The Engagement

Note!: This is long. This is long and there's a ton of detail and I tend to change tenses. But it's my story and I can tell it any way I want! Read at your own desire!

- How it all began.

Michael planned a most impressive proposal set up. The Sunday before Thanksgiving we headed down to my hometown for some family time and horseback riding. While I attended a friend’s bridal shower, he sat nervously at my parents’ house, waiting for the opportune moment to ask them for my hand. While I waited 20 minutes for him to pick me up from aforementioned shower, he answered the questions my parents had for him and received affirmation that my parents would not interfere in our marriage (such as: if I ever got so mad at him that I went home to my parents, they’d console me and then set me straight back on the road to him, there would be no “wicked in-laws,” etc). So with their blessing he left to pick me up at the shower. Where I had sat for 20 minutes. Irked beyond everything that I had to wait. I’m 25, I'm annoyed patient. I'm not good at waiting. He was very apologetic and begged me not to be mad at my parents (I knew it was their fault). Looking back I now know why he insisted on me not railing at them when I got home. I just figured they wouldn’t stop talking (which is true but not because of them being the, “aging, forgetful, digressing, and generally talkative parents” I thought.)

Wednesday morning he bringsup the idea that we should go horseback riding at my parents the next morning. I immediately want that idea as far away from his thought process as possible, but wanting to be the girlfriend who supports her man and does not immediately squelch any ideas he comes up with, I manage an indifferent, “oh… really?” Oh really. He wanted to, very much, very, very much. We end the phone call and I mull over it some more at work (the “mulling” consisted of me thinking, “How in the world can I convince him not to go horseback riding?”). Later that night he gives me a call, after some small conversation, I can’t help but remember that we’re to be very honest with one another, so this is how the rest of the call went:


Me: Babe (very humbly) I love you, but I’m going to veto the idea of horseback riding.

(You might as well have told him Obama had chosen Giuliani as a running mate.)

Mic: WHAT?!

(Pause.)

Babe, come on, it’ll be horseback riding before Thanksgiving, how neat would that be?!”

(Pause)

Me: Mic, please, I really don’t want to go, I don’t think it’ll be any fun at all. I don’t want to go.

At this point Mic notes to me that he’s almost at my house (we’re going to B&N for something).

We hang up but the conversation continues in the truck on the way over.

Me: Look, I’ll give you four reasons why we shouldn’t go horseback riding in the few hours before we go to Leslie and Richard’s for Thanksgiving. (I hold up four fingers, serious as a heart attack, and tick them off accordingly) One, the horses will be muddy and it’ll take us a half hour to get them tacked up. Two, we have one bathroom for seven people, we’ll be dirty, the natives will be running around chaotically, it’ll take forever to get ready. Three, we’ll be pressed into service, the H.M.S Wakefield is a beastly ship and we’ll be relegated to the galley. Four, the transport system works as such on the ship: Whoever has transportation, transports. We’ll end up with some random kid or food product. Wait, I’ve got five! We’ll be late!

After this he turns to me, grabs my hand emphatically and looks lovingly into my eyes.

Mic: Sarah, I’ve worked 12 hour days these last two weeks, I just want to enjoy my Thanksgiving. Horseback riding is something I really want to do, can we please do it this? I’ll even call your mother.

Me, with an, “I dare you” tone to my voice: Do it.

He calls my mom and I can hear her agreeing (traitor!) over the phone, she’ll even have the horses ready in the morning. I halt their conversation to make sure that the above possibilities are not in the contract for horseback riding. Ultimatums are the only assurance in the household. If you want to do something or get something done, issue and ultimatum and by golly, you’ll get to do it, your way. Their conversation ends with the agreement that it will all go smoothly. (yeah, whatever!)

I turn to him: If any of the above instances occur, I get an infinite amount of “I told you so’s.”

Amazingly he agrees, and slowly the guilt of treating this event so harshly begins to grow. I refuse to apologize yet though. I have the satisfaction of “I told you so” and I am not giving that up, yet the sinking feeling that all will will go smoothly starts to hit me. Slightly grumpily I realize once again that getting my way, no matter what I've gotten, always turns out to work against me in the end. Nuts.

The next morning he arrives 10min early and we fly down to Bremen. I vocalize my apologies for having a bad attitude and silently give myself a good talking-to the whole ride home. I will enjoy this horseback ride. What kind of sister and daughter and girlfriend am I? It hits me that I’m a terrible person. Mentally I hang my head. My boyfriend wants to visit my family more than I do! What kind of message does that send to my parents and siblings? Well, way to go Wake! I promise myself that I will enjoy this time with my family, I do love them! All Mic wanted to do was enjoy the holiday! By the time we arrive I am in full family appreciation mode. This is going to be a good day.

