We had talked about getting married, but when he actually “popped the question,” I was surprised. I thought we had decided to wait until fall. He didn’t want to leave me wondering while he spent almost two months in the Soviet Union.
I had never had a boyfriend before. At the ripe old age of 28, I was beginning to wonder if it would ever happen. Then I saw him.
It wasn’t love at first sight. He had a beard–I’m not fond of beards. But there was something about his eyes that drew me. He was working in the building next to mine. Soon after I first saw him, he moved in with two of my friends from college. And he shaved his beard. What was handy in the mountains of North Carolina was only irritating in the heat of So. Cal.
We became friends. But that’s all we were. Until it became more. One night after hours of talking, he said to me, “The more time I spend with you, the more I like you.” I’d never had anyone say that to me before. I allowed my heart to hope.
Another day, driving down the highway to pick up something from the office, he grabbed my hand and asked,”What would you think if I did this?” My answer: “I would say that you better not be doing that with any other girl.”
A week, a few weeks, a month (I really can’t remember how long) later, he said, “I don’t want to date anyone but you.”
I had already determined that in my mind long before. Now, it was official. Six months later, on June 12, 1990, he invited me to go up to Arrowhead Springs, the former international headquarters of Campus Crusade for Christ, for a small picnic before he left for the U.S.S.R.
As we sat on the lawn overlooking the smoggy city of San Bernardino, Calif., on a red-checked tablecloth with a book of poetry and a bottle of Martinelli’s sparkling cider, we decided to close our time with a prayer. In the middle of praying, he said, “Hold on a minute, God.” I thought he was getting choked up. Instead, he lifted my chin with his hand. I opened my eyes and looked into his. He had a small black box in his hand. He said something along the lines of, “Will you marry me?” I laughed and said something along the lines of, “Are you serious?” And quickly followed up with something along the lines of, “Yes!”
That was 22 years ago. And I would still say yes today. Even if I knew that everything would stay the same as it has been. It’s not like a do-over. He is God’s gift to me, and I am more than grateful.
Happy engagement anniversary, Hunny! Thanks for asking. ๐
Thankful today for:
366. My husband
367. Happy memories
368. A sleepover nearly every night for the past 21+ years with my best friend
That’s amazing. I’m thankful for my boyfriend and I hope I can say something like this to him in 22 years ๐
Put God in the center, and you can have the same kind of story to tell. ๐
That was my red-checked tablecloth!
Yes it was! Thanks for adding to the ambiance, Carol.
Man, I’m good! Best move I ever made, second only to giving my life to Jesus when I was six years old. I had wanted to do all this at the beach since Californian-Stephanie loves the waves. But I had to get the ring shipped from Tennessee where I bought it–and it didn’t come on the weekend, and I was to leave on a Thursday. Smog can make for some nice pretty sunsets anyway…
In some cases, location matters. Not so much in this case. Love you, Hunny.
Gotta love engagement stories! So unique! Wishing you at least 22 more blessed years together!
Thanks, Terry! Maybe I’ll get to hear yours one day ๐
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