By the time I reached the Feast of Tabernacles in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, in 2001, I had no intention of marrying again. My focus was on maintaining relationships with my three sons and keeping my life steady. Micah and I flew to Nashville, Tennessee, and drove to Gatlinburg for the Feast. Trish Allen, who was to become my third wife, and a friend had flown in two weeks earlier and had organized several singles activities, including beer tastings at a local brewery, dances, a picnic, tennis, and a formal evening dinner-dance event. Micah had his own schedule, which included a night at the aquarium where the children slept near the shark tanks.
The Feast was a good one. I met her there and noticed immediately that she was an excellent dancer, but seemed reluctant to dance with me. When we returned home, I went back to my small house on Palm Lane in Lake Jackson. Micah could walk over from his mother’s house when it was his time to visit.
Trish and I began dating soon after. She had been single for fifteen years and was in no hurry to marry again. We dated for fifteen months. During that time, I continued working for Dow and attending church in the South congregation in Houston, while she attended the North congregation. The two congregations were on opposite sides of Houston, but we made the distance work. I would sometimes stay with Bryan and Makenzi, who were living in The Woodlands, Texas.
One evening after I left Trish’s cabin, I drove to Bryan’s house, talking to her on the phone the entire way. I pulled into the driveway and sat there still talking to her. After a while, I got a knock on my car window. It was Bryan telling me I was sitting in his neighbor’s driveway.