Ten years ago, today…

I began my commute from Honey Grove, Texas to my classes on the campus of Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary with a family heirloom… and a plan. As I drove, I made one phone call to my dad and unveiled the details of my plan for the first time aloud. Dad gave me some advice (which I’m sure was sage wisdom at its’ finest) but I only remember the reality of my plan becoming more heavy… and exciting.

I paused briefly at Troy Vinson Jewelers in Ft. Worth to leave the heirloom for cleaning, appraisal, and re-sizing. The master jeweler and I talked about Paris Junior College, where I finished some of my undergrad classes and he had completed horology school. I nodded while he told a few stories. He didn’t smile a lot. I couldn’t stop smiling.

I parked in a lot on the south side of the seminary and began walking to my first class. I remember being thankful that I didn’t have to lock the heirloom in the truck… or (even more unthinkable) carry it with me into class. I don’t remember anything about the lecture and discussion that day… but I do remember everything about the clock on the wall between the two east-facing windows. And the hands that moved so slowly.

I left Southwestern’s campus as soon as possible and drove to pick up the heirloom from Todd the master jeweler. When he opened the black jewelry box… I almost wept. Then I paid him whatever he wanted to let me legally leave his store with the solitaire diamond ring.

I numbly drove around Ft. Worth for an eternity… until I saw a flower shop. Girls like flowers. I remember thinking that. Mothers of girls who like flowers also like flowers. I remember thinking that as well. I bought some flowers for both girls. Then I called my dad again (text messaging was a tool for the affluent in the year 2003) and we talked some more as I drove to Terrell, Texas.

I knew that the ring had to be hidden somewhere on me so I could produce it at just the right moment. I remember thinking that this must be the reason for that tiny pocket on my Levi’s. Miraculously, the dazzling ring fit into the tiny pocket. I delivered the flowers and listened to some things that I don’t remember… but I knew that I couldn’t say much because every word in my vocabulary seemed to be conspicuously connected and inextricably linked (through a trickery-web of rhyming) to the words “marry me”.

I asked Amanda Dawn Wilson to be my wife on the tailgate of a forest green 1996 Ford Ranger pickup truck. She said yes. Through our decade of adventuring together, I have never stopped thanking her for saying yes.

This date is a natural moment for us to pause press and remember together. For a decade, we have called September the 22nd our “engagiversary”. Many more decades await…