our engagement

It feels so good -so right -to sit here and write again. I'm dusting off the blog after a couple months of quiet, and goodness am I glad. I felt pulled away from this beloved space for a bit (more on that in a future post) and much has happened in this lapse of time (more on that in this post!). I have been keeping this blog for nearly three years now, and I view it as a sort of keepsake memory box and pilgrim's respite. A place to collect my thoughts on the intricacies of life and faith, yet also a record of my days -my moments- as they unfold. 

As I have asked God to search my heart in recent months, I have grown convicted of my sense of urgency to document every little thing. I am weary of this pattern, striving to better approach presence and privacy. It's a challenge, to find the gentle balance between archiving the days of our precious and undeserved lives - yet also learning to simply savor unfurling memories as we embody them.  

Yet I think of the words of Mary Oliver: 

"Instructions for living a life: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it." 

The past couple months have been ones for paying attention and being astonished (in both beautiful and painful ways). 

And now, I want to tell about it (maybe not all of it - after all, some thoughts and memories ought to simply be bottled up for oneself, kept in a safe place.) But I do want to keep a record of what transpired in the Spring and Summer of 2020 in my neck of the woods. 

That's a long way of saying that I'll keep a more general update for another blog entry, but for now I want to write about what left me most astonished in the stretch of time since my last blogpost. 

Truth be told, it feels like it's still sinking in and I won't ever lose my sense of awe of it all: 

On July 11th 2020, Paul asked me to marry him and I said yes! 

Thank you to our friend Matthew Bender for the beautiful photography!

Lover of writing that I am, I recognize the power of words -how very precious it is to relay events and impressions in ways that invite others into them, to get a taste of their beauty. But some of life's moments are drenched in beauty so poignant that words -even the prettiest prose- will always fail to convey. Such is how I feel about the day we got engaged. 

So I have been bottling it all up, mulling over that day over and over, cherishing every note and good wish. I made sure to take it all in as the moments transpired, promising myself I wouldn’t forget the details that were making up the day he asked me to marry him.

Although my words will never do that day justice - I will (borrowing Oliver's words here) "tell about it" nonetheless. I'd like to think that writing about our engagement is an inheritance, of sorts. As I have jotted down the contents of that day in my journal, a tender thought has brushed up against me: if my someday-children are anything like their mother, they’ll want to know all about how he proposed that July morning. So write I will.

On a sunny Thursday afternoon, I was whiling away in my office and finishing up my workday when Paul arrived at the apartment for a visit. He asked me if I could help him get something out of his car, so I followed him to my front entrance where, lo and behold, my little sister Laurianne was waiting for me! I couldn't quite believe my eyes. The two of them announced this was my birthday surprise. Little did I know, Laurianne had flown in under the mere guise of a birthday surprise, but was really here to take part in our engagement. And I'm ever so glad she was. We spent a couple days traipsing around Vancouver, enjoying much long-awaited sister time.

Admittedly, I asked her the night of her arrival if he planned on proposing over the weekend. After all, she was here and my 24th birthday was coming up. It seemed like the perfect timing and stage for a proposal. She didn't miss a beat, explaining that he had thought of it but wasn't able to get a ring on time and decided to wait. I was understanding but slightly devastated, to say the least. (And, side note: I will never ever trust her ever again.) 

To put you in context, we had been talking about getting engaged for a while but Paul was persistently vague. Candidly, I was starting to lose patience (there, I admitted it). Deep down, though, I knew it was coming - but the mystery of how and when it would all unfold was getting the best of me!

That day, a couple after Laurianne's arrival, we were planning on going out for a birthday breakfast with Elise. She insisted on it being a surprise location that she'd wanted to introduce me to, which I found a little odd but I complied. I'm so glad for conspiring friends who know how to keep a secret, and for Paul who knew to involve my sister and my best friend. 

The clouds were hanging low that Saturday morning. We drove to Granville Island, a spot that is dear to both Paul and I, and all of a sudden the girls stopped in their tracks and said, "Alright, we're going to leave you here now." 

And, in a mere instant, I knew this was the day he would ask me to marry him. 

