Why Valentine's Day is always early at our house

Twenty-one years ago today, my husband asked me to marry him. Poor guy. I've never made it easy on him.

We were both poor college students and had talked about getting married, but our economic status did not seem favorable. February 9th was a Sunday that year. We had gone to church with his parents in the evening and were about to head on back to campus when he insisted we stop at their house for a while. This was a bit irritating to me. I was tired and probably had some studying to do. To make matters worse, his parents dropped us off and said they needed to get gas. I didn't understand their urgency (I would later) and in my mind this was only going to delay our departure, further aggravating me. We walked into their house and I headed straight for their couch, literally letting my body fall face first into it, hoping they would hurry so we could say our proper goodbyes and be on our way.

A short time later, Kevin was leaning down next to my head saying, "Tami, will you marry me?"

I thought this was another one of those times we dreamed about the day we could finally get married, all talk with no resolution in sight. Without even looking at him, my face buried in the couch, I said, "I am REALLY NOT in the mood for this tonight."

"No, really," he said, "I've got a ring and everything."

Needless to say, my mood drastically changed.

And here we are, twenty-one years later. I'm better. He's better. WE'RE better. God is so good.

Thanks for your patience with my ever changing moods, honey, both then and now. And thanks for asking. I've never regretted saying yes. I'll always love you.


Photo courtesy of DJOtaku.