Falling in love -- This post is not about what you think it's about.

I was a tough nut to crack when I was a teenager. While I exhibited perhaps only slightly less drama than the average American teen, I kept a lot of stuff bottled up inside, including a deep, deep pit of self-loathing. I was insecure, jealous, always wondering if my friends were having fun somewhere without me. (And, to be frank, they often were.)

This was not helped by spending a year's furlough in 10th grade away from all of my friends. When I returned to Nigeria at the end of my 10th grade year to say goodbye to friends who were moving back to New Zealand and be at graduation--always a reunion time at our school--I was excited but broken. I knew only too well how different things would be. Friendships had changed. New people had come, others had gone. I knew it would be a huge effort to fit in again.

And in those last few weeks of school when I was back in Nigeria (without my parents), a sweet thing happened. I filled out an application and was chosen to participate in the praise team.

While I had been gone for a year, a "new" couple had arrived. Jay ("Coach") and Heidi Tolar had both attended Hillcrest as kids, had spent many of their growing-up years in Nigeria, and had returned to teach P.E. and coach sports. And agreed to sponsor the praise team.

I immediately fell in love with the Tolars. I'd met Heidi before; she had come to teach high school P.E. as a single young lady when my older sister was in high school. But since she was not my P.E. teacher, I only knew her from hearing her teach the high school girls on the basketball court. I knew she was strong and had a cheerful if a bit intimidating demeanor. She was very pretty, and she played the piano beautifully. I remember that, even though it was more than 20 years ago.

But I'd never met Jay before. I suppose I had read bits and pieces about him in occasional letters and emails from my friends, but not having met him, I probably didn't pay much attention.After all, I knew I wouldn't be participating in any sports, so a new coach wouldn't really impact me.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

The Living Stones (praise team) - 1999

I arrived just weeks before the end of school, and I don't even remember how I got hold of the application for the praise team. But I loved to sing, and my siblings had both participated in leading worship at school, so I submitted the application and waited. The then-current praise team had a prayer meeting and prayed over the applications one night, and I was one of several who were selected to join the group. After having been gone for a year and feeling so out-of-the-loop and forlorn, this simple acceptance was a balm, that healing salve.

And that is how I got to know Coach initially. He would say he didn't have any musical talent but wanted to make a joyful noise. He had a rich voice (with a mild Southern accent) and lots of gusto, and even though he may not have had musical training, his enthusiasm and leadership were more than enough to bring us together as a team. Most of my sweetest memories from those two years are from spending time with Coach and the praise team.

I guess I should mention here, too, that my school was not just a school. It was the hub of a community of missionaries, expatriates, faith,  music, and sports. Teachers there didn't just teach. Their scope of influence wasn't limited to school. They were mentors. They led discipleship groups. They took us on ministry trips to the bush. They listened. They loved. They showed us by example how to live full lives. They were friends. Family.

Jay & Heidi on our senior trip - April 2000

I also discovered once my junior year began that Coach and Heidi were our class sponsors, so they would be responsible for helping us fundraise, put on our Junior/Senior Banquet, and plan our senior trip  I completely fell in love with them both. (Did I already mention that?) Heidi (but we called her "Mrs. Tolar," of course) was an A-type person--organized, straight-forward, always on top of things, cheerful and direct. Coach was more laid-back, full of charisma, lovingly blunt, and full of laughter. Seldom have I seen the spectrum of godly love and life demonstrated so visibly as in Coach and Heidi. They were God-people in a practical, hands-on way. They made us laugh and helped us become better people. They encouraged us to excel, to break out of the box, to do great things.

And Coach believed in me. I was this shy, terrified, jealous teenager, and Coach saw only what was precious and beautiful. More than once, he spoke against my self-deprecating attitude. He didn't just ignore it. He called me out on it, told me that every time I said something negative about myself--or even thought it--it hurt God. Ouch. Did I mention he was lovingly blunt? For all of my silliness, all of my neediness and faults, Coach somehow saw great potential. Even though I wasn't athletic and never tried out for sports, he was never disappointed in me but encouraged me to be healthy, to keep singing, to keep loving people and loving Jesus.

My senior year, I had to take junior/senior P.E., which is normally an elective, but because I'd been gone for 10th grade, I needed to take it to fulfill my graduation requirements. Coach taught the class, and I swear it is the only P.E. class I have ever enjoyed in my life. We did rock-climbing, golf, archery, marksmanship, Frisbee, and other fun stuff. And when I forcefully (but respectfully) refused to hold a gun, let alone shoot one, Coach didn't question me or comment. He just got out a bow and let me shoot arrows instead. That year I also volunteered to do basketball statistics--mostly time-keeping, blowing the air horn, that type of thing. It gave me a chance to see Coach in all his glory, immersed in his element. I loved the hype of being at games, being an honorary part of the team. I loved it.

And I knew that one of the hardest parts of graduating was going to be saying goodbye to the Tolars. No matter how much you love teachers, you have to know that those teachers will have new students next year, that while your heart might ache for missing them, they will have moved on to focus on other kids. That's their job, their ministry. But it made me sad, wistful. So when the Tolars invited our class to have Thanksgiving at their family home during our first year of college, while they were on furlough, I was elated. Honestly, I don't remember much of that four-day weekend, as I was pretty sleep-deprived. I remember Coach picking us up at the airport, coordinating our arrivals from all over the country. And I remember going to see Pay It Forward with Coach and a couple classmates while the rest of the group went shopping. I remember crying. I'd had a very hard time adjusting to life in college, and being at the Tolars' was like being at home. It was a safe place, a refuge, somewhere I could rest. My heart was bursting with thanksgiving. Later that year, Heidi had her first baby, and Coach called me one morning before class to tell me, "You're an auntie!" I cried.

The Tolars went back to Nigeria after that first year of college, and they focused on their students. And I missed them. I returned to Nigeria instead of going back to school the second semester of my sophomore year. We had the Tolars over for my birthday when I turned 20. When I returned to the States in June, the Tolars accompanied me as far as England, even letting me (and another student) stay with them at a London hotel for our layover. I cannot tell you how much it meant to me to be included, to be part of the family.

 I had fallen in love with the Tolars. They felt like home.