When I walked up to the pulpit at First Baptist Church of Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin, on Sunday morning, I had a secret agenda of which only the pastor and I knew.
I did want to thank the church for helping me out of a financial crisis last month, and that was a sincere thank you.
But I also had a little box in my pocket.
I’ve felt blessed from the moment I first walked into that church alone, not long after my beloved Cj (aka Red) passed, but you have no idea how humbled and grateful I am after last month.
The fact is that I would not have asked for the church’s help. I let my pride get in the way — “I can figure this out,” I told Mary, but she saw the situation with clearer eyes than I did.
“She saw that I was drowning, so she called her deacon — and her deacon called me — and before I knew it, the deacons had voted to pull me to shore,” I told the congregation.
I urged everyone, in times of trouble, not to be afraid to ask for help. That’s why churches have a Helping Hand fund.
Then I sort of changed the subject.
“You may have noticed I’ve grown pretty fond of Mary,” I said, which got a laugh. Mary and I light up in each other’s presence; I think it’s pretty obvious we adore each other.
“This is my third Christmas without Cj. The first two were pretty lonely. Red’s family has embraced me with love, but the loss of a soul mate is a lonely and devastating life event,” I said. (My laptop had autocorrected and I told them my paper actually said “cellmate,” which drew a few more chuckles.)
By the way, I told those sitting in the church with their own soul mates to cherish every precious moment they have with theirs — please!
“I was content to live what’s left of my life with those memories to support me, but I guess God had other ideas,” I said.
“Little did I know that Mary was also lonely — and she prayed for someone to provide some comfort and companionship — and God showed her a guy with a guitar in the back of the worship team.
“I don’t deserve to have found a second soulmate. I have found a joy as enormous as the enormous hurt of loss — and I cherish every precious moment that I spend with this woman.
“She has been everything I could have asked for,” I said, and I stepped away from the pulpit and started walking toward where Mary was sitting near the front. I’m told the ladies in the congregation gave a collective gasp as they realized what I was doing.
As I approached Mary, I reached in my pocket for the little box with the ring, and told her, on my knee, “That’s why I asked for permission to ask you, in front of our church family, for the privilege of being your husband.”
I have never tried to pull a surprise marriage proposal, and Mary tells me she has never been so surprised in her life, and I have to tell you, seeing the look on her face was one of the sweetest feelings of my life.
The why’s and the wherefores still need to be worked out, but our hope is to formalize this partnership sometime in the near future. The roomful of smiles and well wishes made me glad I shared the moment with my whole church family.
The Christmas season is already about hope, grace and a future. This Christmas is promising to be all of that and more.
