The Day Friendship Found Its Name
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”
— Proverbs 3:5–6 (NIV)
Some moments change your life because of what happens.
Others change your life because they finally explain what has been happening all along.
December 26, 2009, was one of those days.
Christmas was over.
The wrapping paper had been thrown away.
The leftovers were packed into containers.
The pace of the holiday had begun to slow.
Nicole and I were preparing to begin our church’s annual fast, a tradition that marked the end of one year and the anticipation of another. For several weeks, our focus would shift toward prayer, Scripture, and seeking God’s direction before stepping into what He had prepared next.
Outside, Brooklyn was wrapped in fresh snow.
Inside, something had shifted in me.
Not because Oji had said anything new.
Because I had begun to understand what he had been saying all along.
For months, our friendship had followed a rhythm that neither of us seemed eager to rush.
We spoke nearly every day.
Most conversations happened during his lunch break.
Sometimes we studied Scripture.
Sometimes we talked about leadership.
Sometimes we laughed until one of us had to get back to work.
We talked about books.
Purpose.
Family.
Dreams.
Life.
What we didn’t spend much time talking about…
…was romance.
That wasn’t because there wasn’t an attraction.
There was.
It simply wasn’t the foundation we were trying to build.
Looking back, I realize we were becoming emotionally and spiritually intimate long before we ever considered physical intimacy.
Our friendship had become a place where both of us could simply be ourselves.
Still…
There was something different about us.
I had been in relationships before.
Long ones.
Relationships where I spent years wondering what the other person was thinking.
Wondering where I stood.
Wondering whether words and actions would ever tell the same story.
This wasn’t like that.
There was no confusion.
Only consistency.
The more I thought about it, the more one phrase kept returning to my mind.
Old-school courtship.
It seemed almost too old-fashioned to say out loud.
But it fit.
Finally, I stopped replaying the question in my head.
I picked up my phone.
Me:
“Why do I feel like I’m being old-school courted?”
His reply came almost immediately.
Oji:
“You are.”
A moment later…
“Do you have a problem with that?”
I laughed.
Of course that was his answer.
No dramatic speech.
No overthinking.
No unnecessary words.
Just enough to answer the question.
I texted him back.
“I guess I’m just a round-the-way girl.”
If you grew up in Brooklyn during the ’90s, you probably smiled at the reference.
His mother’s apartment was less than ten minutes from the building where I had spent much of my childhood.
Life has a way of bringing people full circle.
Long before either of us imagined a future together, our stories had already begun unfolding in the same neighborhood.
Looking back, I understand something I couldn’t have understood then.
I wasn’t asking permission to fall in love.
I was asking for clarity.
That may sound like a small distinction.
For me, it has always been a way of living.
I’ve never liked making assumptions, especially when my decisions affect someone else.
Whether it’s ministry, work, family, or relationships, I’ve always wanted to understand where I stand before taking the next step.
Intentionality requires clarity.
Without clarity, even our best intentions can become confusion.
With clarity comes peace.
That little text message didn’t create our relationship.
It simply gave language to what was already growing.
As the new year unfolded, life continued changing for both of us.
I was settling into my new role at Visiting Nurse Service of New York, learning responsibilities that didn’t yet have a blueprint.
Oji was finishing another successful season at Hudson Valley Community College while quietly considering an opportunity that could reshape his coaching career.
Professional football.
The United Football League.
I had never heard of it.
He had spent years preparing for opportunities like this.
He shared his thoughts with me long before any decision had been made.
I never saw that conversation as asking for permission.
I saw it as trust.
And I encouraged him to pursue what God was placing before him.
Because that’s what you do when you believe in someone’s calling.
One of the greatest gifts of our courtship was what we intentionally chose not to rush.
Both of us had experienced long-term relationships.
Both of us had made mistakes.
Both of us wanted something different.
Oji shared something with me that I have never forgotten.
He had prayed that his next relationship would be with the woman he would marry.
He wanted to honor God from the very beginning.
So did I.
Together, we made a decision.
We would build our relationship as though we had never done this before.
Not because either of us had lived perfect lives.
But because grace gives us the opportunity to begin again.
That meant guarding our physical boundaries.
It meant choosing conversation over chemistry.
It meant learning each other’s convictions before learning each other’s habits.
Looking back, I believe that decision became one of the strongest foundations of our marriage.
Years later, people sometimes ask me what made Oji different.
They expect me to talk about football.
Or romance.
Or grand gestures.
Instead…
I tell them about one text message.
Three simple words.
“You are.”
Everything that followed simply proved he meant them.
Continue the Journey
Found in the Margins is an ongoing memoir series by Lela Jefferson Fagan, chronicling the unexpected ways God writes our stories through faith, family, purpose, and the moments that often seem insignificant until we look back.
Read the series on:
Next in the Series…
Found in the Margins: Part Nine
He Treated Me Like a Lady
Some love stories are remembered because of grand gestures.
Ours was built through countless small ones.
© 2026, Lela Fagan. All rights reserved.
