Blessed Beginnings

THE ULTRASOUND ROOM was abuzz with happy anticipation as the technician, a former coworker of mine, prepared for the scan. As the image of our daughter's face became clear on the screen, we were ooh-ing and aah-ing and commenting on how cute her little cheeks were. Then the adults in the room grew quiet.

"Does her nose look smushed to you?" I asked the technician.

She simply said, "I need to get the doctor."

This wouldn't be the first and only time that we would be seeing doctors on Mia's behalf. Little did Jase and I know that a whole new chapter of our lives was about to unfold. Thankfully, we had come a long way from our very start, a memorable Christmas in 1988.

* * *

I did not have to say a word.

The look on my face communicated everything to Jase Robertson when he presented me with my Christmas gift in 1988.

It was a potted plant, not even a very big one or some exotic species, just an ordinary plant in a plain clay pot. Since I could not hide my confusion, I stared at him with a look that clearly said, "Are you kidding me?"

Sensing that I was not exactly pleased with this present, Jase could hardly restrain himself from grinning as he told me to "dig around in the dirt." As I dug, I found a small box covered in felt (and dirt). I knew immediately that it was a jewelry box but had no idea that the box held a beautiful engagement ring! Once again, the look on my face communicated everything I wanted to say, which was great, because I was so excited and surprised I could not speak.

Jase looked at me and proposed in his unique way, not gushing about how much he loved me and tenderly asking for my hand in marriage. He simply said with complete confidence, "Well, you're gonna marry me, aren't ya?"

Too thrilled and shocked to say very much, I managed to answer yes, and that was the beginning of a commitment the two of us still hold and treasure to this day, one that now includes our two amazing sons, Reed and Cole, and our remarkable daughter, Mia. We have a wonderful life together, but it did not just happen to us. Since the very beginning, when Jase and I first met, we have had challenges to overcome. We are still facing challenges, and with God's grace and help, we are still overcoming them.

Apples and Oranges

The differences between Jase and me were obvious from the start. For one thing, he had already graduated from high school by the time we met, while I still had two years left. Beyond that, our backgrounds had almost nothing in common, except that we were both committed Christians and had both been raised in West Monroe, Louisiana.

Jase was the second son born to Phil and Kay Robertson, whose tumultuous early years of marriage are well known. Jase grew up having to take care of himself in many ways or under the watchful eye and caring hand of his older brother, Alan. I was born in Lubbock, Texas, but my family moved to West Monroe when I was six months old. My father was a preacher, and my mother was a music teacher. My childhood was as stable and structured as Jase's was unsettled and unstructured.

By the time Jase's family got established in rural West Monroe after living in Arkansas and in a couple of small towns in Louisiana, he was surrounded by three brothers; a host of aunts, uncles, cousins; and his paternal grandparents, Granny and Pa, who lived in a little house on Phil and Miss Kay's property. The Robertsons were accustomed to big family meals, large holiday celebrations, and having lots of people around. Phil and Miss Kay have always had an open-door policy in their home, eager to feed someone, clothe someone, or give someone a place to sleep. Many times, Jase walked out of his bedroom to find a stranger sleeping on the sofa, and he hardly ever walked out his front door without running into a relative.

I, on the other hand, grew up with one brother, and with no grandparents, aunts, uncles, or cousins nearby. When we wanted to visit family, we had to travel out of town, which we could do only once or twice a year. My mother's parents often invited missionaries or traveling preachers to stay at their house, but my father's family kept to themselves and did not welcome outsiders into their home. When my parents married, they basically followed my paternal grandparents' example, and we rarely had guests for meals or an overnight visit.

Every Saturday, my brother and I helped our parents with household chores, such as dusting, vacuuming, and cleaning. My dad often said, "Cleanliness is next to godliness," and after meeting Jase, I quickly realized that the Robertson family did not regard this proverb as highly as my family did.

I remember one Saturday when Jase called me and asked if we could go out that night. I told him I'd like to but I had to dust first.

"Dust?" he asked. "What does that mean?"

"You know, dust the furniture."

Silence.

"Like, take a rag, spray Pledge onto the furniture, and wipe it clean."

Yes, I actually had to explain to Jase that the word dust could be used as a verb as well as a noun.

