberry.”

“Really?” I felt my heart jump. I had completely put him out of my mind since the beach, and now I couldn’t believe his name was coming up again. I set down the hangers I was holding and came over to the computer screen.

I stared at the notification window for a moment. I’m sure it was nothing, why did I feel nervous?

“Well, aren’t you going to open up the message and read it?” my mom anxiously asked as I stood there.

“Yes, I will,” I replied calmly, pretending that I wasn’t as curious as I really was.

My mom got up and walked out of the room, sensing that I wanted to read it on my own.

I clicked on the email message that directed me to my Facebook page. As it loaded I wondered why Grant had suddenly written me. What in the world might he have written?

It seemed to take an eternity to get his message loaded up. When it finally loaded, I noticed that the subject line of his message was “Howdy.”

I thought that was an interesting way to say hello. I don’t think anyone had ever told me “howdy” before unless we were at a barn dance or something like that.

Of course, I didn’t know that was how Grant always greeted people and that it is the way that Aggies greet everyone – whether they know them or not.

I had a lot to learn about things like that.

It was August 5th, 2008.

GraceAnna,

You probably don’t remember me and were probably trying to figure out who I was when I sent you a “friend request.” My family came and visited the church years ago and we went out to eat afterwards. I still remember that your dad preached about false prophets. Kind of funny, at the time, for some reason, I thought that you were a whole lot younger than I was. I guess a year seemed a lot different back then…I’m amazed at your family’s legacy. Wow! By the looks of things you and your brothers have done some amazing things. That’s such an awesome testament to the type of parents yall have.

I came to your campus when Texas A&M played Clemson in ’05. I know, you don’t have to rub it in…but I want you to know, that we should have won that game. I guess it would have been your sophomore year. I loved your school though (the people were so friendly). I also think it’s cool how your older brother went to USC and then your younger is going to the Citadel. Needless to say, yall will have some awesome family reunions.

So your working for Campus Crusade now? What are your long-term plans? Have a great rest of the week, friend.

-Grant

His message made me smile and I loved how personal it was even though I didn’t know him at all. It meant a lot to me the way he commented on my family and didn’t just ask about me.I had received messages from guys before, and never once had they asked about my family.

And I couldn’t believe that he remembered what my dad preached about 6 years prior.

My thoughts wandered to the Texas A&M/Clemson game that he mentioned. I remembered the game well because my brother Grant attended the game with me and was cheering for A&M.

After the game, we went down on the field together and spoke with some ofthe members of Parson’s Mounted Calvary (I didn’t know the name of those guys at the time – I just knew they looked like old fashioned horsemen).

I had no idea that Grant Castleberry was at that game.

I was sitting there staring at the computer screen when my mom walked back in the room.

“So,” she asked casually, “What did he say?”

I got up from the computer and motioned for her to sit down and read it. I walked back over to the closet and continued hanging up my clothes.

She read it and then said, “Hmmm, soo, are you going to write him back?

“Yes, I guess so.” I replied coolly.

I glanced at my mom and couldn’t help but notice the slight smile on her face.

————————————-

The next evening, I sat down to write Grant back. I had waited an entire 24 hours to respond to his message. I didn’t want to seem too eager.

I typed out a response to every one his questions and I thanked him for his kind words. I read over my message several times. It sounded good, so I hit “send.”

“What are you up to?” My mom asked as she walked into my room.

“ I just wrote Grant back.”

“Oh, what did you say?”

“I just answered all of his questions and thanked him for writing me.”

“That’s all.Did you ask him anything?”

“No, I didn’t. Is that bad?”

“Well, no it’s not bad, but he probably won’t write you back because he’ll assume that you want to end the conversation.”

I knew my mom was right. I had been so careful in my response. It was something that I had become good at in the past few years – being really careful.

There were two reasons for this. First, I never wanted a guy to feel like I was chasing him. Secondly, it was a protective mechanism. I was afraid to get hurt.

I had been hurt before and now I was afraid to put myself out there. I was afraid to let that happen again.

But this was ridiculous, why would I not ask him a single question? I couldn’t deny that I was interested. I wanted to know more about Grant.

So I sat back down and quickly sent a follow-up message. I asked some random question about campus ministries at Texas A&M.

