Engaged

So twenty years ago was one of our official starts of our life together.  (I’m the least sentimental person I know, so Todd’s the one who reminded me.  I don’t remember these kinds of dates.  I don’t even remember when my babies were supposed to be due or how much most of them weighed.)  But President’s Day last month Todd mentioned that he’d proposed 20 years ago.  The day was fading over Sunset Cliffs in San Diego.  You’ve read our story, it wasn’t a surprise.  He could only afford a band, but I loved that he knew me well enough to get white gold.  We hung out on the beach for awhile, I guess contemplating what we’d just done. We were 22.  So young.  Fearless, innocent, optimistic, in love.  Who really knows what they’re doing when they’re 22? Did we have any idea the commitment we’d just agreed to?  Maybe that’s part of it though, not knowing much at all but being willing to face the open future together, whatever that turned out to be.

We knew we’d be finishing up at BYU, then we’d move to whatever vet school would take him.  We assumed we’d have kids—we talked about 5 or 6.  You make plans and then plan on being flexible when things change or don’t pan out.   So that’s how we approached our future together.

I love the term engaged.  It makes me think of intertwined, wrapped, present, in the moment, committed, enthusiastic, bound.

It’s a different stage because you have made a decision to stop looking at the possibilities around you and start looking at the possibilities in front of you; you close your eyes to everyone else and shut them out as potentials.  You move forward as a team of two.  It’s an intimate period where you’ve taken a step out of the dating world and into a new realm of commitment.  A step beyond boy-girlfriend.  More meaningful.  There’s even a ring to prove your devotion.

The time when a couple’s engaged seems to be full of excitement, anticipation, long walks and late talks, shared goals, heart-to-heart intimacies, small loving gestures, meaningful kisses, all that’s paraded in Valentine’s Day ads.  Sometimes marriages lose that spark.  I’d say it at least fades a bit, and to some extent that’s to be expected; who could sustain a life on so little sleep?  No one can live like that forever.  Well, not exactly like that anyway.

What happens when you ask a new couple you’re just getting to know how long they’ve been together, how they met?  They kind of look at each other.  Usually they smile.  Instantly, they’re almost young again.  Memories titillate their senses, and they’re more or less there, the youthful version of themselves, falling in love all over again.  I love, love, love it.  Yeah, I’ve had some awkward times when I’ve asked that question.  One couple was on the brink of divorce when I’d asked.  Another woman, when I surmised that she must love being married, admitted that she didn’t really, her husband drank too much.  Sad.  But for the most part, what I said is true.  Usually it’s fun to watch them relive the falling in love time, to see them remember being the olden days and what it was like to be vibrantly in love.  I love hearing their stories.

So why do the feelings have to fade, even dissipate?  I know that eventually you do have to sleep more than four hours, you can’t spend every paycheck eating at nice restaurants with flowers in hand, you can’t put off real life indefinitely.  I get it.  But think of the times when you made some semblance of effort as you would have back when you were engaged.  A date you changed out of jeans and the shirt with all the flour on it for.  A small bouquet from the garden.  A text in the middle of the day.  A secret lunch meeting.  Late talks in bed.  Without having to go to your separate apartments.  Just like back when you were engaged, when you felt connected and totally committed. 

I wonder if we could re-visit the time we became engaged, what it would do to remember what it felt like, what we felt like.  How would it enhance what we have now?  A *wise man surmised that the word remember could be one of the most important words in the dictionary.  I think that is how we remain bound and intertwined regardless of how the world tries to tear us apart, and we can apply this to marriages, families, friendships, any of our relationships we value or at least valued at one time.  We can relish memories as we’re making them, in part because we recognize how meaningful they will be to us in the future.  (Not only that, but we’ve talked about how much better it is to just embrace our days than to wish parts of them away.)  We can remember the energy we invested in one another and the relationship.  We remember to be our best selves, just like we used to.  We remember what brought us together.  We remember that what we’re doing is important, that it matters, that it’s worth working on.  We remember that time when we became and were engaged.  And we re-engage.

*President Spencer W. Kimball, Circles of Exaltation [address to religious educators, Brigham Young University, 28 June 1968], 8.