Chase Scenes, Espionage, and the Son of Oden

Sometimes I imagine I’m in an action movie. Say, I’m driving down the freeway and I make eye contact with the driver of a flashy sports car. I imagine he speeds up to get away, and I gun it in pursuit, recognizing the infamous art thief, forgery master, or other white collar kingpin from his “most wanted” photo. Suddenly, ninjas swoop in from the bridge overhead and I have to decide whether to risk splitting the lane (and possibly damaging innocent bystanders’ cars) or jumping out of my car and going mano a mano. I take that option. I leap hood to hood until I somersault my way into the criminal’s getaway car and street fight my way to victory at the steering wheel, finishing the adventure with a slick e-break spin into the front parallel parking spot at the police station.

Next, imagine spy Mary leaves the station and heads for victory lunch. I get served a perfect meal, with all of my favorite foods cooked to perfection and served in the exact right order and temperature, without my ever having met the chef or made the order. I would start sniffing the sweet potatoes for traces of poison or checking my lemon water for a mysterious film or discoloration. This level of perfection is surely a trick of my subtle underground culinary enemies, trying to lure me into complacency, all the while plotting my destruction.

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Ok, so I’m not a total conspiracy theorist, nor do I submit to any real paranoia along these lines. I have no sincere aspirations to fight crime Mike Walberg style. But I actually do play out such scenes in my head sometimes, wondering what I would actually do if presented with one of these kinds of situations.

So maybe it's no surprise that when the leading man in my life died in such a theatric fashion (who ACTUALLY falls off a cliff?!), and my life felt more like something from the silver screen than reality, my mind went down lots of different roads. No, I guess ninja car chases weren’t exactly the primary scenes playing out in my head, or questionable spy meals, but I imagined scenes of my life in the future like the daddy-daughter dance at my daughter's wedding someday, or the father-son campouts where my son would pair up with a stranger, or the trips I'd take alone to foreign, romantic destinations intended for two, etc. etc. etc. I thought of stories of widows remarrying scam artists, frauds, perverts, and so on, and, at times, that was enough to keep me single for the long run. And yet, I also made screenplays in my head where a strapping, wonderful Brandon clone would approach

me in a tropical locale, and we'd ride off into a sunset. Anyway, the point is that my life felt like a movie and I sometimes obsessed over what the next scenes would bring. And since I already admitted my mild paranoid delusions and how they affect my imaginings, you can imagine how my suspicions were aroused when life put on my table, not a suspiciously perfect meal with all my favorite ingredients, but a seemingly perfect potential love interest, with all my favorite ingredients.

Enter Billy Oden. I mean, to start out with, his first name isn’t even a full name - no William or Bill, just Billy. And “Oden”? As in, “son of”? Does Thor have a non-psychotic handsome brother who happens to come with a flirty first name that is more of a nickname than a name? Doubtful...

And, oh wait, he’s a distant relative of my late husband, and Hawaiian, and someone I’ve known for years and who “happens” to be moving to San Diego at the exact same time as me? And he already loves my kids and is someone they trust and adore? And he’s an active member of my church in good standing?

Now I know my prayer phone is being tapped...

Ok, fine. So he’s all those basic things I was looking for, but does he, oh, I don’t know... like the same music as me, dance in public and private just because, quote scriptures (WITH references), have as strong an affinity for hammocks as me, reference the best movies, appreciate physical fitness, love nature, make funny jokes, laugh at my unfunny jokes, read good books, love hanging with old people, respect all people, keep tabs on world affairs, speak another language, look for adventures even in daily routine, write thank you notes to people he visits, sing beautifully, draw well, craft amazingly, use appropriate parenting techniques with my children, prioritize spiritual matters (scriptures, prayer, temple attendance, etc.) in life, love my late husband and insist on my keeping his pictures up on the wall, help clean my house, and cook well?

Yes?

Sounds too good to be true. It MUST be a trick? Right? No? Really? Huh...

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Seriously though, when this seemingly ideal man appeared in my life, I was amazed. Unfortunately, in time, I started thinking it really was too good to be true. We started to like each

other so much that we wondered whether we should break up or take some time apart to make sure the feelings were real. I went through a few days where I’d convinced myself to push him away and look to date other people, because my head told me that marrying the first guy I dated after my husband died might be wreckless and immature. It didn’t take long to realize that the only thing about the situation that was wreckless and immature was my doubting this relationship’s power and reality, based on how seamless and comfortable it felt. Shouldn't those be assurances, not grounds for doubt?

I felt like I was losing my mind. Being in love with a new person, while still being in love with the late person was (and is) a totally unfamiliar script. I felt as if the perfection of the

pairing was itself a weakness somehow, and I let other people's perceptions and reservations convince me that it was just my grief or just my desperation for someone ("anyone") to fill the void left by Brandon. How could I REALLY love someone this much, this soon, and this easily?

Seemed suspicious.

Like that perfect plate of food. I kept asking myself, where's the catch? Spy Mary was afraid of being fooled by her senses. She started to look for the trick, or the underlying danger in the food. But maybe it wasn’t there. Maybe she was given the meal, not as some trick, but just because the Chef really did know her that well and understood what she really needed - and wanted.

So maybe this unexpected dish, this “son of Oden” character, didn’t materialize in my life as a fluke or as a fantastic fabrication. Maybe those prayers I offered to find a suitable earthly companion for me and a righteous father for my children weren’t being tapped by some mischievous third party bent on tricking me into falling in love with the wrong man. Maybe those prayers landed exactly where they needed to, and He who is love itself mercifully presented this wonderful dream partner to me, not as a counterfeit courtship, but as the very real deal.

In my life, I’m pretty well versed in the high-intensity, paranoid, stressful action and drama scripts, but lately I've realized that sometimes cheesy Hallmark scripts actually make the cut in reality sometimes too.

I'm not as experienced at imagining romantic comedy chase scenes, but something tells me that the quirky, fun, romantic episodes that have been playing out in my life are not just my imagination.​

​ The superstitious side of me is afraid of putting that out there and is grasping for some wood to knock on, but the the faith-driven side of me is pushing me to accept this truth:

while romance, love, and comedy won't totally replace the drama and action scenes of life, for me, for now, I can safely and securely accept them as a very real part of the scenes now unfolding in my life.

Talk about a twist ending!