The Moon's a Fingernail

Wes proposed to me one beautiful night about five years ago. The evening was planned to perfection and masterfully executed by his very capable "Thunder Committee."

It was so perfect, I can hardly describe it. Even so much of what I can describe will have to be sacrificed for some amount of brevity.

It involved a series of significant places that evoked meaningful memories. It involved everything ridiculously, suspensefully, so sincerely, and so thoughtfully romantic (flowers, food, parks, poetry, jewelry, candlelight...). It spanned an afternoon and evening's worth of time - time spent reminiscing, time spent dreaming.

It remains perfectly preserved in my memory.
It was, I tell you, perfectly planned.

And yet, there was one thing that was perfectly unplanned: Our engagement sky was decorated with a delicate crescent moon. Sure, moonlight is romantic for everyone. But this was our fingernail moon. The moon from our song. The moon from Sting's Ghost Story.

...The moon's a fingernail
and slowly sinking
another day begins
and now I'm thinking
that this indifference
was my invention
when everything I did
sought your attention
You were my compass star
You were my measure
You were a pirate's map
of buried treasure
if this was all correct,
the last thing I'd expect,
the prosecution rests
its time that I confessed
I must have loved you.

We walked hand in hand that night, under our moonlit sky, softly humming Sting's haunting, oh so familiar melody. Only minutes later we left the moonlight for the dim, after-hours light of a meaningful BYU classroom. But the same music - the same song - still surrounded us, this time dancing from a real disc in the corner of the room. Wes proposed. I accepted his proposal. And as we walked home, we were serenaded once more by the light of our fingernail moon.

I was so starry-eyed and in love that Wes could have proposed on a garbage heap and it would have been wonderful. But the moonlight coincidence, that was perfection - a beautiful, unplanned perk that we were still smiling about five months later when we were married amid the glowing magic and mistletoe of Christmastime.

And we still smile about that fingernail moon today.

I guess it's not too astonishing to declare that I love Wes more now than I did that night he lassoed and gave me the moon, more even than the day we linked hands over a sacred alter to make significant covenants with each other and with God. I guess that's just how love works: exponential increase over time.

And even though our five years together as man and wife have been laced, littered, strewn with, sometimes overwhelmed by the unplanned, they've been perfect. Perfect for our growth, perfect for our testimonies, perfect, most of all, for our relationship. It's almost as if that unplanned sliver of a moon in our engagement sky five years ago was a silvery promise from a wise Father that there is, often, purpose in the unplanned.

Just a few weeks ago, we spotted a fingernail moon in the sky while we were driving with Lucy in the car. We pointed the moon out to her and explained that it was just like the special moon that was in the sky when Daddy asked Mommy to marry him. On a whim I said, "Maybe you chose the moon that night, Lucy!"

"Yeah! I did!" she agreed, happy to be included in the story.

Several days later, Lucy was in her high chair waiting to be fed. I was cutting a bagel for her. When I handed her the crescent, half-bagel shape she was overjoyed with recognition.

"Like the moon! Like the moon that I put in your sky!"

Maybe Lucy did have a hand in our fingernail moon five years ago. Maybe not. Regardless, she most certainly does put the moon in our skies today. Every day. The love we celebrate this anniversary is so much stronger because she is a part of it. I love Wes more and more as I watch him love her.

And so this Christmas season, sweet for it's own sake, is sweeter to us because it marks another anniversary of our eternal family.

You may not hear much from us in the next few weeks, but you can be sure that we are celebrating: celebrating the birth of our Savior; celebrating the longevity he gives to the love we feel for each other; celebrating our Father's perfect plan for his children; celebrating how that plan blesses us - in ways that our own plans never could.

Happy Anniversary, Wes.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, Friends!!