We arrive and the horses are completely tacked up, warmed up, and fitted with halters and lead ropes, something we haven’t done in years. I take note but it’s nothing too out of the ordinary. Mom has the horses all warmed up and ready to go, so we head out to the fields. He's on Doc and I'm riding Shadow.

Shadow is quite possibly the most romantic horse possible. He's a light dapple gray (a light gray horse with dark gray pigmentation in the shape of circles that gives a dappled appearance. Which he is, since he’s a dapple gray. And this description definitely takes the romance out of moment) Arabian/Saddlebred cross (not a National Show Horse) with an amazing personality. Ellie, my 10 year old sister is his primary rider (I should say his “dominant” rider, seriously, she’s a force to be reckoned with) and he obediently listens to every command she issues. The poor ol’ chap is whipped (not literally, although the crop is kept by her side at all times). What this all means is that he listens really well and loves to be ridden by adults, granted Ellie is probably the best and most amiable rider he could ever dream of having. Doc is my brother Caleb’s horse, a good quarterpony with solid conformation and a good head on his shoulders. He and Mic seem to have hit it off magnificently and I think Doc prefers Mic to me, which is actually kinda cool. My man’s got horse sense.

So I’m cantering around the fields, having a great time on Shadow (mom used to tell me he’s the horse any girl should be riding when they meet their man, guess she was onto something) and Michael comes along with me for a quick canter and then veers west over our hayfield. I join up with him down at the low end of the field and he offers up the idea of going on the path in the forest next to us. A few years ago my mother had a terrible riding accident (a horse flipped over backwards on her) on the ridge of that path and although we’re always ones to get back on the horse after we’ve been bucked off, it’s a path we haven’t been to ready to take, although we have walked it numerous times. Michael brings up the fact that Mom said she’d just cleared it and I agree to head on down. I did promise him it would be a good day.

As we head down the path through the woods I notice that it’s really clear. Very clear. And I also notice that the leaves on the path are recently rustled and the multiflora rose bush branches are all freshly broken. Michael shushes me with an exasperated, “Oh just keep going!” All in all though, I’m just doing it to show off my superior tracking skills. And I know all the stopping and pointing out things will drive him nuts. I find it pretty humorous So I mentally take note of who to trust if we ever get lost outdoors refrain from pointing out anything else. Spoilsport. You can definitely tell who's seen Last of the Mohicans in this relationship. At the bottom of the hill (the path goes down into a valley within the woods) we cross the creek and I continue on leading. It’s a wonderful ride and the horses are behaving beautifully. Shadow really is a dream to ride. It strikes me that it’s Thanksgiving morning, we’re riding horses, we’re riding horses through woods that are very special to me (I spent most of my pre-teen through early college spare time riding or walking through these woods), and well, we are close to an engagement. I hear him halt his horse and I do the same, turning around in my saddle to see what’s up. I can’t help but grin at the thought that this might be “the day.” He looks around and without making eye contact mentions that it’s, “Very beautiful out here.” I look around and honest to goodness think, “You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s November, it’s cold, it’s bleak, and it’s dreary. Beautiful?” But if Michael’s bringing it up, you know it’s for a good reason. I acknowledge likewise and can’t keep myself from grinning that this is getting terribly suspicious. I put the thought aside though, there’s no sense in building up an occasion for something that might not happen. Back to riding.

Michael takes the lead and I’m refrain from spouting off, “Hey you! You don’t know where you’re going, get behind the trail master!” Really there’s no way to get lost and if he wants to lead, so be it. Eventually we get to the end of the trail; the property ends at the edge of a neighbor’s yard about 100 yards ahead. I go to turn around and he stops, telling me we should tie the horses up and walk a bit. Well, hey, if he wants to, why not!? So we dismount and tie our horses up. I ask if he knows how to do the slipknot/safety knot and he retorts like he’s been doing it his whole life. Really there’s nothing unusual about a non equestrian knowing these things, Michael’s a pretty smart guy and he knows things. Plus he’s really good at giving off the impression he knows things. (sidenote: he's really good at that.)

