The Exceptional Question of 11:11

My mind froze. I stared at the open box at the most beautiful pearl ring I'd ever seen and . . . nothing, I had simply forgotten how to use words. After what seemed like an internal eternity, I breathed out a faint "What?" (Poor guy, you should have seen his face), but never fear I quickly stuttered out an "I, I mean yes. Yes, I'll marry you! Yes." And then amidst near tears and overwhelming surprise, I did the only thing I could think of to do, I held out my ring finger. And with the ring in place, I kissed the man I love more than even I can understand.  Here's the short version: I'm engaged.

Now here's the good version. :)

When I was ten years old I walked into my elementary library and saw a book. It was called, "Campbell's Chicken Soup for the Soul" and for some reason, I decided that this last name was quite possibly the coolest and most necessary last name . . . at least for me. ;) Wish #1

When I was twelve years old I discovered an uncanny ability I had to, by accident I assure you, eavesdrop on nearly every important conversation not meant for my ears. I never meant to but I didn't really mind either. Needless to say, I've never been successfully surprised, and I determined I never would be. Goal #1

When I was fourteen I was laying on my bed under the light of the moon, streaming in through my window. McKenzie was in her bed next to me and we thought that perhaps the day would never come that we would leave and go to college, of course, we'd never get married, and then as we grew quiet, each knowing it wasn't true, wondered how would it be? And for the first time, I wished I knew who he was. Wish #2

When I was eighteen I left for college. I also decided that if I ever got married it wouldn't be till at least 24 and he'd have to be "something else" to persuade me to such an awful fate. Nope, I wouldn't get married, at least no time soon. "Goal" #2

October of my freshman year of college I met a boy named Spencer Luke Campbell and he changed my life.

You see, I've always pictured myself as relatively practical. I set goals and I achieve them. Simple as that. But let's be honest I don't just set goals, I also wish on every evening star,  twice a day on 11:11, and I have always dreamed of true love. So after countless wishes, months of not dating the boy I was in love with (for that story see "A Continuing Story"), coming to terms with my heart, and then waiting as the distance between me and Jerusalem remained insurmountable, I decided that this boy with the right last name, not to mention my best friend, was the man I loved with all my heart, so I began wishing.

I remember Spencer would make jokes about my wishes, ensuring me they couldn't come true if I never told anyone. But to no avail, I wouldn't tell him my wish, as I'm sure you understand why. Well one day he, to my surprise, made a wish on 11:11. But refusing to tell me his wish successfully bartered the secret of his wish for mine. It was quite unfair, but I agreed and discovered that he'd simply wished that he could make my day better. Let's just say he got the better end of the deal. So I told him I wished that he would propose over Christmas.

Time passed. We went to his home in Prescott, Arizona for Christmas Break and life went on as usual. I got to know his family, we sang in the choir, climbed roofs, explored tunnels, watched movies, played games, we read Narnia every night before bed, and I even suffered through a migraine. I answered what felt like countless questions as to whether or not I was Spencer's wife or fiance and I waited. Soon the Christmas Day festivities were over and the day began to draw to a close. I had already had a few close calls, opening my present from Spencer (a piano puzzle box), and being nearly sure it would be a ring, or slowly closing the bathroom door so I couldn't overhear his dad talk about Spencer's plans to propose. But soon it was night time and as I began thinking about school, my family, and my job I became overwhelmed and forgot all about my hopes that he would propose.

As usual, Spencer came in to read, but this night we read "Rabbi Ben Ezra" by Robert Browning. These were the first lines I read,

"Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was made:
Our times are in His hand
Who saith "A whole I planned,
Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!"

As I read I wished in my soul that I could be his forever, but it was too late tonight, there was no way he was going to propose. And I refused to bring it up, I already had so many times I promised myself I wouldn't again. So when he asked me what I was thinking I decided to talk about my concerns with school instead of my wish. Long story made short, I talked for the next two hours. It's in my nature to talk a lot, especially when there's something on my mind, and soon our conversation came to a head. I couldn't decide whether or not to drop my Folk Dance class. I really didn't have room or time and I really did want to explore other types of dance, but I couldn't seem to drop it because I wanted to be really good at and very much a part of something. It really comes down to being exceptional. I refer to it as the pangs of mediocrity. I love nearly everything and find success in many things, but I've never invested all my time into one thing, so now I was feeling as though I was drowning in a sea of mediocrity. In surprise, Spencer asked me how I could not feel as though I was exceptional. He simply viewed me through an opposite lens. I labeled his assertions as "biased" but he patiently persisted, until realizing I wouldn't agree he suddenly changed course.
       He quietly said, "Well I think you're exceptional, and isn't it good enough to be an exceptional sister, future mother, and girlfriend?"
       "Well, yes." I replied.
       He remarked on that being an exceptional answer or something, which I quite frankly missed in light of his next question, he looked at me with a gentle intensity I can't really describe. His eyes were soft and light and he said, "Can I ask you an exceptional question?" I slowly nodded. And as he pulled a ring box out of his back pocket I heard, "Natalie, will you marry me?"


-Natalie Cherie