Thinking about all the moments, friendships, choices, and stars that had to align in order for Price Murphree to knock on the front door of my college apartment can bring tears to my eyes. It makes me ache to hug Jesus and cry endless thank you’s for what he’s given me in a soulmate. Really, Price is the story that makes all other stories of mine make sense, to see how they tied together to form something so stunning as ours.
Something Price says so often in response to me asking him how his day went is “Well...it all started when I woke up.” And so I suppose it would only be fitting to begin our story the same way.
It all began when I woke up to this life twenty-two years ago. And by the time my mom held me for the first time in a tiny hospital room in Little Rock, Arkansas, Price already was walking, talking, laughing, and playing just under two hours away in his cozy hometown of Camden - the “Queen City,” as he calls it. Little Price was just weeks from his fourth birthday, and he would live more than twenty more years from that September day without ever saying a word to me, without me even knowing his name. While I wish for those twenty years with him, I love thinking about our lives, designed for one another, growing on their lonesome, preparing for each other...apart, yet so very close.
So many stories God has written have sentences that run together, that foreshadow the next, that tie into another hundreds of pages down the road. For Price’s and my story, I find it so important to note every single sentence, including the lives of grandparents and greats. Years and years and years ago, Luther Stuckey grew up in a humble home in Prattsville, Arkansas, just down the road from my father’s childhood. Later, Luther married a lady named Lovey, and it was their daughter who married one Tom Murphree, grandfather to my Price. And just down that Prattsville road some slow decades later, Don and Deronda Goodman brought their son and my dad David home from the hospital to a small brick parsonage tucked to the side of Sweet Home Missionary Baptist Church, where my papaw has preached God’s love for well over fifty years. For a town so tiny, so quaint, and so homely, neither Price’s or my life would be anything but a thought if not for those dirt roads and green pastures.
Years later, both Price’s parents - Mike and Grace Murphree - made the life-altering decision to attend Ouachita Baptist University, where they met and fell in love - a crucial turn in Price’s story. While a student there, the Goodmans and Murphrees actually crossed paths, funny enough. My uncle Tim had classes with and even was called a friend by Mrs. Grace.
During Price’s and my childhood, I have to mention the very likely chance that we crossed paths or even just sat in the same room, as both of us swam in our hometown’s summer league, occasionally competing in the same end-of-year meet - SASA. Located in Ouachita’s facilities, I can only imagine how many times I sat rows behind him in the bullpen, donned in a blue and white swimsuit and my bright yellow swim cap, awaiting my 50-yard freestyle. Or how many times my mom’s hand patted his shoulder, as she was in charge of lining the swimmers up on the deck, which he had to have dove off of many a times. Of course, I swam competitively year round for 12 years, far past our SASA days because I was significantly faster than Price ;) but I like to think I may have laid eyes on a Speedo clad Price Murphree before I was even ten years old.
As the tiny, unrelated sentences to our story begin to make themselves clear, my Price makes the decision to attend college and play golf for Henderson State University in 2013, the university across the street from mine. Quickly, he moves into the apartments just one block away from my childhood home, just steps away from the house some of my friends from the varsity soccer team lived in. Many nights, I would find myself using the parking lot of Price’s home to turn back around after dropping them off after a sweaty practice at the field. And who knows, maybe Price was locking his door, turning to go to his car as I pulled in? Maybe he noticed my car, the dark-haired girl inside, throwing stinky goalie gloves out of my window? At the time, I was a freshman in high school, playing my bass drum in the bus parking lot every morning before school and staining my car seat with chlorine after my swim practices at night. I had other emotional boy sagas inhabiting my every thoughts, and now, I love to think about the idea that even while I laid in my bed, crying over a boy of the past, Price was a three-minute walk away. And there was no way of knowing that. That the man my heart was truly and unknowingly aching for was just down the block.
Isn’t that something to adore about God? That he writes our stories like that. It gives me chills.
A very important detail to our story was when Sarah Grace - the youngest of Price’s siblings - met and befriended a girl from Searcy, Arkansas named Keleigh Shands at a summer camp. And in the spring of 2016, the admissions counselors at Ouachita sat in their conference room and decided Keleigh would be my freshman year suitemate. Quickly, Keleigh became one of my dearest friends, sharing life and stories of childhood for the next four years of college together. Sarah Grace became a known name in my life because of Keleigh, leading to my meeting my father-in-law for the very first time before I even knew Price existed and years before I even would.
