Rare moments in life, we stand at the very top of the mountain. Looking all around in every direction from that lofty height, glorious beauty fills our eyes. The clouds look like a white ocean at our feet. Our hearts race. A light-headed feeling overtakes our senses from the thin air, the chill, the silence. We barely notice our shadows as pure golden sunlight, unfiltered by the clouds below, bathes our bodies like a halo. Even so, our skin turns to gooseflesh. Though exceptionally uncommon, these mountaintop moments do happen and—if we allow them to—overshadow the bulk of the time we exist down in the terrestrial valleys.

Sleeping, waking, showering, sipping our morning cup, eating, taking in the news, cleaning up after ourselves, commuting, working, pondering, planning, teaching, learning; these make up just a few items in the long list of daily mundane tasks we perform while living down on the surface of planet earth. Then, suddenly—and very rarely—utter astonishment coupled with the tiniest sliver of anxious exhilaration completely overtakes us when life suddenly flings us out of our prosaic workaday experience, hurtling us all the way to the mountain’s peak in a single rush. Our middles become a flock of butterflies, and our knees turn to water. We barely notice even the most important everyday item from the low valley below as the astounding beauty of that moment cuts to the front of the line of our priorities. Life transports us to the mountaintop in that single heartbeat when we first lay eyes on that one person, that one who God has made especially for us.

For Daisy Ruiz, she first found herself on the mountaintop at the tender age of twelve.

Kenneth Dixon—who went by Ken and never Kenny—and his two brothers joined their youth group. She learned Ken’s name just as soon as possible and later learned that his brothers went by Jon and Brad. So-called identical triplets, she had to admit she often had trouble telling Brad from Jon or Jon from Brad. However, she never once had any problem identifying Ken.

Something about the way Ken moved, or how he sounded when he spoke or laughed, or the way he smelled always differentiated Ken from his look-alike brothers. Even at fifteen, his arms and chest rippled with muscles beneath his preferred polo style shirts. As far as identical, at least in Daisy’s opinion, Ken looked much more handsome than either of his ordinary-looking brothers.

Her father led the youth group and hosted the high school class each week on Wednesday nights in their home. By the second week, Daisy had enveloped the inside cover of her science notebook with variations of “Daisy Dixon,” and she very, very much wanted to feel those muscular arms embracing her while those incredible eyes stared deeply into hers.

The problem, as Daisy saw it, was that Ken Dixon barely noticed her. He was so much older at fifteen, a Sophomore in High School already, and surely just viewed her as a little girl in middle school.

He acted like a perfect gentleman with her parents and mostly stayed quiet in the group. Fairness forced her to admit that Ken handed out this trademark introspective silence pretty equally. He didn’t really reserve his reticence for her exclusively. Occasionally, he did have an interesting way of filling in the silences with a baritone word here or there whenever one or the other of his brothers paused while speaking. His brothers would do the same to him, so Daisy rightly assumed this syncopated synchronized speech pattern had something to do with them being triplets.

That first summer, the brothers went on a mission trip to Egypt and spent five whole weeks building a school. Daisy took that time to study. She read a lot and watched a lot of videos trying to get some ideas about how to get Ken to notice her. Brad or Jon—she was never exactly sure which—often included her in their discussions. As a rule, unless she spoke to him first, Ken never even spoke to her after she greeted the brothers at the door. In seven months, Ken never once initiated a conversation with her.

Knowing Ken would return to Bible Study in her home just before school started, Daisy began to pray. She prayed that God would give her some inspiration, like He had Ruth. If not, Daisy prayed that God would at least ease the ache she felt in her heart every single time Ken failed to notice her new hairstyle, or her new dress, or her attempts at makeup.

School kicked off, and Daisy consulted with friends, never naming her crush, always trying to understand exactly how they got boys to notice them. Her mother caught her looking mopey and angsty, and Daisy nearly confessed the name of her heart’s desire, but she feared that her parents would keep them apart, so she kept it secret. However, she interrogated her mother about how she knew her father was “the one,” how she got him to notice her, and a thousand other questions.

At Christmas that year, though she nearly chickened out a hundred times, Daisy handed Ken a simple Christmas card right after the Cantata at their church. He stared at the card, puzzled, then said, “Oh. Thanks. You guys got the card Mom and Dad sent, right?”

“Yes. Yes, we did.” Daisy felt her smile falter just a little bit. His gray eyes had trapped hers, somehow, and she wanted to touch him, hold his hand, something. He just stood there looking down into her eyes, and she took a breath and bravely carried on. “I actually got this card for you. It’s from me.” After what she instinctively knew was a slightly too long pause, she concluded, “Ken.”

