Pre-wedding life is chock-full with tasks. Today, as I sit at my desk, staring at my chalkboard, a hideous yellow sticky note stares back at me.

“Get Pants Altered,” it reads. Such a task sounds simple: 1. Drive down the road. 2. Enter Diane’s Alterations. 3. Change into your wedding pants. 4. Let Diane measure you. 5. Change back into your Friday pants.
6. Establish a pickup time. 7. Peace out.

Yet, for some reason, it’s little tasks like getting my pants altered that are the most dreadful to me. Oil changes, closet tidy-ups, and bill paying sessions exasperate me like no other. Thus, I disdain to-do lists. (Bad news for a soon-to-be-married guy).

Everything preceding the “I do” of a wedding can be summed up by the words “to do.” I don’t like the “to do”–– even though a lot of the “to do” is “she do.” I’m just ready for “I do” after all of this “to do.” (Just get me on my honeymoon, riding a “Sea Doo”).

Here’s a sampling of the to-do list that my fiancé Bethany and I need to fulfill:

1. Get wedding bands
2. Find caterer
3. Book hotel for April 18
4. Getaway car?
5. Reception music
6. Decide order of ceremony
7. Write vows
8. Make reservation for rehearsal dinner
9. Find [cool] envelopes for invitations
10. Find [cool] stamps for invitations
11. Send invitations
12. Get info on marriage license
13. Get pants altered
14. Coordinate groomsmen accommodation
15. Purchase groomsmen favors
16. Follow-up with florist girl
17. Get flower girl (any of you attendees have a cute daughter we don’t know about?)
18. Land health insurance policy
19. Buy LadyComp (Didn’t feel like giving a link. Maybe the Google can help you out.)
20. Create budget

I timed myself as I made that list. It took approximately 2 minutes and 20 seconds–– all off the top of my head. Without doubt, there are many, many more tasks to be filled outside of the above list. And I don’t like that.

Anyway, I should run out and get my pants altered before Bethany finds out I’ve yet to do so.

For the “I do,”

Jules

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Well, as it turns out, I had an extremely busy weekend and was unable to get my extraordinary moment of December written out.

For those of you that are new, I’ve been documenting last year through a series called “Nine Extraordinary Moments of 2009.” Everything from broken down U-Hauls to raging soldiers to harsh boy-girl shutdowns have been covered. It was an [extraordinary] year–– what can I say?

My November moment, in case you missed it, was the story of receiving my future father-in-law’s approval for marriage to his daughter. Fittingly, December’s moment will be the story of receiving that daughter’s approval for marriage. Here’s how it went down:

9. December; Glendale, Arizona.

On Christmas Eve morning, I boarded a plane that was headed for Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport. This was completely unbeknownst to Bethany, who was becoming increasingly upset at the [seeming] reality that we’d be spending Christmas apart.

Leading up to Christmas Eve, I was experiencing a strange dichotomy. As we’d talk on the phone, text message, and iChat, Bethany was becoming increasingly upset with us being apart during the holidays. While I, too, missed her, I found myself excited to see how clueless she was concerning my plan. I had been lying to her and misleading her for over a month and it all seemed to be working, as displayed by her behavior. If she only knew that in a matter of days we’d be engaged, her behavior would be much less sorrowful and much more excited.

When I exited the airplane, Bethany’s best friend Siobhan picked me up. The two of us then found a ring box (sorry for the blurriness and creepy green eyes) and prepared for the big moment ahead.

Perfectly in sync with my plan, earlier that day, Bethany requested that her family take family photos at dusk. While they were gone taking photos, Siobhan dropped me, my bags, and a special book at the Miller house, where I’d wait to propose.

