When I was around 16 years old, for Father's Day, I couldn't think of what to give dad. I was thinking a lot about dating and courting (lots of families we knew preferred for their kids to court which basically means to date with the purpose of marrying rather than more casually). I finally decided that I would give dad a key symbolizing the key to my heart. I searched all over town and finally found a pretty key on a key chain.
Along with the key, as my I wrote a letter explaining that dad should keep the key until a man was found who met certain qualities that I wanted in a husband, loyal, trustworthy, etc. Through the years, I've wondered if Dad still had it, still felt it was his, still expected to be asked to relinquish it to a suitor, did I still feel that way?
Dad, indeed, still had the key and when Joshua appeared in my life back in March, I mentioned needing to find it and it was clear that Dad still held the key and treasured it. So, when Joshua and I started talking about marriage, I told him that he'd need to ask Dad for not only my hand but the key to my heart as well.
Back in September, Joshua mentioned that he'd like for both of us to travel to Texas to ask dad, and I'd planned to go, but in the end, Joshua went while I was on a business trip and braved that undoubtedly nerve wracking conversation, made only more so because of the key, all by himself. He is a prince.
1 comment:
I remember my ring. the first time my husband slipped it on to my finger and the power, the weight of that joyous commitment became clear to the world. While that ring was recently stolen, I remember watching as it became nicked, scratched, and when in need of cleaning, tarnished. Chad held my hand up to look at it one day and said, "wow, we need to get you a new ring." No way! While the band did sparkle and gleam more when it was new, I can not tell you how much affection you will feel for that ring as it becomes more weightless on your hand. Every scratch is another day spent as one.
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