Oh, my, how she liked saying his name while he looked into her eyes. She longed for him to say her name, to hear it pronounced with that slight Atlanta southern drawl in that very baritone voice of his.

“Oh.” His eyes left hers to look down at the sealed envelope, and suddenly she could breathe again. “Okay, well, Merry Christmas. See you guys after the New Year.”

The brothers went on a two-month-long mission trip that summer, once more, leaving Daisy alone with her thoughts and hopes and dreams for the future. By the end of the summer, Daisy had convinced herself that the feelings she had for Ken Dixon amounted to little more than a young girl’s crush. Just puppy love.

She convinced herself with the unshakable certainty of every fourteen-year-old girl who has ever lived that the next time she laid eyes on Ken Dixon, her heart rate would stay steady, she would not feel dizzy, she would not feel tongue-tied, and she would have the ability to look away from him at will. He refused to even notice her? She wouldn’t even notice him. Ken Dixon was simply not worth her attention.

The first youth group meeting after the Dixon brothers returned from their mission trip, it just so happened that her mother was out of town looking in on a sick cousin. Daisy made sure she had things to do in the kitchen. That way, she didn’t even answer the door when they arrived. Her father happily greeted and seated all of their guests. The group had grown and split a time or two to keep the size manageable.

Just before youth group service began, Daisy carried in the last tray of snacks. She nearly dropped it when she saw Ken purposefully walking toward her with an elaborately wrapped gift in his hands.

He had grown at least another few inches. His skin looked evenly tan, making his teeth look whiter and his stubble look darker. She could swear he had more muscles on his shoulders, arms, and chest.

Daisy set the tray down, her heart beating against her ribs like a machine gun as Ken stepped closer. He stood right there in front of her on the mountaintop for a breath or two, smiling, looking her dead in the eye. She wanted that moment to last forever—just the two of them above the clouds with a beam of sunlight spotlighting them and them alone.

“Hey,” he greeted.

Her mouth went dry. She swallowed, hoping her voice sounded feminine and mature, not childish and tomboyish. Daisy no longer wore braces, and her teeth looked straight and white now. She remembered to smile before she spoke. “Ola, Ken.”

“So, the people in Honduras, they make these really incredible baskets. They make them out of all kinds of things like wicker, palm—heck—even pine needles. Anyway, they are really beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like them. So, anyway, here.” He handed her the elaborately wrapped box with the perfect bow on top.

Daisy’s mind, body, and soul froze as she accepted the gift. She dared not hope. She dared not speak. She just spun on the mountaintop like Julie Andrews spinning her way across the Alps, and her mind swayed to glorious music as her skin felt hot and chilled all at once.

“Can you get that to your mom when she gets back?” Ken explained.

Daisy tried her best not to let Ken see her heart explode. He might not have seen it, but she could not understand how he didn’t hear the thunderclap sound it made. “Sure.” She nodded, exercising incredible poise so as not to make her smile look somewhat creepy. “I’m sure she’ll love it, Ken.”

Her Freshman year, she finally attended the same school as the Dixon brothers. Ken and his brothers were the most popular seniors at their High School. At seventeen, the triplets had academically surpassed most of their peers and focused a lot of their attention on college-level classes like engineering and CAD. Ken stayed near the top of the honor roll and didn’t date very much.

The first time she passed him in the hall, he didn’t notice her at all. A few days later, she waved and said, “Hi, Ken.”

He turned his gaze toward her, somewhat startled, then knitted his brows as if trying to place her. When recognition dawned, it looked almost comical. “Daisy. Hey. I heard you were coming here this year. Cool.”

He nodded, then continued heading to his next class as if the exchange never happened. The next seven times she passed him the hall in the weeks that followed, he didn’t seem to notice her.

The fiesta de quince años, also known as a Quinceañera, is a celebration of a girl’s fifteenth birthday in many traditional Hispanic homes. While Daisy’s parents didn’t consider themselves very traditional in most regards, they wanted her fifteenth birthday party to be very special and chose to honor this tradition.

Hoping Ken would come as well as the rest of the young people in her parent’s youth group, Daisy wanted a dress that would devastate even the most oblivious man. Perhaps something low-cut and with sequins, or a gown that dipped in the back. Daisy’s mother wanted her garb to look more like an opaque ballerina tutu made of pink cotton candy and hoops.

They compromised with the dress being far more modest than what Daisy had in mind but far less fluffy and childish than what her mother had in mind. Daisy spent the better part of the weeks ahead preparing for her entrance, her segue, and her dances. She practiced walking up and down the stairs in high heels while neither touching the handrail nor looking down at her feet. She walked through rooms with a dictionary balanced atop her crown and spun and spun and spun through the den until her father told her to stop.