It wasn’t a question I needed the answer to, but I was leaving that door open, just in case he decided to write back.

Just as I was getting up out of my chair, I heard the notification noise on my laptop.

I sat back down. He couldn’t have written me back already?

He had.

He answered my question and asked me a few more.

This time I was bold, instead of waiting 24 hours, I decided to go ahead and write him back right then.

———————-

The next day, my mom and I ate lunch together before she left to go back to Beaufort. We sat across the table at California Pizza Kitchen.

We had had such a fun time together the past few days.

When I had first arrived in Durham, I hadn’t felt ready to have her leave. Now I felt settled. I knew I would be okay.

We talked about the next few weeks and the things I would be doing.

Then, my mom said with a smile on her face, “Well, it will be interesting to see how this whole “Grant Castleberry thing” turns out.”

“Mom, I can’t believe you are saying that!” I said completely serious. “We’ve sent a FEW messages to each other. That is ALL. It’s not like we are getting married!”

My mom just smiled.

To be continued…

Our vacation at the beach ended, and about a week later, I was loading up my car to make my move to N.C.

I hadn’t heard anything from Grant Castleberry since the day he had added me on Facebook and I had stopped thinking about him. I had so much on my mind as I prepared to move to Duke and I figured that since he hadn’t sent me a message, his “adding me” was just a random thing and that I would never hear from him again.

I packed every nook and cranny of my car, filling it with most of my belongings. This felt like the biggest move of my life so far.

When I went to Clemson, it seemed like a big move at the time, but I realized later that college is more like a transitional phase than a final move from home. I still had my bedroom at home that I would come back to on holiday weekends and summer breaks.

But now, all of that was about to change. This felt different. I was leaving home for good. I wasn’t going back to college. I was going to start a new job in a new state. This was a new phase in my life. And I would probably never move back home.

My brother Jameson helped me load up my car.

“Wow, you are packing a lot of clothes,” Jameson commented at least three times. “Well, Jameson, I have to pack everything and I just don’t know what I’ll need. And N.C. gets a lot colder than S.C. so I need every coat and sweater.” Yes, I am a true southern girl.

When we had shoved the last possible thing in that we could, it was time to go.

My mom was making the trip up to N.C. with me in her car to help transport my things and to stay a few days to get me settled in.

Jameson and my dad gathered with us in the driveway before we took off. It was overcast that day and we stood in a circle as my dad led us in a prayer before we left.

Praying before trips is something that we’ve always done in our family.

I stared down at the oyster shells underneath my feet as I listened to my dad’s voice.

This was more emotional than I thought it was going to be, and unexpectedly, I felt tears well up in my eyes.

I didn’t feel like a “grown” woman moving away. I suddenly felt like a five-year-old little girl. What was I doing leaving home? How would I live on my own? Could I really do this?

My dad’s words brought comfort as he prayed for the Lord to keep us safe on our drive to N.C. He prayed for my future ministry at Duke and that God would use me and bless my time there.

Then he prayed for something I didn’t expect him to pray for at all.

“Lord, we pray if it be your will, you would bring GraceAnna a husband very soon. I pray that he would a be a man after your own heart.”

I didn’t know it at the time, but this wasn’t the first prayer my dad or my mom had offered up for my future husband. I was later to learn that they had been earnestly praying that entire summer, on their knees, for God to bring someone into my life.

I think they knew that I wasn’t by nature the “independent” type. I grew up with a protective father and I was sandwiched between four brothers, so I had always felt and been well taken care of.

And while I was still under my father’s protection as I moved to Duke, I was, in a sense, stepping out on my own. I know that they didn’t want it to always be like that for me.

I was 13 years old the first time I ever prayed for my “future husband.” I was hanging out with a girl who was at least 5 years older than I was.

The last thing that was crossing my mind at this young age was a husband.

Obviously, it wasn’t the last thing that this older teenage girl was thinking about.

“GraceAnna,” she asked out of the blue, “have you ever prayed for your future husband?”

Oh no! I remember thinking. Is that something I should be doing?

I didn’t want to tell her that I hadn’t, and not only had I never prayed for my future husband, I had never even thought about him. Ever.

“Well, umm, not exactly,” I finally answered.

“Well, I think it would be a good idea if you did.” I remember her saying.

