He didn’t want to write the letter. Writing that letter was the last thing he wanted to do. “I’m too busy,” was his lame excuse. “Its just a letter,” his friends kept insisting. “She’s wonderful,” they’d say. “She’s too far away,” he’d reply, imagining the worst of who she might be and what she might look like.

Finally, he gave in – he wrote something really romantic like, “they made me write this letter,” and then he slyly enclosed pictures of his children in the envelope before dropping it in the mailbox. He figured that would scare her away, and then he’d be off the hook. Boy was he wrong on that one.

She’d just received her Visa to go to Toronto and work in her medical field, when the letter arrived. “Alaska?” She had to look at a map to figure out where it was, and then she shuddered at the thought of what the weather might be like that far north of the equatorial climate to which she was accustomed. But, the pictures caught her eye . . . and her heart. She put the letter in a dresser drawer and took it out each night for a week and read it . . . and prayed. Then, she wrote back.

Letters became telephone calls . . . “I like your smile,” she said, “you mean laugh,” he corrected her English – truth was her “smile,” or laugh, had captured his heart long before he’d ever seen a picture. Calls became e-mails, then e-mails became instant messaging . . . then she finally sent a picture. After his heart restarted, he determined then and there that he needed to go to Colombia, very soon.

But, soon wasn’t to be . . . work and travel . . . two agonizing months . . . but also two wonderful months of simply talking, sharing thoughts and hearts. He still smiles every time he remembers sitting in his hotel room in Boston and trying to explain what a deposition was and why he was taking one of an epidemiologist. “You must be a wonderful liar,” she said in her best, yet somewhat broken English. “What?” he asked, thinking he must have misheard. She repeated it verbatim . . . and she sounded so happy about it. Thoroughly confused he tried again . . . same response. Then . . . it dawned on him . . . she was saying “lawyer” – heh, heh. He quickly taught her the word “attorney.”

They’d never met, yet they became fast friends. There was nothing they didn’t talk about. They invited their friends to pray along with them, they both wanted to be sure about what God might have planned. Friendship grew, and then became something more. And, then finally the day came. “You sure about this?” his buddy and Pastor, John Hunn, asked at lunch. He just smiled . . . “yeah.” “How sure?” John smiled back, “You taking a ring?” He just laughed.

When he arrived in Barranquilla that first time, he was a little apprehensive. Colombia has a bad reputation, not really deserved anymore, things have changed a lot from the past, but the rep was all he knew. Passed through immigration, collected his bags, walked out to the sidewalk – no one matching her picture. Deep breath. After 3-4 minutes, a young woman who flew in with him from Miami came over looking very concerned . . . “don’t take a taxi,” she warned. “Someone is coming,” he assured her.

And then, in the distance he saw a silhouette approaching out of the bright sunlight. Squinted . . . closer, more clear . . . definitely a woman . . . closer, clearer . . . “una muy hermosa senora” he breathed . . . he said a prayer, “Oh God, please let that be her.” She walked right up to him and put her hand in his, just like it had been made to fit there all along and was right at home. Three hours later he proposed . . . in Spanish . . . practiced 18 hours on the way there. She started crying . . . his heart dropped thinking he’d messed up the words . . . but, she let him know he hadn’t.

He gradually learned more Spanish. Like, how the word "we" means "you" in Spanish . . . she'd say "we need to clean the garage," and then he'd naively ask, "we?" . . . and then she'd point at him and say, "No, choo!" And the most important phrase of all . . . "Por favor perdóneme mi vida, yo no sé como yo podría haber ser tan estúpido" . . . please forgive me my darling, I don't know how I could have been so stupid.

Those moments still shine bright through all the years, through all the joys . . . and yes, even through the pain . . . the cancer . . . the loss. Yo te amaré por siempre Noru linda.

Happy Valentines Day to all of you! May God grant you much love and health.