Now, the special book that I carried with me that day was a quintessential part of my plan. It was a scrapbook-esque chronicle of our relationship to date with lots of journalish writing. The book was originally one of Bethany’s birthday presents to me and, to this point, had been entirely assembled by her. My plan, which I had conceived just days before, was to make a page in the book that would chronicle the event of our engagement as if it was a past event. On the page, I’d tell Bethany the story of my talk with her dad, getting her ring (a long story for another day), scheming with her mom (who was, obviously, incredibly supportive and helpful throughout), lying to her, and being picked up by Siobhan. The page concluded saying, “You read this page for the
first time ever. You then found me in your backyard and accepted my marriage proposal.”

After the family arrived home, Bethany’s mom retrieved the book from a predetermined spot and told Bethany that it was an early Christmas present from me. Then, Bethany opened the book, flipped to the last page, and went into shock. There was no way that the page told the truth, she reasoned. Absolutely no way. Just an hour before, I had sent her a picture of my little sister and I making Christmas cards (it was actually a picture taken the day before of us working on the scrapbook page). And, earlier that afternoon, I had complained to her of the traffic my brother, dad, and I were experiencing as we did last minute Christmas shopping and how our family was debating whether or not to go to Christmas Eve service (both blatant lies).

However, after a tear-filled delay (tears of joy, of course), she followed my instructions and found me in her backyard, smiling. *Beaming. And she walked toward me smiling, but embarrassed from her crying. Because of the book, she knew what was next. We chatted for a minute before I did it–– I bent my knee (you ladies often want to know this piece of information) and asked Bethany to marry me.

She said “yes.”

The few hours which followed the event were some of my favorite of 2009. Bethany’s mom offered us, who were both still slightly shocked by the whole thing, her car to spend a few moments alone. So, we drove around looking at Christmas lights, entirely pleasant. Each time I looked at her that night, my heart  swelled with excitement–– this was the beginning of all that lay ahead.

wwww

A picture taken right after the proposal on Christmas Eve.

So, there you have it. That was my year. Do you feel like we spent it together? I wish it had been a bit more exciting, but I’m impressed you read about it anyway.

_

___________

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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8. November; Tempe, Arizona.

I spent Thanksgiving 2009 in Arizona with Bethany’s family. It was only my second time ever spending Thanksgiving away from my family. But it was awesome–– 75 degrees, sunny, and tasty. And I had fun getting to know more of Bethany’s family members.

Prior to leaving for the trip, Bethany was unsure as to how I’d spend the day after Thanksgiving. For the last several years, the ladies in Bethany’s family bond through venturing out for [in]famous Black Friday shopping. As for how I’d end up spending the day, I had intent. Ambitious intent.

That morning, I woke up early, made coffee, and chatted with Scott–– Bethany’s dad.

[A few words to describe Bethany's dad: tender, quirky, firefighter, mustache, thin, vitamin, organic, hiking].

The two of us then spent a couple of hours in the family’s prayer room streaming an IHOP set (which is now free to do). I spent a lot of this time praying about what was to follow…

We set out to run some errands, planning to finish our time out with lunch at a place Scott frequently raved about, due to its all-natural, organic, and local menu. After our errands–– to some pretty hectic places, mind you–– and quite a bit of time sitting in traffic, we headed for Tempe, the home of Arizona State University. Tempe is also the home of the delicious Essence Bakery, the lunch place that Scott acclaimed so highly.

My intent, my ambitious intent, for the meal was to ask Mr. Miller for his blessing on Bethany and I getting married. Such had been my plan for quite some time. And so it was that, as we approached the restaurant, the cocoons in my stomach hatched and multitudes of nerve-carrying butterflies were released. This was it.

We sat down, and I began to rehearse my lines in my head.

[Ironically, much like the table in front of me at The Roasterie is rehearsing their lines for a play. Except, they're rehearsing without restraint, and with no regard for those around them. Thanks, Theatre Club–– I hope your booster program does well this year so you can afford a facility for rehearsal. Maybe?]

“Mr. Miller, the last seven months of my life have been wonderful, amazing, incredible, magnificent.” Fail. Too cliché. Too fake.