I thought she was so old and so wise. So I vowed to pray for my “future husband” later that day.

I don’t remember exactly what I prayed, but I remember feeling a relief afterwards that I’d prayed for him and now I could get back to being a 13-year-old.

Even though it makes me laugh when I think about it now, I do think that God used that conversation in my life to plant a seed in my heart for the future.

It wasn’t until years later in college, that I actually started praying for my “future husband.”

I joined a Bible Study my freshman year and one of my leaders shared that she wrote out prayers to God for her future husband.

I remember that evening feeling like I did that day when I was 13 years old. It had never crossed my mind to write out a prayer letter for a man that may or may not possibly be in my life one day.

I went up to my dorm room later that night and pulled out a blank sheet of notebook paper.

I remember feeling kind of ridiculous as I started to write. But nevertheless, I wrote out a prayer for my future husband.

I prayed that whoever he was and wherever he was that he would be sold out to Christ. I prayed that he would keep his heart and his mind pure. I prayed that he would wait for me.

Off and on throughout college I would write similar prayer letters for my husband.

The funny thing is, that summer after graduating from college, I hadn’t really been praying for my “future husband” at all. I had come to a place of enjoying my relationship with the Lord and trusting in His will for me, whatever that might be.

I had read a book that year called, Did I Kiss Marriage Good-bye? And after reading it, I started wondering if God might want me to be single for a while. I didn’t want to spend my days pining after a life that He hadn’t given me and that might not be His plan for me.

Maybe there wasn’t a “future husband” out there for me at all. Maybe God had something completely different in store for me.

I wanted to follow the Lord regardless of whether or not His plans matched up with my dreams.

I wanted to love God for who He was, not for what He could give to me. I didn’t know how to do that, so I just started praying for God to help me be content in His will instead of praying for him to bring a guy into my life.

So, when my dad prayed those words, it took me by surprise. It felt good to hear him pray for my future, because I realized that I did still want to get married. And I remembered all those college prayer letters and that immature, yet heartfelt 13-year-old prayer.

My dad said, “Amen” and after exchanging hugs and tears, I got in my car and pulled out of the drive.

I stared in the rearview mirror as I watched my dad and Jameson get smaller and then our yard disappear in the distance.

Well, I thought. This is it. I’m leaving Beaufort for good.

To be continued…

“Well, GraceAnna, I’ll tell you what I know,” my mom began.

We had gone for a walk down the beach, just the two of us. It’s something we’d been doing every summer for the past eight or so years since our family had been vacationing at Fripp Island.

The specific subject matter of our conversations would change with each passing summer, but the nature of our walks remained the same: mother and daughter time.

We had already walked down to one end of the beach and we were on our return trip and I had just asked her what she knew about Grant Castleberry.

I stared out at the limitless ocean, squinting my eyes as I listened to her words.

“I know that his mom and dad used to live in Beaufort back in the mid-eighties. His dad’s name was Kelly and his mom’s name is Susan. They were involved with the start of Community Bible Church. Kelly was a pilot in the Marine Corps. I don’t remember how exactly, but I know that the jet that he was flying one day was involved in a terrible crash just off the coast of Georgia, and they never found his body.”

I was taken completely aback by the story. “Wow, are you serious? How old was he?”

“In his mid-twenties I believe. I know that Grant was young, maybe two or three years old. After Kelly’s death, he and his mom moved back to Texas. His death impacted a lot of people.”

“I’m sure.”

“When we moved here, I remember a few people telling me the story. In fact, our church’s radio station was dedicated in memory of Kelly, because he spent the final years of his life investing in the ministry of CBC.”

I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. I was trying to process it all – a husband and a father dying at such a young age. I couldn’t imagine anything more tragic.

We waded through a tide pool as my mom spoke. When she mentioned the radio station, I suddenly remembered something.

A photograph.

When I was growing up, my brothers and I would often go with my dad to our church’s radio station. He would host a program each week that he called “The Bible Line.” People would call in from all over Beaufort County and ask him questions about the Bible.

He still holds the weekly program, and people still call in from all over.

While he was in the studio “On Air,” my brothers and I would sit quietly in the room next door and read or do schoolwork.

Eventually, I would get bored and analyze every crack and cranny in the room. I would stare at the tile in the ceiling or at the pattern on the carpet.

