The Question

I am a little slow. It always takes me a long time to finish any given project, and sometimes I do not get jokes until the next day. This story will probably demonstrate.

I was on a date with my long-distance boyfriend on a Sunday night and things were awkward all evening. I was grumpy. He was acting strangely. We planned to spend some time on our favorite bench at the temple grounds before we went to a fireside* together, but there were a lot of people there, so we decided to go after the fireside. Which reminds me of the time we accidentally got locked into the temple grounds:

We enjoyed a long conversation as the beautiful white building towered above us, glowing white against the night sky. We strolled to our car, but realized the tall gate was closed. Quickly, we walked to another exit--but it was also locked. My boyfriend panicked. I laughed (so typical of both of us). He began to plot our escape: something involving him hoisting me over the 8-10 foot iron fence. I was wearing a dress and heels, but even if I had been in a leotard, I would not have dared! We rang the doorbell by the baptistry in hopes there would be someone in the building who could let us out. I was thinking about what would happen if we didn't make it home by curfew (midnight). How would it look to our parents if we did not come home until morning? Then I thought of how my parents would worry. It seemed like we paced for hours, but it couldn't have been hours because a security guard let us out, and I was returned home before midnight.

Anyway, back to my story. So we made our way to "our" bench after the fireside, but someone else was using it. So we found another and sat down to talk and read something together, something personal and spiritual in nature. We had read them together before. I felt close to him as he read to me a prayer for his future: a future with a wife and a family. I leaned my head against his chest as he finished reading. He then said quietly in my ear, "I want you to be the woman my blessing speaks of. Will you marry me?"

I was stunned. I remember asking myself, "Did he just propose to me?" We had talked about marriage many times (this is kind of an understatement), but he had never actually asked me to marry him. "Was this it? He wasn't on his knee, I didn't see a ring...but those aren't requirements, are they?"

There was a long moment of silence.

I was startled out of the dialogue going on in my head when in a worried voice he said my name (with a question mark). I decided I should answer him, so I said, "I will."

Then he stood up and I turned to see he was trying to dig something out of his pocket. He was having a hard time with it, and when he succeeded, all of his pocket change clanged onto the sidewalk. He mumbled as he picked up the coins. I stared, thinking to myself that the pennies were relatively insignificant at this moment, but I was also amused by what was happening. He tried to pick the dark pocket lint off the fuzzy pink ring box before he handed it to me. When it was in my hands, I didn't know what to do. I did not want my reaction to it to be calculated, and opening the box myself made it feel like it would be. I said I didn't want to open it. Not understanding, he started to worry about me not liking the ring (even though I hadn't seen it yet). Finally, I forced myself to open the box. It was lovely. It was more than I had expected.

Realizing that this was the moment that would always be the story of the start of our engagement, I started to cry as I told him how sorry I was that I had been in a bad mood all evening. If I had known, I would have been angelic!

But then again, I guess it was good for him to know what he was in for.

*A fireside is a religious devotional,
usually held in the evenings.