“Mr. Miller, I’ve really enjoyed getting to know your family and I’ve fallen in love with them and I was wondering if maybe you’d let me be a part of it. I’d like to marry your daughter.” Wrong again. Too rehearsed.

“Mr. Miller, can I marry your daughter please?” Closer. Better. But too abrupt.

After a few rounds of such rehearsals, I decided that I should stop before I lost my mind. So I set a timetable for my delivery. When the food came, I thought, I’d man up and ask. A dozen bites of my Mediterranean Roasted Vegetable sandwich later, I gulped big and began.

“Um,” I graciously introduced my question, “I’ve been trying to think of a fancy way to say this all day, but I don’t know if I need to use eloquence. I was wondering if I could officially have your blessing to marry Bethany.” My voice was shaky . My hands and legs were too.

What happened next is the extraordinary part of the moment. Mr. Miller paused, finished his bite, and leaned forward. “Absolutely,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye and grin on his face.

The conversation which followed was so unusual, so extraordinary that I considered celebrating Thanksgiving all over again. The man I could now confidently refer to as my ‘future father-in-law’ drenched me in affirmation. He spoke of how much he loved me. How much he trusted me. How excited he was for me. And how he earnestly wished to help me in whatever way he could–– even offering his class ring to be used for the gold in Bethany’s engagement ring.

Later, we talked about potential wedding dates, children, adoption, and where to raise a family. It was awesome.

December’s extraordinary moment is next. You may (or may not) know what it is… If you guess correctly, I’ll enter you into a drawing for a $10 iTunes gift card*. Seriously.

*Anyone can guess, even if you know it. If you guess correctly, I’ll put your name in the drawing. Your last chance to guess is Friday by Noon EST. The drawing will take place over the weekend. Holler.

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5. April; Kansas City, Missouri.

The above text messaging conversation is a specimen of my relationship, or lack thereof, with my fiancé just nine months ago. At the time, I was tirelessly striving to spend as much time as possible with her, despite her failure to reciprocate the effort. One of my chief tactics was to find a mutual friend who would join the two of us for coffee. The occasion was always intimate, but not too intimate.

On April 22, 2009, the day I had the above conversation via text message, Bethany and I were planning to go get coffee with our friend Deyvid Lam (we’ve now learned how to properly spell his name, as you can see). I had organized the afternoon get-together. However, when Deyvid went M.I.A. things went downhill.

Bethany texted me to confirm the day’s plans which, at the moment, were unconfirmed. I didn’t foresee the lack of decidedness in our plans as an issue when I received Bethany’s text message. With Deyvid’s presence yet assured, I was more than open to a one-on-one with the girl I had liked and sought after for months. In fact, I even considered initiating a D.T.R. conversation that day. Bethany foresaw things differently.

“I’m not hugely down to go if it’s just us,” she wrote, heartlessly. The message was a clear indicator of her lack of interest in sharing one-on-one time with me. Never before had Bethany shut me down so explicitly. This was a brazen act. She knew what she was doing and she wasn’t going to second guess herself.

As harmless and ordinary as the above text messaging conversation may seem, in the moment it proved to be quite pivotal. After Bethany made her intentions clear, it was up to me to decide whether or not I should persevere in my pursuit of her–– the pursuit I had conducted for the previous few months. Bethany’s behavior made her attitude toward the prospect of us plain–– she wasn’t interested. Was it time to quit? I pondered this question for no more than an afternoon (an afternoon spent golfing on an unkempt golf course with my shirt off to relieve the frustration).

The next day I was back at it. Text messages, coffee-date planning and all. I reciprocated her clear intentions with some of my own. I refused to lose.

Though I was prepared to fight for her well into 2010, within a month Bethany and I were an item. And soon, a few days shy of a year since the dreadful text messaging conversation, we’ll be getting married. It’s funny how quickly tables can turn. Jesus is a good leader.

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