For the first two years of college, I worked at KelZek Fine Jewelry and Gifts, where I came to know and love my boss Kelli Lancaster as my “grown best friend.” One afternoon in the fall of my freshman year, one of her high school best friends - Mike Murphree, father of Price - walked through the door to shop for his wife and daughters. Once I realized who it was, I vividly remember standing over the watch case and mentioning to him that I lived with Keleigh, his daughter’s good friend. And while I went to the back for a moment before he left, Mr. Mike joked to Kelli that they needed to find a girl like me for his son.
Just weeks later, I pulled my very first college all-nighter, surrounded by my now bridesmaids. It was Battle of the Ravine weekend, the weekend where Henderson and Ouachita battle it out on the football field and years of rivalry are practiced through childish pranks, hence my night spent “guarding” our white statue of a tiger. I remember taking a nap before my friends planned on heading out to the middle of campus, blankets and chargers in tow. I almost decided to not go, as it really seemed so unnecessary and my bed was so warm. Still, the thought of meeting friends pushed me to the tent we’d spend the night talking and laughing in. When five in the morning rolled around, I found myself climbing the steps of Henderson’s bleachers, finding my seat for the traditional early morning pep rally. Keleigh walked ahead of me, and just a few rows above us, she was recognized by none other than Price Murphree, a disgruntled senior golfer, forced by the athletic department to attend this morning festivity. And even though his first instinct was to sink further back into his hoodie, he says I caught his eye and the first thing that ran through his mind was that “one day, I want to know her.”
And just to add to the story, that night, I travelled to Camden to watch a friend’s brother play football - and Price went home for the weekend. Just minutes away from the love of my life, but still, we had years to go.
However, from that morning on, Price knew my name. He had found me on Keleigh’s social media accounts, and he now knew just a little about me, at least. He then graduated college, moved home, and worked on receiving his master’s degree all while pursuing professional golf. And during that time, I began my work at Ouachita - pledging EEE (and joining the same family group as one of his cousins), starting my leadership in the Ouachita Student Foundation, dating and learning from past trainwreck relationships, making friends, applying for internships and golden retriever waiting lists.
See how intricate this is? How many times God almost gave him to me, but I missed him by just a few steps? Just a few glances at the wrong face in the crowd? It feels like an old romance book, where the reader knows what’s coming, but the characters could never guess.
When the second semester of my junior year rolled around, I was frustrated. I was awfully terrified of what life would look like post-grad, and it didn’t help that I didn’t have a good job to occupy my mind during a summer spent sitting at home. I had been hired by the university to go interview alumni with the hopes of gathering insight on how Ouachita is doing. While the job was entirely up my alley - I love talking and hearing stories - I wasn’t as busy as I needed to be, and that on top of my existential dread of graduating college, growing up, and losing my community threw me into a slight seasonal depression, I will admit.
However, at the beginning of June, I got to a name on my list of potential alumni interviews that I recognized: Mike and Grace Murphree of Camden, Arkansas. My neighbor/supervisor/precious family friend, Carrie Roberson, was so excited for me to interview them, as Mrs. Grace was her EEE president when she pledged. I reached out and got the interview scheduled for June 12.
I can only imagine Jesus sitting on his throne, smiling, watching, knowing what was so near to happening. Something that had been in the works far longer than even I.
Meanwhile, my student interviewer card had been mailed to their home. The card had my yearbook photo from the year before on one side, along with my name, hometown, and major. Ouachita sent it out so they would know who to expect at their door, unaware it would actually act to provide a spark of recognition when Price saw it laying on his kitchen counter.
And on the Wednesday morning of June 12, I woke up for my ten o’clock interview with Mr. Mike and Mrs. Grace. I wore linen shorts and cheetah print loafers with my hair half-up in a clip. I remember carrying my black leather Ouachita folder with their interview sheet and my notepad tucked inside, my keys tucked into a summer purse I’d bought myself from Kelli. That morning, I didn’t want to listen to music on the hour-long drive, and for whatever reason, I found myself scrolling months back through my texts from my roommate Kyla to find a podcast I remembered her sending me. Both of us had gone through break-ups within the same month-long period at the beginning of the year, and just a few weeks after, she had sent me this podcast by a girl named Mia Fieldes, begging me to listen to it. Sadly, I never did until months later on that drive to Camden. It spoke on how our life is custom made by the Father, love stories and all. Once I arrived in Camden, I had to drive a few circles before pulling into the Murphree’s home, wiping away tears from the truth spoken through that episode.
And I remember pulling into their circle drive, admiring their home, their landscaping, wondering where to park. There was a Volkswagen (his car) parked to the side, so I found a spot for mine a few feet away from it, taking a second to reapply my lipstick in my mirror. Then I made my way up the steps of Price’s home and knocked on his door.
And still, I didn’t even know his name.
