Some old sayings are true: It's amazing how time flies when you're having fun. Five years ago on the eve of Valentine's Day I asked this lovely lady to be my bride, and for reasons that defy all logic, she agreed. It was a great day, and the fun continues.
I suppose one could make a case that waiting for Valentine's Day would have been a bit more romantic. The problem was I would be heading home on Valentine's Day and flying to California the day after that. This was not, after all, a carefully planned proposal, though perhaps it should have been.
We'd spent a good hunk of that day enjoying the beauty of Harrison Hot Springs, walking beside the lake, enjoying lunch, and talking with each other and with the Lord about what the future might hold. Harrison is a beautiful spot. It would have been a great place to pop the question. So why, you might ask, would anyone in his right mind wait until he was speeding down the freeway heading back towards Abbotsford to ask that all important question. And I would look at you, shake my head, and be thankful once again for grace. The truth of the matter was that our conversation that day assumed that we had a future together; it wasn't until the trip back that I realized that I hadn't actually asked. So I did. And she said "yes." (Later that day I waxed sufficiently poetic to make up for the day's odd timing with a poem that won't appear on the blog.)
It was a great day, but the best thing about it was not the weather, nor the date. The best thing was that she said yes.