Mr. and Mrs. Dixon graciously offered their home for the party. They lived in a 20,000 square foot castle with grounds to match. Mrs. Dixon had told her mom that every fifteen-year-old-girl needed to feel like a princess on her birthday.

Daisy thought that Ken would surely notice her then, in his home, dancing across his floor, looking more elegant and beautiful and grown up than she had ever looked before.

The day arrived. Her parents greeted everyone. Her friends chattered about the castle and their envy over her party. A table draped with linen overflowed with gifts. Her grandparents arrived looking joyful and pleased that this tradition had carried on to her generation. Her father removed the low heels from her feet and replaced them with perfect high heels.

The day could have only been more perfect if her parents had not decided to limit the guests outside of family to young men and women age fifteen and under. Granted, she knew every person in attendance from either school or their church, but the Dixon brothers, and one Dixon brother in particular, would never see her in the flesh on this day. However, Mr. and Mrs. Dixon left an amazing gift before taking the triplets out of the home for the evening.

Her grandfather stole a private moment that afternoon. “My beautiful granddaughter looks far too sad for the occasion. Why are you sad, Cariño?”

Daisy considered an excuse but settled on the truth. Grown women told the truth. “A boy, Papa.”

This answer clearly surprised her grandfather. “A boy? Well, boys always disappoint. Bide your time and wait for a man. Eh? Is this boy here? I can talk to him about making you sad, you know.”

She grinned. “He’s not here. That’s why I’m sad.”

Understanding bloomed. “Ah. I see.” He smiled. “You know something, Cariño? I have not danced with you. And tonight, you look exactly as beautiful as your grandmother did the very first time I ever saw her. That deserves a dance.”

They took to the dance floor, and Daisy relished in the smell of her grandfather who always smelled faintly of wool and caramels—and fine cigars he shouldn’t smoke but always managed to sneak. At some point in the dance, he spoke to her very quietly. “I trust your judgment, Daisy. You are very wise for your years. I think you are especially wise in matters of the heart. But if I could offer you some advice, I would say this. I think this boy who isn’t here? I think he wouldn’t want you to be sad on this day on his account. What do you think?”

Daisy thought about it as her grandfather smiled and led her across the dance floor. “What I think is that he doesn’t really think about me at all.”

After a few seconds, her grandfather said, “Well, everyone here thinks about you and loves you. And I tell you something else. If God has made this boy especially for you and made you especially for him, he doesn’t stand a chance. One day, God willing, this boy will think of little else besides you. But it will be in God’s good time. Now you just wait and see.”

The Dixon brothers turned eighteen and made a big deal about registering for the draft. Christmas came and went, then New Year’s, and before anyone could sufficiently brace themselves, Saint Valentine’s Day arrived. The National Honor Society began publishing student rankings, and everyone felt confident Leah Wing would take the Valedictorian spot for the graduating class.

In a Georgia High School, the only thing that moves faster than the track team is the gossip. In no time at all, Daisy heard the news. Naturally, Ken Dixon asked Leah Wing if she would like to go to Prom with him and, just as naturally, Leah accepted.

After that, whenever possible, Daisy closely watched the two of them interact. Or rather, not really interact. They didn’t date. They didn’t even sit together at lunch most of the time. One day, she watched them pass each other in the hall without even giving one another a glance.

Daisy fantasized about taking Leah’s place and going to Prom with Ken. She figured he might not notice anyway, and it would save Leah the expense of buying a formal gown.

In fairness, Ken and his brothers had their sights set on only one thing, and that one thing was Auburn University in southern Alabama. Ken and Brad would let nothing get in the way of that goal. Jon, however, started getting a little bit of a reputation as a bad boy. He started wearing his hair differently, which made it easy for Daisy to tell him from Brad. As usual, she could spot Ken from a mile away just by the cut of his jib.

Meanwhile, her Freshman year, while Daisy mostly warmed the bench in an alternate slot, their Debate Team placed at sectionals and then won at regionals. They ended up in the top twenty-five at nationals held in none-other than Washington DC.

Daisy figured out that she loved debating for several reasons. First of all, she had to think and speak quickly. Secondly, she spent so much time and energy arguing with herself inside her own head, debating gave her a much-needed outlet that helped to still her troubled mind and spirit. Finally, debate grounded her in logic and allowed her to get some perspective about her emotions most of the time.

Most of the time.

At youth group, the Dixon brothers began to discuss their summer mission trip. This summer, they would spend nine weeks in Kenya digging wells and building housing in the slums, helping people get out of the cardboard shacks they lived in now. As soon as Daisy heard about this, she quietly began to petition to go on the mission trip with them. She did all of her research about passports and visas and vaccinations. She read the US State Department travel advisories. She allowed herself to fantasize about stolen moments with Ken while they worked side by side to fulfill God’s work.

