Mt. Helena

When the time came to ask Kristin to marry me, my plan was foolproof. I would surprise her at the top of Mount Helena with the picturesque valley below. The mountain prominently dominates the city skyline, so she would never forget where and when she was proposed to. Visions about how magical this moment would be had swirled in my head for months. My proposal would grandly and eloquently declare my everlasting love, dedication, joy and anticipation about our future lifetime together.

So up the mountain we went for a hike on what I decided would be The Day. She was almost totally oblivious. The closer we got to the top of the mountain, the harder the butterflies started banging around in my stomach. At the top, I got down into the rocks on one knee, and reached into the backpack for the ring. I looked up at her, popped open the ring box, summoned all my courage, and with heart-felt conviction said . . . . . said . . . . . said . . . . . “Ghklfh-phdwtfff . . . gack!” She snatched the ring before I keeled over, jammed the ring on her finger, and said yes before I could do any more damage to my larynx.

Thank goodness she knew what my actions meant, even though I said nothing. Nothing coherent anyway. But as Paul stated, “good deeds are obvious” (1 Timothy 5:25), meaning that no words are necessary when you are doing the right thing out of love. So when we get stuck wondering about how best to serve Christ or to love our neighbors, “let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth” (1 John 3:18). Our deeds and actions will tell people plenty, even if we don’t speak a word. Since 1999, I’ve had a wedding ring as proof.