Every story has a beginning.  On the day that I was born, my husband was walking down the aisle with his second grade class to receive his First Communion.  We grew up in  in different states, on opposite shores of Lake Michigan, but one day, almost exactly twenty four years after I was born, we would meet. I remember once staring out across the expansive Lake Michigan, wondering who the man was that God had in mind for me.  There is a part of me that wonders if John was staring out on the other side of that lake right back at me, wondering the same thing.  The thing is, God is…