News Flash -- Size DOES NOT Matter

Recently my friend, Kim, posted about how she and her husband Mark became engaged. Reading that story reminded me that Mike and I also got engaged around this time of year and I had a desire to write our own engagement story down so future generations could read about how selfish and materialistic their great-aunt Amy was in her younger days. Seriously, I'm scared that no one will want to be friends with me after they read this.

Mike and I met in late fall of 1997. By that next spring, we knew we were going to get married. It would be several more months (December 1998) before we would become "officially" engaged. Mike was teaching at the time, living in Longview, Washington and I was living and working in Portland. We spent the majority of our free time driving back and forth to be with the other one, and we had no desire to live together before we got married. We tentatively planned a wedding for June of 1999, a couple of weeks after Mike finished up his school year. Meanwhile, my sister, Julia, was planning to leave on a church mission in December, and I had a strong desire to get engaged before she left, as I knew she wouldn't be around for the wedding. We started looking at rings in the fall, but Mike never got serious about actually buying one. I figured if this engagement was ever going to happen before my sister left (heaven forbid we get married without me having a diamond on my finger) I would have to get the ball rolling by just picking out something and sending him to go buy it.

One evening Mike showed up at my apartment just as I was about to head out to go shopping. One of my intended stops was The Shane Company, you know my "friend in the diamond business", to look at rings by myself and see if it was worth bringing Mike there at a later date. I told Mike my plans, thinking he wouldn't want to go, but he was interested. It was a really nice place, but I had difficulty describing what I wanted to the sales lady. I really wanted a diamond band that would serve as the engagement ring, that would match with a wedding band that would sit behind it. The woman didn't know what I was talking about, so she showed us some wedding sets. I knew I wanted white gold or two-tone, so that narrowed my selection. After trying on a couple, she had me try on a very simple set with a very small accent diamond on either side of the center diamond. The band kind of swirled around the three diamonds. I thought it was really pretty and Mike was like, "Let's get it." Inside I was thinking that there was no way I was ready to just go ahead and pick something -- usually I need to shop at 100 places before I am ready to decide -- but I also wanted to jump on the opportunity of getting this accomplished. Mike paid for the set and set an appointment to come back in a couple of days to select the diamond that would go in the center. On that day we were already in Beaverton shopping, so I dropped him off, and my last words to him were, "Please make it big." We had discussed many times how much I wanted a largish diamond, at least three-quarters of a carat, more than anything else in the whole world. I picked him up an hour later, the deal being done, and he put the paperwork in the glove box of his car. He could pick up the ring later in the week.

This is where it gets embarrassing. Later that evening, we were at his apartment grading papers, Mike decided to take a shower before we went out to dinner. Suddenly I had the thought that I could go and peek at the paperwork in his car to get an idea of what my ring was going to look like. So, like a four-year-old child, I crept out to his car, opened the glove box, and scanned the paperwork. All I saw was this: Total Carat Weight - .47. I burst into tears. Looking back, I just can't believe what a brat I was. After a minute, I wiped my eyes, picked myself up and went inside, promising myself that I would never let Mike know that I had peeked, and that I would be happy with what he picked out. After five minutes of being inside, Mike asked me what was wrong (I must not have been doing a good job of hiding my disappointment), and I told him that I was just depressed about having to go back to work the next day. Five minutes after that Mike said, "You looked, didn't you?" Mortified, I admitted what I had done and burst into tears (again). He started explaining all over the place that he just didn't feel like it was good to start out a marriage in debt, and that he thought we should get something more affordable, and that it was a perfect diamond, no flaws, and it looked so pretty, etc. I tried to say it was okay, but I just felt so sad that I would have what I thought was a small diamond for the rest of my life.

On the night that Mike was going to pick up the finished ring, we made a date to meet at our favorite restaurant, Pasta Veloce, so that he could give it to me. I got there first and waited for Mike for almost thirty minutes before he arrived. I had been anticipating getting my ring all week, and despite being sad at its size, I was really excited to finally wear it, be "officially" engaged, and show it to people. Anyway, when Mike got there he was in a horrid mood because he had had to sit in traffic for more than an hour to get the ring and get back to downtown Portland to meet (think 217/1-5 interchange). I had to wait for what seemed like forever before he would get it out and show it to me. He was right, the ring was very pretty. I was thrilled to put it on and couldn't stop looking at it.

I have worn this ring for about eight years now, and I probably look at it 100 times a day. It means a lot to me because it is a very physical lesson to me about what is important in my life. However, this ring is not important to me -- it's very beautiful and I feel lucky to have it -- but if I had to make a list of the things that are most vital in my life, I don't think the ring would make the top 20. It is a simple ring, symbolizing a simple marriage that started on some rocky ground (um, you saw how immature I was) and has grown into something solid and sure. A ring does not a marriage make. I hope that I learned a huge lesson from my experience of getting enganged -- in my effort to make things happen my way, I missed out on what could of been a sweet memory and surprise. Now I just have memories of what a fool I was at the time.

Several weeks ago I was sitting in a restaurant in Eugene with my aunt, chatting away, when our very alternative looking waitress came up and said, "I just love your ring. It is just beautiful!" I looked up at her and said, "Thank you. I couldn't agree more."

Amy