A Proposal to Remember...

It's been a bit of a joke that my fiancee and I have been doing things a little backwards. We were never officially engaged and yet set a wedding date, put a deposit on the photographer, and bought wedding rings. He mentioned long ago that he was planning on proposing on Christmas Eve, and although I knew it was coming, it still seemed like a distant dream, something that could be taken away. Yes, we were getting married...weren't we? We were in love...and we were sure we would make it, right?

The days before Christmas counted down slowly and my anticipation grew higher. He was planning on staying with my family for a few days during a snowstorm over the holidays, and I didn't see him grab the ring from its hiding place. I fell into the temptation and asked if he forgot something...and immediately hated myself for it. I mean, where is all the romance if I have to prompt it? I decided from then on, no matter what, I'd let him forget or remember, whatever would be would be, and I could just cry myself to sleep later.

So Christmas Eve stretches on. We're practically stranded in my parents' home, and he doesn't seem to be doing much besides playing computer games and watching tv. There's no sign of any romantic plan being hatched. No candles, no whispered plans with my parents, nothing. I've pretty much just given up on this whole thing and am keeping my disappointment to myself. So what if this is a moment I will only have once in my life, a moment that should have been planned and executed with all the romantic flair I dreamed about for over two decades?

I'm in the kitchen trying to find something to fix his attack of the munchies. He spots a bag of TGI Friday's Cheddar and Bacon Tato Skins over my shoulder and votes for those. I like them, too, so I grab an extra bag, cut it open, and join him on the couch. After a few minutes, the remnants of his bag are demolished and he nudges me.

"Tamara, will you share your chips with me?"

"Yeah." I hand over the bag.

"Tamara? Will you share something else with me?"

I raise my head, prepared to scoot over and grab my water bottle for him. As I look up, he pulls a familiar white leather box out of his pocket.

"Will you share your life with me?"

It's sweet, completely unlike how I had ever pictured it, and built around a bit of a pun (and kind of corny, too). I start crying.

"I love you, Tamara, with all my heart, and soul, and mind...hey, that's a song!"

Tears start rolling down my cheeks. He's distracted by a musical reference in the middle of his proposal. It's so like him. And I love him. More than I could ever imagine loving a man who thrills me, drives me crazy, and is completely devoted to me in all the ways that count.

Jerry reaches for my promise ring and begins tugging at it to replace it with my stunning diamond engagement ring. He tugs while murmuring how much he loves me, then looks at my hand with furrowed brows.

"Um, this isn't coming off."

I giggle a little and pull off my ring with an expert twist. He replaces it with my diamond and we seal my enthusiastic "Yes!" with a kiss.

Sometimes it's the person, not the plans, that makes it all worthwhile. It wasn't a fairy tale with him on one knee and me holding a dozen roses, but real life is about working with what you have--in this case, a quirky sense of humor and a $1 bag of potato chips from Dollar General. This proposal was unique, not cookie-cutter romance. Romance fades after a while--love, real love, the kind worth marrying over...it lasts forever.

Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to drag my fiancee's laptop out of his lap and really give him a good kiss for this very special, very lovely Christmas Eve night.

A Disturbance in the Force

I'm finding it incredibly interesting to watch the development of my relationship with my boyfriend. It's a lot more than just an accumulation of facts, observances of behavioral patterns, and a sky-rocketing cell phone bill (oh, thank the Lord for free mobile-to-mobile minutes when you have the same carrier). As we spend more time together, apparently we are getting better at "reading" each other--or as my good friend Amy would say, "discerning a disturbance in the force."

I've been able instinctively understand others at times, usually people I'm really close to, but always with a varying degree of accuracy. I was certain several times that my mother was upset about something, but she was really just tired (that's a hard distinction to make). I'm pretty good at hiding my emotions when I really want to, so it's not too surprising when others miss out on my changing moods. As we get closer, though, my boyfriend is getting uncanny results on reading me.

Last night I was really frustrated with a breakdown in communication with people, and while some of my signals were pretty obvious (being silent and refusing to look at people are pretty big signs that something's seriously wrong--in this case, I was desperatly trying to control both my temper and my tongue), he had sensed my anxiety level rising long before I resorted to physical signs of distress. It wasn't so much reading me but, without even looking at me, knowing that something had changed. A sixth sense. A ripple in an emotional pond where we are both swimming.

I've heard of twins being able to communicate like this, a deep bond keeping them in touch despite miles or even continents separating them. I never thought I would have anything even remotely like that with a boyfriend--after all, we're from different planets and neither gender can make sense of the other, right?

Maybe the magic ingredient that ties two people together so much isn't necessarily a "love connection" or an awareness of Star Wars terms. Maybe it's the Holy Spirit whispering another's needs in our ear--and since we have such a strong emotional bond with that person, we're more receptive/understanding/attentive to the pull at our hearts and minds.

I haven't figured this out yet, but while I'm working on this new puzzling aspect of being part of a couple, I'll enjoy the attention and comfort of knowing he gets me...at least a little, for now. :)

Deserter

From Jan to Dean, upon a very bad night of arguments.
Rough draft #2

We knew the war was looming off in the distance
Under a blood-tinted sunset.
We knew it was inevitable--we would have to fight.
Neither of us are skilled warriors in this kind of battle--
The kind where you fight those who know you
The kind where you can lose more than you could ever gain
The kind where hiding until the rage storm blows over is more desirable than ever.