My interview with the Murphrees lasted nearly three hours, just sitting around their kitchen table and listening to their stories of Ouachita, often so similar to my own. At one point, I had convinced myself that this “Price” or “P” they kept mentioning was their married son. And truthfully, I found myself disappointed because I so enjoyed my time sitting in their home. However, during the interview, Price came and went, never seen but heard thanks to the alert of their french bulldog named Phinn. And by the end, I was hopeful that perhaps he was single. Still, I hadn’t laid my eyes on even a picture of him and hadn’t heard even just a word of his voice.
I drove away that day thinking what a story that would have been if I’d met their son and fallen in love. I blame that thought process on the podcast. And now, I can’t believe how close I was to the reveal of J’s beautiful story for Price’s and my life...I was just sitting in the middle of it, clueless.
For the next few weeks, our story’s get closer and closer to joining. I write a blog about the podcast, because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And Price claims to have laid awake on the floor of his bedroom, composing a message he intended to send to me but never did, because he couldn’t stop thinking about me. (If only I had known! Meanwhile, I was binge watching broadway satires and finding myself on Henderson’s campus often, crying because I didn’t want it to be renamed A-State?) He considered a handwritten letter, an email, a direct message on Instagram, perhaps a text? But he didn’t know how to get my number. Or if a letter in my mailbox would be too odd. Eventually, Price shared this story with Sarah Grace, his younger sister who is friends with Keleigh, one of my college roommates and friends. He sends one of my Instagram photos, noting to her that he thinks he “will marry her soon.”
September rolls around, and Price will tell me that during those summer months, he liked to find ways to even just say my name, to bring me into conversations. He said he would mention how much his mom enjoyed her interview with me as often as he could, just to keep the conversation going. And then finally, the beginning of contact is made on the night of September 1, 2019.
It was a Sunday night, and I was studying for one of my first tests of senior year. I get a text from Keleigh, claiming she knew of someone who had a crush on me. Of course, I didn’t take this very seriously, because all who know Keleigh knows that sometimes texts like that shouldn’t be. However, after much prodding, she gave me the information that would change my life: she had spent the weekend with childhood friends at the Razorback game, including one Sarah Grace Murphree, who had informed Keleigh that her brother had a crush on me. Keleigh was asking if she could send my phone number to him. I remember frantically searching anyone’s social media profile, trying to find a recent photo of Price since his accounts weren’t public. That night, I bit my tongue, said yes, and requested to follow him.
When I woke up, I really expected a message from him. I didn’t know how this worked?! Of the boys I’d had “relationships” with, I met them in person. I just assumed that if I made the first move - no matter how miniscule, he would respond immediately. Sadly enough, this was not true, and it would be nearly two more months without each other.
Immediately, I visited Kelli at the jewelry store, filling her in about Price and the potential of a date in the future. As any best friend would, she messaged his dad, informing him that I would indeed go on a date if asked. From that conversation, I learned that Price was packing up to leave for Belgium just a few days after that, where he would compete in a qualifying school for the European Golf Tour. As my life plummeted into Tiger Tunes season, I really accepted that situation as one of the past, something that would never happen. I kept up with his social media while in Europe, admiring how handsome he looked and how funny he sounded. And while I would send his pictures to my roommate, wishing something had come out of that fleeting potential love story, I moved on from the hypothetical. Of course, I had no way of connecting all of these dots yet, because I really had just learned of him!
And then the weekend of October 11 arrived. I was in the car with Keleigh and three other college girlfriends on the way to a bachelorette party in New Orleans. Keleigh asked if I’d heard from Price yet, and I slumped into my chair and laughed, filling her in on the absolute nothingness of where that story had gone.
And I’m telling you. Not five minutes go by, and this notification arrives on my screen, informing me that Price Murphree has sent me a message.
Addy,
I’ve been wanting to say something to you for awhile - but wasn’t sure how or when to do this. Did you know that you came to my house in Camden in June? Since then, I’ve been trying to figure out who Addy Goodman is. I finally thought it was time to come straight to the source.
I’ve been in Europe for a few weeks but should be back in Arkansas next week. I don’t know if you’d be interested, but maybe we can talk/meet soon?
Exactly one week later, I came home from class and spent a few nervous hours perched in front of our hall mirror, curling my hair and meticulously applying my Bobbi Brown makeup (bought to match Kate Middleton, who else?). I chose a pair of jeans with my favorite square-neck polka dot blouse and those very same cheetah print loafers from my summer interview to his house. I waited in my roommate’s room until I heard the knock, absolutely sick to my stomach with nerves.
Five taps on the door later, and finally, we’d found each other. And one year from that very day, he asked me to be his wife 🤍
And here are some of our engagement photos that we will treasure forever and ever! Jesus has been so precious to us.
Xo. A
ความคิดเห็น