25 years ago today, I woke up for the very first time with an engagement ring on my finger. The night before, C took me to his parents' hunting land near Waco for our first date in awhile, ostensibly to celebrate Valentines' Day early. Both he and his family had tricked me into thinking that we wouldn't be getting engaged anytime soon so I was truly surprised. He brought chicken and chips and a pan of brownies he had made himself. After we ate supper, he brought me the pan of brownies which I opened to find--tah dah!--the black velvet box with my ring inside (and a hardback copy of Improving Your Serve by Chuck Swindoll which he put in the brownie pan to weight it down and fool me into thinking it really was a pan of brownies but which was truly confusing to me for several seconds as I figured out what was happening. And now, as I think about it, was wonderful foreshadowing of our life together . . . hmmmm . . . ) I cried and cried and nodded "yes" and then we drove to see some long-married friends of mine in a nearby town to show it off. I remember sitting in a large lecture class, staring at my ring, thinking, "I'm getting married" and waiting for the reality of it to sink in. I've said it a million times: we were so young and so stupid and God was so good.