A Morning with Her Father

It was early, 7:35 AM when I ran outside and jumped into my car to leave for Orlando. “What about the ring? He may want to see it. It may help to communicate to him how much his daughter means to me.” I hurriedly jumped out of my car and fumbled with the keys while trying to unlock the door that I had just locked on my way out. I ran into the house and grabbed the small white box upon which was written “ZALES the diamond store.” I was now on my way to see her dad.

“How is he going to respond” I wondered to myself as I repeated the few carefully contemplated words that would alter not only my life and hers, but would strongly affect many others who were close to us. I pictured in my mind him and I sitting across the table from one another when suddenly out of my mouth came the words “I would like to know if you will give me your permission, that I might ask your daughter to marry me.”

My mind was back on traffic now. Have I ever told you how bad the traffic is down here in Florida? It’s terrible. Construction has been going on night and day since I have arrived here over two years ago and yet I have still to notice any progress. The cars between me and the stoplight ahead, at which I planned to turn, stretched on for nearly a mile. I could just barely make out the signal in the distance as I brought my car to a stop behind a fellow Floridian commuter. Upon second thought as to my traveling plans I quickly made a u-turn and decided to take the toll road, though two dollars lighter I knew my wallet would be. It was important that I arrived at her father’s house in time.

Finely though nearly two hours later, I had made it. After at least two or three wrong turns and probably that many calls to her dad’s cell phone I was knocking at his door. All of this and I was only fifteen minutes late. We sat down together at his kitchen table and chatted about work, the war in Iraq and the recent hurricanes when suddenly the conversation came to a lull and he said, “So what’s up?” I hesitated and then asked him the question that I had repeated so many times in my head. I spoke the words that caused me so much thought and so little sleep the previous night and then . . . silence. I waited for him to respond. He paused for a moment and then began asking the questions. “How are you going to take care of her?” “You’re not going to take her out of the country on any missionary endeavors are you?” “What are your future plans?” “When would you like to get married?” Though I tried to answer his questions confidently and with strong assurance, the words seemed to stumble as they hobbled on out of my mouth. Somehow they must have come across with some amount of persuasion because before I knew it there was a smile on his face and an outstretched arm which I firmly grasped and happily shook—a feeling of relief coming over me. “Congratulations,” he said.