I remember one day getting up from the sofa and walking over to a bookshelf that was on one side of the room. There was a picture frame there. The photograph was of a man and a woman and a blonde headed little boy about two years old.

The man was dressed in a pilot’s uniform and was holding the little boy. All three of them were standing next to a fighter jet. I stared at the photograph just like I had stared at everything else in the room.

Next to the picture frame was a little model jet. It was just like one of the jets that are on display outside the gate of the Beaufort Marine Corps Air Station.

The couple looked young and happy in the photograph. Never once did it occur to me that the man in that picture might not even be alive.

At the time, I wondered who they were.

Now, years later, I finally knew.

I couldn’t believe that I had somehow missed the story all these years.

My mom continued, “Do you remember, maybe 5 or 6 years ago, when Grant and his mom and his step-father came and visited CBC? We went out to lunch with them after church. They were in town visiting Kelly’s memorial marker that is in the Beaufort National Cemetery.”

“Yes, I do remember that.” The lunch was something that I had completely forgotten about before now. Because I grew up in a pastor’s family, eating lunch after church with people was a weekly routine.

It was hard to keep track of all the lunches and all the missionary kids that we ate with after church.

But after my mom mentioned it, I realized that I did remember that day and meeting Grant. He stuck out to me because I have a brother named Grant and I had never met anyone else by that name. At the time, I didn’t know what his last name was.

I was 16 years old and very much consumed with my “busy” teenage life. I sat at the table with the adults while my brothers sat at another table with Grant.

I remember watching Grant get up and walk across the restaurant to refill his drink. He was tall and lanky and he wore cowboy boots, khakis, and a button-up starched maroon shirt.

I’m not really sure why I remember that. He just looked different. Definitely like something straight out of Texas.

I also remember that he didn’t say much to me besides hello.

That was all right with me. I had other “important” 16-year-old things to worry about.

And that was that. That was my whole encounter with Grant Castleberry from Texas.

I didn’t know that his trip to Beaufort that weekend was extremely important to him. I didn’t know that it was the first time he was visiting his father’s memorial marker since he was three years old. I didn’t know that the 17 year old boy that I watched walk across the restaurant to refill his drink was profoundly impacted by his father’s death. I didn’t know that Beaufort held a very dear and special place in his heart. I didn’t know that he had a rock solid faith even at that young age. I didn’t know that he already wanted to be a pastor.

And I definitely didn’t know that he thought I was cute but was afraid to talk to me because “Dr. Broggi” was present.

Oh, there was just so much I didn’t know.

“It was so great to meet their family that day,” my mom’s voice broke through my thoughts. “We had only ever seen Grant in pictures, so it was special to meet Kelly’s son and see what a fine, Christian young man he had become.”

We were almost back at the villa now and I saw my dad and some of my brothers walking out to meet us.

I was still processing it all.

I didn’t realize that this was just the beginning. There was so much more I didn’t know that I was about to find out.

Later that day, I laced up my running shoes for an afternoon run on the beach. I started out going against the wind, so that my return run back to the beach villa wouldn’t be so hard.

As I ran, I started thinking about the past year and all the things that had led me to move to N.C. to work for Campus Crusade for Christ at Duke that Fall.

My plan when I went to college was much like most non-feminist, southern girls. I hoped to meet a husband in college, and get married when I graduated.

I was not only raised to believe, but fully embrace myself, that there is no higher calling for a woman than to fulfill the feminine and God-given roles of wife and mother.

I know that’s not really popular to say. It certainly isn’t popular to tell your professor while you are in college that you are studying in their class because you hope to use what you are learning so that you can be a good wife and mom one day.

Certainly that couldn’t be ALL that one would aspire to do? Everyone knows that being a wife and mom is important, but not THAT important. And where’s the personal fulfillment in spending your time helping a man and changing diapers day in and day out? Surely, we are a more educated generation now. You should use your education for a higher calling.

Now of course, not every woman ends up being a wife and a mom. That’s not God’s plan for every woman. But there are plenty of single women that I know that exercise these godly traits (a supportive/mothering heart) even though they aren’t married. They pour into the lives of children and families around them, and wholeheartedly embrace their femininity in the realms that God has called them to work and serve. And they are amazing.