Gradually, she came to realize that her parents could not afford to send her on the trip. The church could probably assist and offset some of the cost, but right or wrong, that would bring a measure of shame to her father that Daisy would never want handed out. So, she instantly informed her parents she had changed her mind about the entire thing, and everyone breathed a little easier.

Daisy finished the year with honors. At her brother’s graduation ceremony, Daisy got a glimpse of Ken wearing his cap and gown. He and his brothers would spend the summer in Kenya and then begin their matriculation efforts at Auburn directly upon their return. Daisy had no idea when, or even if, she would ever see Ken Dixon again.

For the remainder of her high school years, Daisy focused on things like Beta club, Debate and Forensics, History, and English. She went to Homecoming with her cousin, Julian, and went to Prom with the Debate Team’s newly minted captain, a Junior named Garcia Perez. Daisy let Garcia kiss her at the end of the night, though Garcia’s kiss left her feet firmly planted on the ground. If anything, gravity felt even heavier at that moment.

She ended up ranking sixth in her class. Unlike the majority of her classmates, Daisy knew exactly what career she wanted to take on. Specifically, she wanted to become a litigator. She planned to obtain her Juris Doctorate, pass the bar exam, and become an attorney. God willing, she planned to handle morally relevant cases within her community.

Daisy gratefully accepted a two-year scholarship to Emory just north of Atlanta. She had faith that God would provide some way for her to finish her education beyond the first two years. She made the Dean’s list every quarter and finished her first year at the top of her class.

A few days into summer break, her grandfather called her and asked her to join him for a celebratory dinner. He treated her to the Viscolli restaurant on top of the famous hotel. They sat near the windows, and every hour the entire restaurant rotated 360 degrees, giving a perfect view of the Atlanta skyline.

During the entrée, he said, “So, your grandmother and I agreed that if you keep your grades up, we want to pay for the rest of your school.”

Overwhelmed, Daisy exclaimed, “Papa! That’s amazing! Gracias! Muchas gracias. How can I ever repay you?”

Her grandparents chuckled, and her grandfather said, “Funny you should ask.” He folded his hands and met her eyes with a solemn look. “After you pass the bar, promise me you will do something for us.”

“What? Anything. I’ll do whatever you like.”

He nodded. “We would like you to serve as the legal representative and executive director for Gálatas Seis. We hope you can commit to five years. Now, understand Cariño, the position is not charity work on your part. It isn’t a lot, but there’s a salary.”

Her grandparents had built Gálatas Seis from the ground up, using the verses in Galatians 6:1-10 about bearing one another’s burdens, doing good, and sowing the Spirit as their mission statement. Daisy had no idea her grandparents ever even had such plans for her. The five-year commitment didn’t really concern her. She felt that amount of time was a small price to pay in exchange for a college education and starting out debt-free. She had visited Gálatas Seis a few times in recent years but could not even imagine how she would fit in there. “I don’t know anything about running a non-profit.”

“That’s the idea, Cariño. We teach you everything.”

“Why five years?”

“The truth is, life is short. Your grandmother and I, we really want to travel. We want to visit family more. Things like that. For the first few years, you learn everything you can. After that, we hope you can take over a lot of the work there so we can start to move into retirement. Then, for the last few years, train your replacement. The whole time, just relax and rest a little. You will have job security. You’ll be doing good work for a community that needs you. Take that time to build your resume and plan for your future.”

Daisy sat quietly for a few minutes, pondering the idea. To think that her grandparents had planned this for who knew how long? The idea astonished her. “Have you talked to Dad about this?”

“No. Of course not. I’m talking to you. I trust your judgment, Cariño. If we have a deal, we can talk to your parents together.” When she didn’t answer again for a few seconds, he prompted, “Do we have a deal?”

Suddenly, Daisy knew the answer, and no amount of additional mulling would change it. “Deal. And thank you again.”

She worked hard in school and made the short trip home nearly every weekend. By the first semester of her Junior year at Emory, she even went on a few dates, though her feet still remained firmly on the ground. No mountaintop experiences. Once more, Daisy assumed that her childhood crush had been nothing more than that—merely a youthful infatuation—and that real love felt much more mundane than her childish flights of fancy.

All of these memories, the watershed moments of a lifetime, flashed through her mind. How different might her life have been, Daisy wondered, if only this or that moment had gone differently? Daisy pondered that question and even dared to wonder what the future might hold as she held the pregnancy test and watched the tiny little pink minus sign mercilessly and relentlessly turn into a plus symbol.

Definitely not a mountaintop moment.