Amber's Story

Dear Readers,

Please allow me to introduce a good friend and fellow English teacher and writer. Her words here express the spirit of Valentine’s Day better than I ever could. I hope that they might inspire you to do something special, something spectacular for the one you love, in this special season of love. G. E. Shuman

My Engagement Story

By Amber Fecher

One moment. One sequence of moments. It wasn’t until the morning after that I was able to identify any of the emotions going through me. 

Love.

That’s the emotion I felt strongest at that moment. I felt love. I felt loved. So much so that I felt frozen to my seat. The world seemed to stop. Time stood still. And I felt overwhelmed in love.

For about a month Kyle and I had been planning to spend a few days together for my winter break. He took off work and we made some fun but relaxing plans.

At the beginning of the week he told me to wear something nice the day I came up because he was going to make a Valentine/Anniversary (of 2 years together) dinner.

Out came the little black dress I’d been saving for a special occasion for at least two years.

The table was set for a romantic dinner - just like in the movies - cloth tablecloth, candles, music, a rose. Perfect. Beautiful. Romantic. The kind of dinner every girl wishes for.

I could smell the steak sizzling in the broiler. Green beans, mashed potatoes, rolls, and sparkling cider accompanied the perfectly broiled steak.

Of course, he finished eating before me, so as I finished eating he opened his gift from me.

After eating homemade peach pie with homemade crust that I made (Yes, I’m proud of this accomplishment!) he gave me his Valentine gifts for me.

Then he scooted his chair closer to me as I began to open them.

Hershey’s kisses with hazelnut centers. 

A decorative box - I love those things!

Inside were a few very special gifts, the first being a pearl necklace that you “make” yourself - the pearl was still in the oyster and in a sealed container. Pretty neat.

The second box I opened was a beautiful set of pearl earrings and necklace. Real pearls. Beautiful. Perfect in their imperfection.

Then I opened the most beautiful ruby and diamond bracelet I’ve ever seen. It matched my outfit perfectly! I literally thought about a bracelet on my drive up and regretted not picking one to go with my outfit. 

After he clasped the bracelet onto my wrist I opened the last item in the box…a homemade card.

I’m not sure if I breathed the next minute or ten or twenty. 

The world kind of froze as I read the words he wrote. 

I can’t tell you what my heart felt like, because I really can’t remember.

But the words I read told me that he sees me as a pearl of great price and my worth as far above rubies…and with one final question….

I looked up from the card and he got down on one knee…and he said: “Will you marry me?”

So now, my friends, I wear a ring on the third finger of my left hand. But it’s more than just a ring. Within it, it holds the heart of the man to whom I said, “yes.” 

I look at my hand and see his heart. 

And my heart? I’ll let you know when it feels normal again.

But you may be waiting a very, very long time…

What a Day Will Bring

By G. E. Shuman

            So, I was staring at my face in the bathroom mirror this morning, getting ready to shave, after my morning shower. The mirror is the same one I have looked into for the past thirty-five years or so. The face, not so much. Either that or that mirror has really deteriorated over the years.

            It must be a matter of muscle memory that I use when opening that cabinet and getting out the shaving cream and razor, as I’m normally still too groggy from the night to put any actual mental effort into this almost infinitely repeated routine. (A few times in the past I have honestly felt my face as I left the bathroom to be certain I did really shave.)

            Yes, the face has changed a bit. The hair is different now, (It has no color now and there is less of it.) and I seem to have somehow grown extra eyelids and chins. The crow’s feet have appeared and even grown a bit over time, and things my wife calls ‘jowls’ have taken residence along my jawline. How wonderful. (I blame gravity for this because gravity tends to suck.) Convincing myself that all these things are improvements that give my face a wise and distinguished appearance is not easy. Convincing myself that they make me look old, is.

            I thought, as I put the shaving cream and razor away and prepared to leave the bathroom this morning, that this is where most of the daily, regimented routine ends for me.  For certain, there are more routine things that I will do, depending on whether it is a work day or a day off, (I pretty much put clothes on every day.) but from that point, at least, all bets are off as to what the day will bring.

            Forrest Gump said it best, with his: ‘Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get.” To me, not just life, but every day is like that. Every person has both sadness and smiles, every family has trials and triumphs, and every day can bring showers or sunshine, and usually brings surprises. These thoughts came to mind as I got ready for work today and went downstairs to make coffee, collect my thoughts and books, and head for school.

            I’m a person who has always tried to ‘fix’ all the fixable things around me, whether they be leaky faucets, distressed family members, or those unknown things you get in life that Forrest Gump was talking about. I’m not sure if that is a good trait or a bad habit, and I guess it depends on the condition of the faucet, family member, or foul up that makes today so special. I also don’t have much patience and want to get things solved ‘right now’ and completely. I have learned or am at least trying to learn that eating the elephant all in one bite seldom works out well. It is better to take things slowly, I am told, and told, and told.

            As we face a new year that is already one-twelfth over, (believe it or not,) my plan is to try to worry less, and to trust more. For me that means to trust God more to handle my problems with me, and to avoid the temptation to try to ‘fix it all’ myself. For you it might be different. It might mean to trust others to be there for you.

            I think we would all be happier and maybe even healthier if we followed something told to me many years ago but forgotten about until today.  That is: “Life is ten percent what happens to us and ninety percent how we react to it.” I believe that and hope I don’t forget it again, because Mr. Gump was definitely right.

Here We Are Again, Already

By G. E. Shuman

          I was writing this column for the paper the other day and told you how amazed I was that the holidays were over and that another year had already passed. We talked a few moments, you and I, about how we would now need to practice writing another number for the year, and I know I said it would take a while for me to stop writing ‘last year’s’.  I remember telling you how I simply can never get over how quickly the seasons pass. You nodded in agreement, I think. (Actually, I have no way of knowing that, but it makes me feel better if I think you are agreeing with me.)

          And now I sit here again, in the same spot in our home, writing about the fact that that ‘other day,’ when I wrote that other column, was another whole year ago, already. Amazing!

          “Where has the time gone?” people sometimes say. “How time flies!” or “Time flies when you’re having fun!” are other statements expressing the same thought. I once heard someone state that “the passing of time is relative, and how fast it goes depends on what relatives you’re passing it with.” Even the master of the whole relativity thing, Albert Einstein himself once related that spending an hour with a beautiful woman can seem like two minutes and spending two minutes in a dentist’s chair can seem like an hour.

          For me, last year must fall into the ‘beautiful woman’ category, because that entire 365-day period seems to have just flown by. Some of the reason for that is probably simply that a year really isn’t that long a period of time, and each year is a smaller and smaller percentage of this life I am living. More of the reason is likely that time does seem to pass quickly when you are busy, and our household, our family, seems to always be busy. I don’t always appreciate some of that busyness but need to. I need to hang on to those times, to THESE times, for as long as I can.  

          Before I forget to say this, and before more time goes by, I want to wish you and yours a wonderful, blessed, Happy New Year!

          “Anticipation”, a Carley Simon song from way back in the early ‘70s, ends where I will end this column, with better words that I could write about the year or the passing of time. If you happen to be of the vintage who remembers the song, you will know that it ends with the haunting thought: “I’ll stay right here, ‘cause these are the good old days. These are the good old days. These are the good old days.”