Scott went to the church to sign up for this important ministry, and when he came home he was as white as a ghost. “We have to get married!” he huffed.
“What? We’ve been married for thirty-two years,” I reminded him.
“In order to serve Communion at church, I have to have all of my sacraments in order. We didn’t get married in the Catholic church. We need to get married.”
“Oh, I think we need a wedding,” I told him smiling. I found this all incredibly amusing. My first question was, “When do you plan to propose?”
My son’s girlfriend declared, “Anne, this could be your big chance to escape!”
“Very funny,” Scott smirked.
“I’m serious. I have so much planning to do,” I chuckled. “Bridesmaids, flowers, and where shall we go on our honeymoon?” He started squirming. I totally enjoyed watching this.
“Anne, this isn’t funny! We have to go to classes and get married again for real,” he said, as he wiped his brow. Was that a bead of sweat on his forehead?
Later that evening, Scott’s cell phone rang. It was our son, Justin. “Dad, does this make us illegitimate?” I could hear Justin laughing hysterically on the phone. He offered to call his brothers and sisters to inform them of this new development.
“I’ll take some pressure off you, Dad. I’ll make the calls.”
That night I asked, “Why is this so frightening to you? We’ve been married for thirty-two years.”
He thought and thought, and finally he said, “I don’t want to jinx what we have.”
That was not the answer I expected.
He did surprise me with a heart-touching proposal. I came home from work and he handed me a glass of champagne. He said, “Sit down. I have something to read to you.” I had no idea what he was planning. He pulled out an envelope and read me the sweetest proposal. It went something like this:
“I am looking at a beautiful girl who I think I might ask to marry me.” He proceeded to list the things he wondered when he proposed the first time.
“Would we have a happy, laughter-filled life?
Would we make a nice family together?
Would we always be so much in love?
Would we help each other through tough times?
Would we stay close, as we grew older together?
Would we be soul mates forever?”
And the list went on. The last part of the letter read, “I think I’m going to ask her to marry me.”
I didn’t need the dress, the flowers, or the honeymoon. I just needed to marry this man, who I love so much, one more time. I had tears in my eyes as I whispered softly, “Yes!”
I love this guy. It will be thirty-nine years this month.