Afraid and hopeful that there would come a new solution
A way to avoid the war
To escape unscathed
We worked hard behind the lines
Prayed
And kept our silence.

There comes a time, though,
When the enemy senses your position;
Keeping still and silent will not save you from being surrounded
And with anger, they confront your fearful heart.

I stepped out of the shadows and began to fight
Trying for peace all along
But knowing it wouldn't come until after great struggle and pain.
You were not caught as I
And instead of joining me,
You hid.
You left me alone.

Abandoned, I cried for you
I begged you to come
Begged you to let me run to you.
Together, we are stronger--
Or so I thought

You knew my precarious position
The sharp weapons thrust at me
The wounds already etched into my skin.
A dagger pierced through part of my heart.
My will would keep me in strength for only so long.
Still, you ignored my calls,
Licking your own wounds in a cave of your own making
Barring the door to my entry
And leaving me to the mercy of my foes.

Didn't you understand my vulnerability?
Didn't you see that our bond might be broken?
Didn't you care that I might die?

I survived the night
With God and a few brief moments of comfort
From friends who heard and responded to my cry
Despite their own battles, struggles, and needs.
But they were not my partner,
They were not my teammate.
They tried to take your place,
But no one can fill that spot shaped as you.

I needed you wild at heart
Timid, you left me.
My pain increases
My tears course down swollen cheeks
I cry out to God and run to Him
He comforts me
He didn't leave me

You cried out to me, so
I comforted you,
Cheered your shaken spirit
After my words of warning brought the war to your door.
You revived and began business as usual,
But you didn't note my bloody clothes
Dark skin marking my struggle
And still kept me at a distance
Where I could tend you
But I was left to fend for myself.

I understand why you ran
I still hate that you did
I understand why you didn't see my pain
I still hate that you didn't think to care
I understand your wounds
I still hate that you dismissed mine

Forgiveness will come
But the trust is cracked

The war will not end tomorrow
But before I again engage the enemy
I need to know--
Should I surrender now, let you be alone and accept my fate;
Or will you come rescue me
Fight beside me
And be who I need you to be:
Someone who pursues God's will,
Puts me first (as I do you),
And lets promises be kept
Even in the face of foul fear?

If you want us to continue
If you want me, at all...

Don't leave me again.

Choosing Sides

A few months I went to a high school basketball tournament at a local school. I followed my fiancee into his alma matter, looking around anxiously for people I might recognize from my own old high school. Our pasts were playing against each other tonight in two games--first girls, then boys. I didn't see anyone I either wanted to greet or drastically avoid, so I just let myself be led through the gym, up really steep steps, and onto an uncomfortable wooden bleacher. My eyes searched for two students I was currently teaching and who would be playing for Brashear--my old high school. I noted my finacee's nieces quickly. One played for Novinger's team and the other shouted encouragements from the sidelines with the other cheerleaders.

As the game started, I spotted the first of my students. She wasn't playing the best game, so I cheered extra loud for her. A few times, the people around me started giving me odd looks, but I assumed it was for being too loud. It wasn't until the second quarter that I realized that my fiancee had seated us not in the "available" side of the gym, but on the Novinger side. I was cheering on a Brashear player. Hello, CONFLICT!

Granted, the few women who were really shooting me dirty looks seemed to understand when I explained my situation--I'm cheering on individual players who are my students, not necessarily the team. They would nod as if thinking Why, yes, that does make sense. She's a teacher--she needs to support her students. I think that cheering for my fiancee's neice on the Novinger team helped.

As the game progressed, though, I found myself grinning when Brashear scored. Novinger seemed disorganized, especially on defense, and I took pride when girls, even the ones I didn't know at all, put more points on Brashear's side of the board. Apparently without realizing it, I had chosen a side despite being very proud and wanting a win for the sole Novinger player I knew.

It may not seem that odd that I picked my alma matter to support to most people...unless you've heard me talk about my experiences in this school. Granted, most of it would boil down to the usual teenage angst present in high schools, but my public school years were almost entirely miserable. A few teachers really inspired me, and not every day was a nightmare, but overall, I would NEVER want to relive a single day of my years at that school. While the school has changed a lot (and I taught there for a semester--talk about a creeptastic moment when I found THAT assignment out), I still get weird feelings every time I drive there, my inner self cringing as the gravel crunches under my tires. What am I doing here again? Are you NUTS?!?! Have you forgotten everything they put you through, how you promised you'd never return? There is nothing for you here--run now while you can!

If I dislike my past so much, and don't hold much faith in the crazy public school system I was brought up in, then why was I rooting for my hometown team? Why do we protect the familiar even when it's not at all good for us? When we're picking sides, are we doing it for the right reasons? Are we defending family members, people from our "hometowns", even though we know they're wrong but we feel like we have to protect "our own?" What kind of damage could this do to those outside our circles of influence...or even those we are standing up for?

I'm still proud of the Brashear girls--they deserved to win that night. They were, simply put, the better team on the court. My fiancee eventually forgave me my slight against his team, mostly because the Novinger boys won the next game and apparently I'm "too darn cute to stay mad at."