As we start walking around, I begin to get a little nervous. We’re walking, not very intentionally, and certainly with a very slow pace. It really can’t be called a pace, it’s more like a shuffle. As I start babbling about not getting out of sight of the horses a lilting tune begins echoing off the hills. To my amazement a bagpiper’s (bagpipes!) tune fills the air and my heart begins to skip and the beats take up my entire being. It’s as though Scotland is here and now. Michael pulls me to face him and looks deep into my eyes. He tells me that he loves me and wants to spend the rest of his life with me. As he gets down on one knee I am struck with the realization that “the moment” is happening right in front of me. The next scenes pass as though in a dream, he’s very pale and shaky and getting down on one knee. Then he pulls a box from his pocket and from it takes a most gorgeous diamond ring. With a very emotionally-charged voice he asks me if I will marry him. The moment has fully arrived. Full of nervousness and joy I stare in shock and say, “Yes!”

I’m going to fast forward past all of the rest of the moment, it’s very precious and whilst I would share it with all of you, I must keep it for my own enjoyment.

The bagpiper switches to another tune, this time it’s, “Amazing Grace” (the first tune was “When Irish eyes are smiling”). We’re jumping up and down (ok, really, I’m doing all the jumping, he just appears relieved and very worn out) and hugging and all of that other lovely nonsense. Then suddenly it hits me like I’ve been run over by a train. I have just committed my life to someone. To Michael. I have just said yes to be his wife. My life as I know it is no longer. I slowly turn to him and as lovingly as possible give him some insight as to what is going on inside me, “I think I’m going to throw up.”

He chuckles and wraps his arms around me. “No babe, I’m really going to puke.” With the serious tone in my voice he realized I meant business. We move over to a fallen tree and take our seats. For the next 10 to 15 minutes we sit, I with my mouth gaping open and the blankest of blank looks upon my face, he with his arm around me, occasionally reaching up to close my ever open mouth. I pat his arm and tell him I love him, but I just can’t look at him. Honest to goodness I didn’t know whether I would throw up, cry, pee my pants, or do all three. He continues to sit beside me and hold me close. I hear him speaking words of love and encouragement to me, but I cannot keep them close enough to soak in. Then he says something that pierces through this cloud that has befogged me.

“Babe, we’ll get through this. We’ll get through this together because we always get through things together.”

Slowly that filters through and I grasp ahold of it. “We get through things together.” I’m not alone in this wretched moment. The cloud lifts and I glance over at him. My Michael. Yes, we get through things together. The cloud lifts more and with it joy comes in and I am struck with another solid thought. I get to marry him! He will be mine and I his forever! Oh how lucky and blessed can a girl be? Once again I am free and me and we hug and kiss again and now the real joy of being engaged sinks in permanently. Let the festivities begin!

We sit there in engaged bliss a few moments longer. Jordan, the young man who drove out to the middle of nowhere to play his bagpipe has left; we shouted our thanks to him and received our first, “Congratulations!” in response. The horses are getting restless, Shadow has managed to make his short lead long and has wound himself around the tree to the point that his face is plastered to the side of the trunk. There’s a muddy, leafy, and circular mess where Doc’s been tied up. I think he had it in his mind that if he were to be tied to this tree, the whole of the forest would know he’s been there. We mount up and head on out. The horses need no urging to bring the good news home (really, they’re not that barn sour!). As we make our way back to the homestead Michael tells me that he came down the day before (while I thought he was at work) and cleared the path with Mom, then took the horses on a ride down the path to make sure they were comfortable with it and to work out any quirks they hadn’t anticipated. Can you believe the planning he went through? He and I have very similar if not the same tastes in nearly everything, but he really sought to coordinate something that would mean something to both he and I. Something we would treasure.

When we get back everyone is waiting to hear the news. Like they didn’t know I’d say yes. It is a beautiful day indeed!


The End!

Why do we have weddings?

Hallelujah! This article lays down why we do not want to be engaged for months on end, why I don't care to send out invitations 6 weeks ahead of time, and why I am not turning our wedding into an ordeal. I wish the whole of society would read this and realize that increasing the complexity of a staged production does not increase the significance of the moment. You will not create a better marriage and intensify the covenant moment by upping the expense and extravagance of your wedding. That moment is intense because of what your two hearts are creating, not because of what has been created.

Please, do yourself a favor and give this article a read. Realize that you're only buying into insecurities (that apparently haven't been healed or addressed like you had hoped) and disillusions for creating a production that will impress you (which it never will), your fiance(e) (which it never will because you have kept them at a distance for however many months it took to coordinate this), or the guests, or the gods of marriage (of which there is only One and he cares more about your hearts and what is important to you and Him).

Things that irk me.

I realize that I should be posting something about my amazing fiance and how he proposed and how wonderful it is to know that I will one day take his name and he will one day be my husband and how being engaged to him is the greatest honor in the world.

