Overlooked

No matter what I tried, the lump only grew larger. My shoulders ached and my eyes burned. How can I possibly get through this day? I was panicking. Tim broke into the silence. “You want to stop at one of the overlooks?”

Yes. Please stop. Please. I need out. I need air. “Sure.” I replied half-heartedly.

We pulled into the gravel parking pad at a more or less unoccupied look-out point. I got out of the truck and sucked in as deep a breath as I could hold. I was overcome. Just a few yards ahead was a step down to a large boulder. “I’m gonna go a little closer for a second.” I told Tim, praying he wouldn’t follow me. Now, I realize that standing on a rock overlooking a drop off when you are already somewhat dizzy with emotion may not be the wisest choice; but I had to have a moment alone. I needed to let just a few tears fall. Not enough to open the flood gates but enough to let the pressure off of the tap, so to speak.

Tim made no move to join me and I was so thankful. When I finally felt that I could look him in the eye without falling apart. I turned and headed back up to where he was leaning on the truck. When I reached him, he grabbed me and held me. Great. More hugging. Again my emotions surged. Swallow it. Swallow it. Then all the sudden I heard something I was not expecting at all. Singing. He was singing to me.

There’s a Steven Curtis Chapman song called “Go There with You.” (click here for lyrics) It was a favorite of ours and basically speaks of love that goes the distance. As he poured out the words with the voice that I had fallen in love with years earlier, I unleashed the swell and let the tears pour. And when he dropped to one knee, popped open the ring case, and asked in a cracking voice that betrayed his own emotions: “Amie Harrington, will you marry me?” I bawled like a baby. In fact, he had to confirm that the tears represented a “yes” response.

Oh my heavens, what a moment! It was like climbing off of an insane roller coaster –I was slightly weak-kneed but otherwise exhilarated.

Turns out, Tim had fully intended to propose while at the chapel but I wasn’t the only one churning butter in the pit of my stomach that day. The boy was scared to death. While lying in the grass by that pond he had been fighting the urge to throw up. It’s crazy to think that we had each spent the whole day wallowing in private misery.

We grabbed a couple of sodas from the cooler and started the trip back home. I was elated. Giddy. Relieved. Then suddenly very cold –I have no idea how it happened (though I’m willing to bet it had something to do with trying to open a can of pop while maneuvering my newly adorned ring finger to give off the greatest sparkle) but I dumped an entire can of Sprite in my lap. I was soaked through. Tim pulled off to the side of the road and I grabbed an extra pair of shorts and the blanket we had used for our picnic from the truck box. While driving down the interstate and under the cover of the blanket, I proceeded to change from drenched jeans to dry clothes.

Tim, at least feigning focusing on the road ahead said, “If I’d known putting a ring on your finger would finally get you out of your pants, I’d have done it a long time ago.” We laughed and speculated as to whether anyone else would believe my explanation for leaving in one set of clothes and returning in another. But of course, you believe me…right?