I can recall my initial confusion and shock when I saw him standing there, and laughter spilling out because the girls had accidentally dropped me off a couple yards too far (they were so overcome with jitters on the way to the proposal location, worried I would see Paul too soon, etc. etc.) and a nervous Paul had to cry out from behind a tree, "Jess! Come this way!"

I just love that part of the story.

So I walked up the winding path at the edge of Granville Island under a canopy of trees, and found him waiting for me there (that is: the rest of my life waiting for me there). So much of it is a wondrous blur -but I remember some details poignantly; like the view of the boats dotting False Creek in the distance, the sound of wind ruffling through trees, the precious sight of cream hydrangeas in a vase and scattered candles and pictures of the life we've been forging together for four years.

He read a letter, got down on one knee, and I said yes -the easiest yes to escape my lips. He slipped a ring on my finger, and later prayed a liturgy he'd been writing for us as we step into this season of life together (I was undone).

The event was in a public space but was wholly private: he proposed on a secluded patch of grass overlooking the harbor, early enough that no onlookers were around. I'm so glad that moment was shared intimately by just him and me. So there we were, newly engaged, so glad and teary, on a hill bathed in dim morning light, under clouds holding the rain real tight (God's doing, I say), with the backdrop of the city we call our home.

Laurianne, Elise and two friends (who'd helped Paul with pictures and setup) ran out from hiding spots a while later, greeting us with a flurry of hugs and congratulations that lasted all the way through breakfast at Nemesis, a local favorite of ours. I was still utterly twitterpated about it all - and I'm sure I made little to no sense in conversation, unable to string a single sentence together.

Just when I thought the day couldn't get any better, Laurianne thrust a bag into my hands that she'd packed for my next pit stop with Paul. The two of us bundled into the car and drove through the mountains all the way to Whistler, where he'd planned a day at the spa for us. It was so precious -so needed- to have some time alone with him after the proposal. We cherished that stretch of time to respire deeply, and take it all in.

We drove, happy as can be, as fog rolled over mountains of hemlock and cedar and fir. I kept looking down at the ring on my finger, designed by my fiancé (!!!), in awe. We called loved ones scattered near and far, announcing our happy news. Although we celebrated well over the phone, it was hard being far from my parents' on such an important day in my life. But I rejoice in the knowledge that their embrace and further festivities in person await us soon. 

Then, phones were turned off for the rest of the drive, and there was nothing but the Howe Sound and music and each other. Once at the spa, we rested and reveled and basked in the glory of being together as a newly engaged couple. There was soft rainfall, communion & prayers as we prepare for marriage, spirited conversation, Lee's donuts, Moscow mules and margaritas, and repeating over and over, we're engaged! 

I held his hand on the winding drive to his parents’ home, where an engagement party was being held that night with our small village of dear friends. His mama prepared the most beautiful celebration, complete with charcuterie and cake and our favorite pie, and a bounty of cards and flowers and local brews and champagne. We shared our engagement story with everyone as we were still living it. We laughed a whole lot and beamed at the reminder that we are so loved by our people, and each other.

The weekend was momentous on a panoply of fronts: the beginnings of a hope chest, being gifted heirloom earrings his mother had been keeping “for the girl he’d one day marry,” celebrating more the next morning with friends, an afternoon by the pool, dreaming up wedding dates, my sweet cousin’s tears and a posy of roses for drying, Chambar's choux à la crème on the house (a perk of being engaged, I hear), Kits beach and ramen for my birthday, listening to him explain how he designed the ring, calling him my fiancé, calling him my husband-to-be.

I scarcely use the word “perfect”, but how else could I remember the day that marks the beginning of the rest of my life?

The weeks since he proposed have been nothing short of wonderful - a swirl of happy tears and sweet celebration. They have been days so drenched in joy and love and wonder-a family engagement dinner, congratulatory mail and calls and messages, booking tickets to Montréal for September, popping a bottle of champagne with friends, researching venues and color palettes, envisioning our big day and our life together, praying about the kind of husband and wife we want to be. These are days we had imagined, dreamed of, hoped for. They're an answered and lived prayer. Thanks be to God. 

The past four years have held many joys, blessings, trials, learning curves, questions, and memories -but if they have convinced me of anything it's this: I want nothing more than a life with him.

The boy I had a blooming crush on in Germany five years ago will be my husband. What a (precious, humbling, astonishing) thought.