“Love first chooses you, and then it becomes our choice to keep loving.”
I met my husband in one of the most unlikely ways. What we didn’t know at the time was that our love story actually began seven years before we ever met—back in 1998. I was a junior in high school, and Chad was a junior in the engineering program at the University of Minnesota. We grew up just twenty minutes from each other, living parallel lives, completely unaware the other existed.
On a cold fall night in southern Minnesota, Chad was driving a quiet country road he had traveled a thousand times. It was late, and he was exhausted after staying up studying for finals. Just a few miles from his parents’ home, fatigue overtook him. His car veered off the road, rolled into a ditch, and flipped upside down. At sixteen years old, I had no idea that the man I would one day call my husband was being airlifted to the Mayo Clinic on Thanksgiving morning.
In an instant, Chad’s life changed forever. He woke up in the hospital paralyzed from the chest down, fighting for his life on a ventilator, facing an unknown future filled with fear and uncertainty. Over the next four and a half months, he endured countless surgeries and intense rehabilitation. Slowly, he regained strength—strong enough to come off the ventilator, learn to drive a power wheelchair, and eventually leave the hospital to live with family.
Life now looked very different. Chad, once fiercely independent, had to rely on others for many daily tasks. While that loss was deeply difficult, he never lost his desire to live fully. Depression and self-pity never took hold of him. He often noticed others facing even greater challenges and chose gratitude over despair. That resilient, positive spirit would become one of the many lights that drew me to him years later.
After graduating from college, Chad landed a job with the Minnesota Department of Transportation, which allowed him to build his own home. Personal care assistants became part of his everyday routine—helping him in the mornings and evenings with things like getting in and out of his wheelchair, brushing his teeth, and stretching his muscles to prevent tightness from lack of use.
This is where our stories began to intertwine.
At twenty-two, diploma in hand, I believed the dream job would follow. I thought the ramen noodle days were behind me and that full independence had arrived. I bought my first home—a foreclosure in a town where I didn’t know a soul—because it was affordable and I wanted to restore it to life. But with only a part-time job teaching high school math and a mortgage to pay, money was tight. Ramen noodles made their comeback, and since I couldn’t afford a contractor, my dad spent countless hours helping me fix up the house.
All I wanted was to teach, but I needed extra income wherever I could find it. A friend of my mom mentioned that a man just a few blocks away was looking for part-time help. Seven years after Chad’s accident, I walked up to his house, young, nervous, and completely inexperienced. I had never done PCA work before. All I knew was that he needed help—and I needed a job.
I found the courage to knock.
The door opened, and I saw a handsome man with striking ice-blue eyes drive himself over to the door button. He smiled easily and introduced himself as Chad. When I admitted I was a “newbie,” he reassured me I’d learn quickly. His relaxed conversation instantly put me at ease. I was drawn to his smile, his dry humor, and the way he truly looked at me when we talked.
Those first weeks were awkward and uncertain as I learned how to be his PCA. The agency had made it clear I wasn’t supposed to share personal information or form a relationship with my client. So when Chad asked questions about my life, I often redirected them back to him. My heart leaned in, but my head told me to be careful. Falling for my boss wasn’t part of my plan.
Yet, as weeks passed, I couldn’t ignore how naturally we connected. We shared the same curiosity for learning, loved clever humor, and enjoyed deep conversations. He was the first man who genuinely thought I was funny. God was quietly writing our love story, and I found myself asking for more PCA shifts.
One afternoon, a few months in, while helping him organize his office at MnDOT, Chad shyly asked, “Are you hungry?” My heart raced. Was he asking me to dinner? As we sat together in a crowded steakhouse, I was learning how to navigate not just care, but life alongside him. While cutting his pork chop so he could use his fork attached to his wrist splint, I began to imagine what a shared life might feel like—and I wanted more.
Soon, my heart needed clarity. During our three-hour shifts, we had grown deeply connected—intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually. Butterflies, endless smiles, and a longing to see him more filled my days. I sensed Chad felt the same, often finding extra tasks just to keep me around longer. Finally, I gathered the courage to ask, “So… what are we? Friends or something more?”
He paused, then turned it back on me. “I don’t know—what do you think?”
Nervous and unsure, I said, “Just friends,” though we both hoped for something more.
Days passed, and our bond only deepened. Without trying, I was falling in love. The wheelchair faded into the background. Two weeks later, four months after we met, Chad asked me to be his girlfriend in December 2005. I said yes without hesitation.
Loving Chad opened my eyes to reactions I hadn’t expected—stares, questions, and assumptions from others. After much prayer, I asked him a vulnerable question: “Are you choosing me because you’re afraid no one else will?” His answer erased all doubt. “Andrea, I’d choose you every day for the rest of my life,” he said.
Nine months later, during a mosquito-filled hike at a state park, overlooking the St. Croix River, Chad pulled a ring from his wrist splint and asked me to be his wife. A thousand times yes.
Today, more than twelve years into marriage, blessed with our daughter Mari, we are grateful God used tragedy to bring us together. Love is strengthened through challenge. Our “challenges” are simply more visible. I get to be Chad’s hands and feet, and he brings strength, joy, and unwavering love into my life every day.
As Chad reminds me often—life is lived best when you remember you have complete control over how you choose to see the world. Attitude truly is everything.