Well my friends, today is not that day. Today is the day I list off a couple things that have been irking me.

• My name is Sarah. Not Shara, Sahra, Sara, it is Sarah. With the “h” at the end. If I send you an e-mail with my name appearing in the “From:” section that reads “Sarah Wakefield,” end it with “Thanks, Sarah Wakefield.” Have my signature appear at the bottom that reads “Sarah Wakefield.” WHAT PART OF THAT DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND? Why do you send me an e-mail back saying, “Hey Sara….”? I have just spent most of the intro and all of the ending with the “h” attached to the end of my first name. Would you stop using my name in vain?! I just might not respond anymore to people who address me as “Sara.” Do I ever assume that you want me to spell your name any differently than what you have given? Do I take it upon myself to correct you and how you spell your name? Do I think to myself, “Oh, they must have forgotten that Susie is spelled with a ‘z’”? No, I trust that if you are old enough to be working and to be using the computer, you are old enough to know HOW YOU SPELL YOUR NAME!!! Granted when used vocally there is no real tried and true way of determining if they have mentally attached the “h” or not, but that’s not an issue. THE ISSUE IS THIS: when my parents named me before I emerged from the womb, when they then wrote my name on my birth certificate thus determining forever how I should be addressed, they wrote “Sarah” (plus the rest) and they assumed that all who interacted with me on a written level would respect their decision. So yes, that’s what I’m saying. When you knowingly desecrate the spelling of my name, you are knowingly laying insult against my parents.

Great, now you’ve insulted my intelligence and my family.

• YES I want to get married in 3 months. No I do not want to spend my time planning a $30,000 wedding for a year. Don't you realize that the only reason people wait a year is because 1) they don't know if they want to marry that person, 2) they're compensating for years of feeling like they were never their father's princess, 3) they've spent years believing they were a princess and care more about their wedding than investing that time and money in something that will last longer than 6 hours, 4) they're not out of school, 5) that's what everyone else is doing because they are dealing with #'s 1-4 and even 5.
• No, I am not pregnant. No, I have no hidden crimes I am running from. No, I am not an illegal immigrant and thus need a natural born citizen to marry so I might stay in America.
  
• No, I am not rushing him. I am not pushing him into a marriage he does not want. I am not begging to be married right away. We happen to really like each other. We have no reason to wait to get married. It's only going to drive us nuts. Get this: I would much rather get married in City Hall than have an elaborate fest of bows and ribbons and fake ornaments and fake elegant. I want real. He wants real. Together we're planning a very beautiful, very genuine (no curtains to cover up the messy plumbing of the hall, no fancy decorations to pretend it's a party (no one looks at those things in admiration anyway!), very honest wedding. We're signing a covenant between the two of us with our invited guests as witnesses. The covenant is a serious yet celebratory event. Please don't ask me to make my parents pay for something that will not last a lifetime like our marriage will. Flowers wilt, paper disintegrates, ribbons shred, everything gets old. I want to celebrate, I want to rejoice, but I want to do it without creating, without creating the "poser" atmosphere. I want it to be real.

That's all for now.

I'm stepping off my soapbox for a drink. Be back soon. O' wait, announcements and disclaimers.

• I'm engaged!!!!

• I realize that many of you have waited for longer than a year and while school may have not been a factor, something else was. Please know that I respect your decision and am just fired up at all those, Christians and non, who seem so shocked that we're marrying soon. As if we're creating some faux pas. We're a pure, honest, loving couple. We make a great pair. Were we in some sort of world war, waiting 3 weeks would be ridiculous. So back off it, it's nunya. Don't make me go ninja on you. I've about had it. I can't stress enough how irritated I get with people who go on about how long they were engaged, and how fun it was to plan the wedding. Plan the wedding? How about plan your lives together? Who cares about a program? No one is listening to the various instrumental and vocal performers! No one is going to stay in awe of the building you chose any longer than it takes for them to step out of the doors and onto the sidewalk. Your invited guests are there to celebrate sure, but they're not the bride or groom. All I care to do is walk down the aisle, make the covenant with my betrothed, and celebrate. Gussying up a building that I will not look at (as I will be staring intently into my beloved's eyes) for an audience that does not care about the ribbons, bows, flowers, etc, is a waste. I could never do that to my parents. And no, I am not downplaying the importance of a wedding, I'm just questioning and pointing fingers at everything we don't need and everything we do for the sake of appearances.
  

Shew.

Still don't feel like I'm finished, but ol' gal is thirsty.