How Showing Up Became the First Step Toward Trust
“Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.”
—1 John 3:18 (NIV)
If someone had asked me in the fall of 2009 whether Oji and I were dating, I probably would have laughed.
“No.”
Not because we weren’t growing closer, but because I’ve never been fond of the word dating. To me, dating always sounded temporary—something expected to end.
Courtship felt different.
Courtship assumed direction.
It assumed purpose.
It assumed that if two people continued walking together, they were walking toward covenant.
The funny thing is…
I didn’t know that was what Oji was doing.
Looking back now, I can see it everywhere.
Not in grand romantic gestures.
But in quiet consistency.
A Rainy Saturday
One Saturday afternoon, Oji invited me to watch his football team play in Brooklyn.
At the time, he was still coaching at the junior college level, months before he would accept the opportunity to coach professionally in the UFL.
I climbed into one of those old Brooklyn gypsy cabs and headed to a stadium I’d never been to before.
The weather turned.
Rain began falling.
The stands were wet.
The field looked gray under the clouds.
For a brief moment I wondered if I’d made a mistake.
Then I reminded myself of something simple.
I told him I would be there.
So I stayed.
I had no idea that years later, showing up in the rain would become one of my favorite memories of our courtship.
“Sit With My Mom.”
Before kickoff, Oji had given me simple instructions.
“Sit with my mom.”
His younger brother, Stefan, would be with her.
That sounded perfectly ordinary.
Now I realize it wasn’t.
Without ever saying the words, he was introducing two important parts of his life to one another.
Me.
And his family.
After the game he greeted me, introduced me to several people on his coaching staff—who somehow already knew exactly who I was—and then made sure I left with his mother and brother.
That surprised me.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one hearing about someone new.
Mama Fagan
His mother and I rode the city bus back toward our neighborhood.
Somewhere between the stadium and the junction of Flatbush Avenue and Nostrand Avenue, she began asking questions.
Not intimidating questions.
Mother questions.
She wanted to know who I was.
What I believed.
Where I came from.
Where I saw my life going.
Looking back…
She wasn’t interviewing me.
She was getting to know me.
When we reached the intersection, we smiled, hugged, and each boarded the bus that would take us the rest of the way home.
At the time, it simply felt like a pleasant conversation.
Years later, I realized it was the beginning of becoming family.
A New Beginning for Both of Us
While Oji was faithfully serving where he was and preparing for what would come next, God was quietly opening doors for me too.
After months of searching, I finally received a call from a staffing agency.
The recruiter told me something I’ll never forget.
One line on my résumé had caught his attention.
World Changers Church.
He recognized the ministry because he watched Dr. Creflo Dollar on television.
He believed someone who had worked there would bring integrity, professionalism, and a strong work ethic.
That conversation opened the door to a long-term temporary assignment with Visiting Nurse Service of New York.
The organization already felt familiar.
On my father’s side of the family, nursing was practically the family profession.
My grandmother had been a nurse.
Several of my aunts were nurses.
In a way, the work felt connected to my family’s legacy of serving others.
I was hired to help establish a brand-new position as Grievance and Appeals Coordinator.
There wasn’t an established process waiting for me.
So I helped build one.
Several months later, they offered me the position permanently.
There was one thing I had already settled in my heart.
Years earlier, I had willingly accepted a significant pay cut to leave web production and serve in full-time ministry.
That was a decision I never regretted.
But I also knew I wasn’t called to undervalue the gifts God had entrusted to me.
I needed a job.
I wasn’t going to rob myself of the value I knew I brought.
The offer reflected both my experience and the work I had done.
Looking back, I realize that season taught me something I still believe today.
Faith and wisdom were never meant to compete with one another.
Trusting God doesn’t require us to underestimate what He’s already placed inside us.
Finding My Voice Again
That same October, another dream quietly became reality.
I self-published my first book.
Poetry of a Black Girl.
Holding that book in my hands felt like reclaiming a part of myself.
One of the people who celebrated that milestone with me was my friend Janelle.
We had met while serving together at World Changers Church New York.
Professionally, she worked in Human Resources.
At church, she served faithfully in Children’s Ministry.
Photography had been part of her life long before I met her.
As an Army brat, she spent much of her childhood moving from place to place. Her camera became a way of preserving moments that might otherwise disappear.
To celebrate my first published book, she invited me to do a portrait session.
At the time, I thought we were simply taking author photos.
Years later, I discovered one of those portraits had become Oji’s favorite picture of me.
After we married, he framed it and placed it on the coffee table in our first home in Texas.
Whenever we talked on the phone while we were apart, he would often look at that photograph while we talked.
Janelle wasn’t simply taking pictures.
She was preserving a season.
More Than Enough
As Thanksgiving approached, I invited Oji to dinner.
His mother was working, and I didn’t want him spending the holiday alone.
I cooked enough food for what felt like an entire church fellowship.
There were only three of us.
Me.
Nicole.
Oji.
The turkey had been on sale, and apparently I hadn’t yet learned how to shop for a household of three.
The meal came out beautifully.
There was far more food than we could possibly finish.
So Oji packed containers and took them back to share with his players.
Christmas looked much the same.
Another meal.
Another cake.
More food sent back to bless someone else.
At the time, it simply felt like hospitality.
Looking back, I realize God was teaching us generosity before He entrusted us with a family of our own.
What We Didn’t Talk About
People often ask when Oji and I first started flirting.
The funny answer is…
We really didn’t.
Our conversations centered on faith.
Purpose.
Leadership.
Life.
During his lunch breaks, we studied Scripture together.
He talked about coaches who inspired him—men like Tony Dungy and Vince Lombardi.
Because of those conversations, I read Tony Dungy’s books on servant leadership and Vince Lombardi’s autobiography. Later, while we were courting, we even saw the Broadway production about Lombardi’s life together.
Those men helped shape Oji’s philosophy as a coach and leader.
Their influence eventually became part of our conversations too.
Our friendship wasn’t built on chemistry alone.
It was built on shared values.
Looking Back
I didn’t know I was being courted.
I didn’t know God was restoring my career.
I didn’t know my first published book would one day become part of a much larger writing journey.
I didn’t know a photograph would someday sit on a coffee table while the man who loved me talked to it during our phone calls.
I didn’t know Thanksgiving leftovers could become ministry to an entire football team.
I only knew two people were faithfully showing up.
Years later…
I understand that love rarely announces itself with fireworks.
More often, it arrives in rain-soaked bleachers…
Around a dinner table…
On lunch-break phone calls…
And in ordinary moments that only become extraordinary when viewed through the lens of time.
Continue the Journey
Next in the series…
Found in the Margins: Part Eight
“You Are. Do You Have a Problem With That?”
Sometimes the moment you finally ask the question…is the moment you realize the answer has been there all along.
Continue Reading Found in the Margins
Found in the Margins is an ongoing memoir series by Lela Jefferson Fagan, chronicling the unexpected ways God writes our stories through faith, family, friendship, purpose, and everyday moments.
This series is published on both Memoirs of a Black Girl and Substack.
🌐 Memoirs of a Black Girl
https://memoirsofablackgirl.com
📝 Substack
https://lelafagan.substack.com
Thank you for reading. If this story encouraged you, consider sharing it with someone who may need the reminder that sometimes God’s greatest work happens in the margins.
© 2026, Lela Fagan. All rights reserved.
