The Dream That Led Him to Me — and the God Who Led Us Both

How one unexpected vision, a tiny chapel and a lot of grace revealed our vocation and deepened our love for Christ.

The Portiuncula Chapel at the Franciscan University of Steubenville was key in Meg and Ryan's love story. (Photo courtesy of Franciscan University of Steubenville's Facebook page)

By Meg Stout

How my husband, Ryan, and I came to meet and marry is like something from the Old Testament: providential encounters, prophetic words and even a dream.

At 18, I went off to college at Franciscan University of Steubenville. My first year there was marked by good friendships and good habits: regular Confession, daily Mass and plenty of studying. That same year, Ryan was attending Montana State University across the country. While there, Ryan had a dream one night. In it, he was praying in a small, stone Adoration chapel. When he woke up, he was convinced this chapel was real and knew that he was supposed to find it. Some internet searching ensued, and he discovered the Portiuncula chapel that St. Francis had built in Assisi. It was close, but not quite the one from his dream. Then he found the replica of the Portiuncula at Franciscan University and knew that it was the one. Convicted that he needed to go wherever this chapel was, he transferred to Franciscan for his sophomore year.

We met on his first day on campus. Because of his dream, Ryan often went to “the Port” to pray. I also was feeling the pull toward the Blessed Sacrament, so I was taking time to pray there too. Multiple times a week, we would run into each other and walk back to our dorms together. After a couple of months, we began dating.

The next semester, I went to study in Austria, and Ryan stayed on the main campus. One time, I was praying in the campus chapel. I brought Ryan up to God, asking if I was supposed to marry him. Suddenly, a gentleman who was praying nearby came to me and in broken English said, “Whatever you’re praying about right now, you’re supposed to do it.”

We got engaged during our senior year and married just after graduation. That was almost twenty years ago. It’s truly been a joyful marriage, and I am filled with gratitude that God led us with such peace and clarity to our state of life together.

What really stands out is how God used our desire for him to bring us together. By God’s grace, our eyes were fixed on him, and as we got closer to him, we came to know one another.

If you’re still figuring out God’s call in your life, keep your gaze on Christ. Make decisions that bring you closer to him. If you’re called to marriage, God may just use those decisions to bring someone to you, and he might even do it Old Testament style.

Then again, he might not.

There’s no guarantee that continuing on the path toward Jesus will bring you a great spouse and an idyllic marriage, or even a dull spouse and a mediocre marriage. But I can say for sure that if you keep seeking Jesus, you will find him (see Luke 11:9), and in no way is that the consolation prize.

What I’ve known in my head for a long time has recently moved to my heart. It is this: Jesus really is meant to be our first, highest, most intimate love. Your relationship with your husband or wife (now or in the future) — as deep and good as it may be — is not the greatest experience of love that God intends for you.

Though he is one with the Father and the Holy Spirit, somehow Jesus still desires; he longs for every human heart. The Catechism says, “Christ comes to meet every human being. It is he who first seeks us [at the well] and asks us for a drink. Jesus thirsts; his asking arises from the depths of God's desire for us … God thirsts that we may thirst for him” (CCC 2560).

What if we don’t find ourselves thirsting?

First, we should ask for help. The Holy Spirit is always at work for our sanctification, even before we are. If we cooperate with him and ask him to increase our desire for Jesus, he will not refuse us.

Second, we would do well to cultivate an iconic way of seeing. In the Eastern tradition, an icon isn’t just religious art; it’s a window into the divine. To have an iconic way of seeing is to look through something, not merely at it. Everything that is good, true and beautiful has its source and perfection in God. So, when we witness the protection or tenderness of a father, for example, we can appreciate the goodness of the man, but we can also look through him to Goodness himself. If an earthly father can be so good, how much better must the heavenly Father be? In this, we turn our affection to God and grow in our thirst for him.

This is true not only with people, but with all of creation. The way the light hits the clouds during a sunrise can move us; we should delight in that. But what if we also started to ponder that sunrise as a window to God? We might start seeking the fullness of all beauty.

There is so much hope for us here because God desires for each of us the most perfect experience of love, regardless of our state in life or our level of happiness. With grace, we can cultivate our desire for Jesus and persevere in our pursuit of him. When we draw near to God, he draws near to us (see James 4:8). In this, we are offered the love we were created for: our heart in his, and his in ours.