Editor’s note: Readers submitted romance stories for the Tribune’s annual Romancing the Heart section. Some published Wednesday, but this one, by Judy Menssen of Albert Lea, was selected to print today.

I met my husband, Allen, and his five young sons in the basement of the First Baptist Church at a Solo Parents Christmas potluck supper in December 1973. A friend had invited my 5-year-old daughter, Betsy, and me to attend. She wanted us to go because Santa was going to give each kid a gift. Someone else had invited Allen and his sons, Troy, 6, Darin, 5, Tom and Todd, 4, and Jason, 2. Allen and I had each lost our spouse that year. We were mustering up all the courage we could to just face Christmas without them.

Betsy and I noticed five little boys come rolling — sliding down the basement steps, all five happy and excited to be there. Five minutes or so later their father Allen came downstairs after hanging up the boys’ jackets, caps and mittens and lining up all the boots. I noticed that Allen had a quizzical expression on his face, that first impression was right on! He wouldn’t hurt a flea and he never raises his voice, Betsy used to say, “Dad only gets mad once a year.” If there was trouble, the kids all wanted to answer to Allen!

After games and singing Christmas carols, somebody hollered, “Everybody line up for the prayer and meal.”

I walked over to Allen, introdued myself and said, “I just have one kid to catch. May I help you get your sons through the supper line?”

He looked at me like I’d dropped from heaven and said, “Which ones do you want?”

And I said, “Why don’t I take the two boys who are latched onto my pant legs. What are their names?”

He replied, “They’re Tom and Todd.” So we eight sat together and ate supper and got acquainted. The kids were having a great time laughing, eating and talking. We discovered that we both used to be school teachers. Allen taught math, and I taught second grade. When it was over everybody went home; we never gave it a thought that we might see each other again. We were both so sad trying to face Christmas without my husband, Kenny, and his wife, Karen.

During the January snowstorms, Allen starting calling me after he got the five boys to bed. Once Betsy caught on who was calling, she asked, “Is that the dad with the five wild brothers? Ask them to come over here to make popcorn and watch TV with us.”

I relayed that message to Allen, and he asked, “How soon can we come?” So that Sunday they all came with a lot of mittens, caps, scarves over their faces, jackets and boots! What a pile that made in my kitchen. That was the start of getting together every Saturday or Sunday. The kids loved it.

The next two years we eight had many good times going skating, to movies, church and school activities, parks, picnics, visits to the grandparents, and aunts and uncles and cousins’ houses too. Allen called me up and said after the first six or eight weeks that we should each hire a baby-sitter and go someplace by ourselves. Then I was nervous, before that I hadn’t had time to think about it because I usually had one or two little boys on my lap. The kids weren’t so keen on the sitter idea.

One night when Betsy finished praying in bed, she looked up at me with a big smile to say, “I like us a lot better now. You used to cry all the time.”

After about two years we all filled up the car and drove over to the church. Allen and I went inside to ask the Rev. Milt Ost if he’d marry us in two weeks. He checked his calendar and saw he’d be available on Nov. 8. As we were visiting about the wedding we heard a terrific commotion from out on the parking lot. Pastor Ost quickly walked over to open the door and look out. Jason was behind the wheel honking the horn nonstop and Tom and Todd were jumping up and down on the roof of the car. Betsy, Darin and Troy were running around playing tag and scolding Jason for honking at the church.

Pastor Ost scratched his head and smiled. He said, “Normally I won’t marry a couple unless they come three times for counseling. Just come that Saturday at 5, and I’ll perform the ceremony. It’s too late for counseling.”

We were thrilled. We sent invitations to all our relatives.

The morning of the wedding Betsy and I decorated the house with fall flowers and put candles on every table. We’d moved the boys five beds over to our house the day before. The kids were very excited. Our families were happy for us and they all came. We had 98 guests at our house on Levison Street for supper after the wedding.

Over on Bunker Hill the boys got up early, took baths and put on their new suits and new shoes by 9:30 a.m. The wedding wasn’t until 5 p.m. so Allen told them to keep clean and just sit around the house. Talk about barking at the moon! A couple weeks later some of the neighbor ladies told me that the five boys had gone door to door, rang doorbells to show off their new suits. They told, “Today, we are marrying Judy and Betsy.” They were all smiles.

All of my piano students dressed up too and attended the wedding.

And that is the story of how our family got together. It wasn’t always easy, but it wasn’t dull. We’ve been blessed. One of my good friends brought her toothbrush and pajamas to the wedding and told us to go away for 24 hours and she’d love to watch the kids for us. When we came home from our 24-hour honeymoon, she was watching for us. When she hugged me goodbye she whispered in my ear, “I think an affair would’ve been easier!”

Our house on Levison Street was never immaculate or lonely again. This year we’ll celebrate our 35th anniversary. The frosting on the cake is having 10 grandchildren. Seeing our kids and familes always gives us something to look forward to. God is good. Now Troy and Tami, Madie and Olivia live in Medina, Ohio; Betsy and Andrew, Ben, Sam and Anna live in White Bear Lake; Darin and Marissa, Yelytza, Sajil and Hans live in Hastings; Todd and Connie, Lucy and Clara live in Northfield; Tom lives in Minneapolis; and Jason lives in Atlanta.

Judy Menssen

Albert Lea