And that’s what I wanted to do. I wanted to be as educated as I possibly could be to be a wife and a mother. And if I didn’t get married or have children, I wanted to be able to support myself financially after college and be able to invest in the lives of those around me.

So, I chose Early Childhood Education as my major. There was a huge part of me that wanted to be an English major because I loved all my English courses in high school and I didn’t consider myself to be very “crafty.” Creating and decorating bulletin boards is just not my thing. Decorating and constructing crafts is what I often thought of when I thought of Early Childhood Education. But that’s not what it is at all. Though I did decorate a few bulletin boards before graduating. To my surprise, I kind of enjoyed it.

But I loved children. And I couldn’t think of a better way to invest my father’s money than to learn how they develop and grow. Surely that type of education would last a lifetime.

By the time I reached my senior year at Clemson, I was so glad I had chosen to study Education. I adored my class of five year olds that I taught my last semester of college. I can still hear their voices that would exclaim in the most southern of accents, “We love you Miss Broggi!”

I also began to realize as graduation approached, that getting married anytime soon was nowhere on my horizon. It wasn’t that there weren’t great Christian guys at Clemson, there were. Just nothing had worked out.

I can remember those early morning drives to school in the dawn light. My roommate and I were memorizing the book of Philippians together that year and I would recite it aloud on my drives to school.

I felt God’s presence in a new way on those drives. He used His word to draw me closer to Him.

One day, on my way home from school, it dawned on me that I was completely content in my relationship with the Lord. And what I mean by that, was that I realized I didn’t need a boyfriend, a fiancé, or a husband to complete me. The Lord was enough.

I didn’t know what my life would be like later on. I wasn’t presuming that I would always feel that way. I still wanted to get married, but I just knew that at that moment, He was enough. And that He promised that He always would be enough, no matter what.

I also realized that marriage and children are blessings – they aren’t guaranteed, and can never “complete” any woman on the deepest level. Only God can complete and fulfill the deepest longings of a woman’s heart.

Easy to say and yet difficult to live, but I understood it and I honestly felt that completion in the Lord. I was amazed that I could genuinely feel that way emotionally, not just intellectually. I knew that was something God was doing in me. I would never be at that point on my own.

It was during that time that I decided that working for Campus Crusade for Christ (now called Cru) would be the best way to invest my time as a single woman. I was really involved with the organization during my time in college. I loved leading a Bible study. It was one of the highlights of my time those four years.

While I wanted to teach, I knew that teaching would always be there for me. God had given me a heart for ministry, and I felt Him tugging at my heart to invest some time fully devoted to it. I couldn’t escape that pull.

I watched as God opened up the door for me to go to Duke. I decided that I would work there for a year, and then reevaluate whether or not to teach children or continue in ministry.

So, I came home that summer to raise support, since Cru is a non-profit organization. Asking people to invest financially in what I was doing was harder for me than I thought it would be. I realized I was stepping out on my own.

But God was faithful. I raised all my support fairly quickly and now I was spending a few days at the beach with my family before I made the big move to N.C.

I was thinking about these things on my run that day. It didn’t seem to take too long before I reached the rock jetty at the end of the beach. I turned around and felt the wind pushing me along instead of working against me. I picked up my pace as my run became easier.

I couldn’t believe I was done with college. I couldn’t believe I wasn’t even dating anyone. But I wasn’t sad about it. I was so excited about what God had in store for me.

My thoughts wandered back to Grant Castleberry.

That was an interesting last name – Castleberry. I’d never heard of that last name before. I liked the way it sounded.

Why did he add me on Facebook? I mean, did he suddenly think of me for some reason?

Wait, what am I doing? Why am I thinking about him again? I literally remember laughing aloud on my run.

Grant was not the first male human being to add me as a friend on Facebook. I never thought twice about something like this before. What was my problem?

It’s Facebook, come on! Not even the “real” world! And seriously, he hadn’t even sent me a message. All he had done was add me. If he had wanted to talk to me, he would have said something. For all I know, he clicked on my name by accident.

I decided that I would ask my mom to tell me the story of his family when I got back. It all seemed so random that I concluded that there must be more that I didn’t know.

I sped up again, turning up the volume on my iPod to drown out my own ridiculous thoughts.