Luke and I met the first week of College; both of us had just come back from taking gap years living abroad (I in Nicaragua, the Philippines, and Malawi; Luke in Hawaii and South Africa). I refused to wear shoes to class, and was at a place in my life where I thought I was going to be single forever, hated men, and never wanted to get married.
Luke held the door for me my first time entering one of our school buildings, and said “nice shoes.”
I wasn’t wearing shoes.
I instantly knew I was going to marry him, and I froze, staring open-mouthed at the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. I said nothing. He walked away.
A month or two later, I went up to him and said “The Jesus in me wants to know the Jesus in you.” He stared at me, open-mouthed, and said nothing. This time, I walked away.
Three months later, we had starting going on dates.
Three months after that, in May, he asked me to be his girlfriend.
February 21, he asked me to be his wife.
how they asked: Our Church was having a huge conference with tons of people, and we were there super late on Saturday night. I was tired, and cranky, and it had taken us over forty five minutes to get there in the first place because it was snowing and the roads weren’t plowed. Luke had brought his guitar with because he “needed to let a friend of ours borrow it”, and of course I believed him.
As we started to drive home, Luke “because of the snow” missed the really easy turn onto the highway that would take us home.
And I. Was. Pissed.
“You big idiot! Now we’re lost. We’re never going to get home. It’s going to take forever!” I raged, to the pale-faced, mellow man in the driver’s seat.
We drove for a long time, in a direction I thought was back towards our college and pulled into a park. There is a park decently near where we go to school, so I thought we were there and he was cutting through in order to get back to school faster.
We pulled up next to a pond and a pavilion, all gently draped in a two-foot thick untouched layer of snow. It was glistening as gently flakes continued to fall, and I started to get suspicious.
Luke pulled his guitar out of the backseat (I was a little confused as I thought he had lent it to a friend of ours) and started playing a song and singing. None of this was unusual, because Luke and I are very unusual. I shrugged my shoulders, accepted the fact we were obviously on an adventure, and started drawing on the condensation of the Jeep’s windows.
I didn’t catch the words of the song until about halfway through; and I realized that it was written about me, by Luke.
We got out of the car to pee in the snow, in our typical bohemian fashion, and began to trudge into the beautifully snowflake encrusted woods holding hands.
Luke was being really awkward; he kept stopping abruptly and shuffling along, all the while I’m going on about “I wonder if there’s foxes in here? Foxes are cute. I wonder how Samson caught all those foxes and lit their tails on fire?”; basically, every odd thing under the sun was spilling out of my mouth in an unstoppable fashion.
Luke stopped and grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me to face him.
“You know that song I just sang?”
“Yes. You just sang it…”
“God gave me that song.”
“That was pretty cool of Him.”
“He told me it was for you.”
“Wow! That’s so awesome!”
“And then He told me that I’m for you.”
Luke dropped down on his knees in the snow, and nervously asks “Caitlinn Renee Curry, will you marry me?”
I, of course, started bawling my eyes out and screaming yes, and Luke is crying and has me entrapped in a bear hug while he’s simultaneously trying to pull my ring out of his pocket, the ring I didn’t care if he had or not because I have him.
Engagement Photo by Julie Floro