Obviously, the Robertsons' open door and relaxed, unstructured ways were completely foreign to me, but I liked them.

I went to a private Christian school. Jase went to public school. As a teenager, I liked spending weekends with friends or going to ballgames. Jase wanted to spend his weekends outdoors and was happy as long as his activities included a fishing pole or a shotgun. My family bought ingredients for our meals at the grocery store. Jase's family had two primary ways of providing dinner for themselves: They either caught it or shot it, then skinned it and dressed it. My family lived in a well-kept house with a paved driveway in a suburban neighborhood. Jase's family lived in the country, and everyone parked their cars in the front yard.

When Jase and I first started dating, I had no idea how little crossover existed between the ways we grew up. All I knew was that he was very good looking, he was serious about his faith, and he had a self-possessed, self-confident quality that I had not seen in other guys. He was not interested in impressing anyone, including me. He was so comfortable and secure in who he was that I knew right away "what you see is what you get." He was determined to be true to God and true to himself. I understood that about him soon after we met, and I liked it.

Jase wanted to make sure I understood something else about him. When we reached a point in our relationship where we knew we could become serious about each other, he said to me, "You need to know something about me. I hunt every day of duck season. I will not give that up. Are you prepared for that?"

"Okay," I said. "If this relationship goes where I think it might go, I will not complain about your duck hunting every day of duck season. But in return, I want you to agree to send our children to OCS." OCS stands for Ouachita Christian School, the school I attended growing up. My parents had helped found the school, and my mother had taught music there. I had such a wonderful experience at that school, and being able to provide that same opportunity for my children was important to me. Jase agreed, so we had a deal.

I Had No Idea

Exactly what it means for a man to go duck hunting every day of the season may need some explanation. Duck season can last up to about three months, but it does not open and close on the same days every year. Some states also have a break in the season for about two weeks; that break is called "the split." When the split occurs in one state, ducks can still be hunted in other states. When Jase said he hunted every day of duck season, that meant he could be away from home for a couple of weeks at a time.

During duck season, his alarm clock goes off sometime between 3:00 and 4:00 every morning. He typically stays in the duck blind for hours — all day if necessary — to get the allowed limit of ducks per day. When we were dating, and for most of our marriage, the Robertsons' family business, Duck Commander, operated out of Phil and Kay's house, so Jase went there to make duck calls once he finished hunting. I hardly ever saw him during daylight hours.

I had to come to understand that while some people hunt for fun or recreation, Robertson men hunt for a living. Duck hunting is not a hobby in our family; it's a big part of our livelihood. For years, our family survived solely off the sales of the annual Duck Commander hunting videos. If the ducks were not flying over West Monroe, Phil and Jase had to find them somewhere else in order to make that video to support our families. The Robertsons hunted long before Duck Dynasty ever entered anyone's mind, and they will be hunting long after the show finishes its run. Hunting is not optional for Jase; it's part of who he is. Sometimes that means he operates without enough sleep. That wears on a person — and on his wife and family.

Phil and Jase hunt more than anyone else in the family and take hunting more seriously than the others, so Miss Kay totally understands how I feel once duck season starts. She has said more than once, "I sure hope I don't die during duck season because none of the men in the family would come to my funeral!" I have to say, she has good reason to be concerned.

One day during the early years of our marriage, before cell phones, Jase left for his usual day of hunting and filming with Phil. Our routine was that Jase would usually either call me when he got back to his parents' house or have Miss Kay call me to tell me he was on his way home. This communication became a lifeline for me — knowing that my husband was okay and that another day of duck season was behind us. On that particular day, Phil had returned home in the early afternoon without Jase, eaten lunch, and was taking his nap, which I learned when I talked to Miss Kay. She assured me she would call me when Jase arrived.

By late afternoon, I still had not heard from Jase. By evening, long after the sky was dark, and just as I was about to panic, the phone rang. Jase, acting completely relaxed and even jovial about his successful hunt that day, could not understand why I was almost hysterical with worry. He had been out there alone for hours! "Missy," he said calmly, "you need to understand something. I am more comfortable driving a boat at night, by myself, than I will ever be driving a car in the middle of the day down the interstate. You never need to worry about me when I'm out on the river. That's where I grew up." I have never forgotten that conversation, but I will admit I still worry every once in a while.

