Engagement: Part 2

 As we sat down to dinner, I had an inkling I knew everything that was going to happen. Presumably, the waiter was going to walk out with a decorated cheesecake and Joe would get down on one knee. How else would the hostess have known about our engagement? I nervously nibbled through dinner (and by nervously nibbled I mean devoured a sirloin), anxiously awaiting the moment Doug the waiter walked through that shiny glass door with a cheesecake.

Dinner wrapped up and Doug brought out a mud pie. And Joe did not propose. Suddenly I was stumped. But I'm no quitter, and my presumption knows no limits. Surely now he would drive me to the pedestrian bridge over the Wabash River where we had our first date. We would look over the water and he would propose then. Guaranteed.

"Do you know where we're going?" He asked. 

"Mm.. I'll just smile when I'm right." 

His truck pulled up to the entrance of the pedestrian bridge and I grinned. Under my breath I whispered, "I love being right." He walked quickly. We walked the entire length of the bridge, looked over the ice rink where we had our third date nearly a year ago, and pulled me into his arms. "Are you ready for this?" he whispered to me. I just nodded. I was sure I knew what was going to happen.

Then, much to my surprise, we began walking again. Just walking. More walking. So much walking. 

Finally, he led us to the side of the bridge where we looked over the water, just like when we first went out. The moonlit sky had the Wabash glimmering and I confidently turned to him and took my hand out of my pocket, ready for him to kneel down and put a ring on my finger. 

Instead, the little stinker took my hand and said, "Alright. Let's head back to the car."

At this point, my insides are screaming. My body is trembling - both from the windchill and the shock of unmet expectations. I wanted to look at him and shriek, "AREN'T YOU FORGETTING SOMETHING?" But I didn't. I suppressed my bitterness and sulked back to the car. I flashed a fake smile and tried to convince myself that I didn't even want to get engaged. As if. I just wanted to be right.

We drove home. I prayed for heart change. I got a text from my mom asking if we could go to Rock Point to help set up chairs for the Sunday service. I rolled my eyes, convinced that our date night was about to morph into community service and I wasn't getting engaged after all.

I directed Joe to Rock Point and after some deceitful pondering, he obliged. I suspected nothing as we pulled in, nothing as we hung up our coats, nothing as we approached the sanctuary doors. But when he pulled me in for a hug and the pounding of his heartbeat matched the rhythm of our favorite Ben Rector song, I began to suspect that something was up.

We entered the sanctuary, which had been decked out in pictures taken over the course of our relationship. The aisles of pictures led to a spot on the stage where he had painted a canvas and placed a few more pictures of us. We walked slowly, hand in hand, laughing at the memories and savoring the moment. He led me to the stage, said some elegantly endearing words that I wish I could remember, and then bowed his knee and asked me to be his wife.

It's the easiest "yes" of my life.