Since no one on my side of the family was a hunter, I did not fully understand what being married to a serious hunter would actually mean, but I know now. His early mornings and long absences are not my favorite things about being his wife, but he did try to warn me about the reality of this unusual vocation, so it's something I've grown used to.

Early in 1991, a few months into our marriage and soon after US troops were sent to Operation Desert Storm, I watched a national news story in which the wife of a serviceman was being interviewed. She described certain sacrifices that her family had to make because her husband was gone. She had to quit her job in order to take care of her small children (since she and her husband had shared that responsibility before he was deployed), and money was tight. When the journalist asked her how she was making ends meet, one of the examples she mentioned was that she washed and saved aluminum foil to be used multiple times. Reusing aluminum foil? I had never thought about doing that. Jase and I didn't have much money, but I didn't have to save aluminum foil!

That wife's story hit me hard as I listened to the entire news broadcast, and at the ripe old age of nineteen I began to comprehend how much our military families were sacrificing for us. Not only do they sacrifice financial stability; they also sacrifice their own safety when called on a mission, a mission that is on our behalf. They ensure that the rest of us keep our freedoms — including choosing an occupation such as hunting.

Many times when Jase is out of town for long periods of time, one of my married friends or acquaintances will snidely remark, "I don't know how you handle it. I would never let my husband do that." First of all, that's a decision Jase and I made together, long before we got married. Yes, it has been difficult at times, especially when the boys were little. But all I could think about when hearing those comments was, At least he's not fighting in a war overseas! Those wives are the ones who have it hard. I don't know how they do it. Whenever I am asked how I handle Jase being gone so much, I always think of that news story. At the risk of sounding boastful, I'll tell you that I handle it like a champ!

We Were Meant to Be

Once Jase knew I would not interfere with hunting season and I knew he would honor my desire to send our children to the school of my choice, we could move toward engagement and marriage. Despite our differences, we knew we were meant to be together. The commonalities of our faith and shared values forged a powerful bond between us, in addition to the elements of enjoying each other's company and the mutual attraction we could not deny.

By the time Jase and I became engaged, not only had we become best friends, but I also knew beyond any question that Jase was God's man for me, and I was God's woman for him — for the rest of our lives, no matter what. We married on August 10, 1990. Our wedding took place in the same church we still attend with many longtime friends and members of our extended family.

I was nineteen years old when we married, and Jase was six days from turning twenty-one. The day was everything I always dreamed it would be. I wore a beautiful wedding gown handmade by my mother's best friend, a perfect duplicate of an expensive designer dress I had seen at a bridal store, down to its last tiny bits of beading, lacework, and tufts of tulle. As someone who has always loved music and enjoyed singing all my life, I wanted to be both the bride and the soloist at my wedding, so I prerecorded a song called "Only God Could Love You More" to be played as I walked down the aisle.

Jase and I made a deliberate decision while we were dating to remain sexually pure until we were married. Keeping that commitment was not easy, but we did it. We decided to trust God, and we were determined to honor His Word no matter how much of a struggle it was. The important thing is we made it! Two years, ten months, and two days, but who was counting? The first sexual experience either one of us ever had took place with each other on our wedding night. Jase often says it was more like an exploratory biological experiment! We have remained faithful to one another and our marriage vows since that day.

Thank You, Miss Kay and Lisa

Jase and I dated for almost three years before we married, long enough that I had the opportunity to spend a good bit of time around his family. The differences between the Robertsons and my family didn't faze me. I enjoyed visiting their home and realized before Jase and I married that Miss Kay could teach me a lot about being a wife to a Robertson man. I had seen the way she treated Phil — her attentiveness to his every need, her servant's heart toward him, and her overall affection for him.

I knew Miss Kay was Jase's role model for his future wife. He had certain expectations for the woman he planned to marry, and Miss Kay had set a high standard. Because I admired and respected her and also wanted to please my future husband, I was eager to learn the lessons she already knew. I was not trying to become a duplicate of Miss Kay; I knew I had to be true to myself, but I also saw the value in demonstrating toward my husband the attitudes and actions she used with hers. From Miss Kay, I learned partly by instruction, but mostly by example, how to love and honor my husband.