Have you ever said something that you didn’t really mean, but you really did–kinda–but you really didn’t?
As I write this today—March 28, 2022—I’m celebrating the 38th anniversary of when that happened.
My allotted word count doesn’t permit me to tell the whole backstory, but here’s the abbreviated version.
I knew I was going to marry Mrs. Sweetie before we ever had our first date. I just did. I was already smitten when a friend in the college choir suggested that we would make a great couple.
We’d already been friends for a couple of years and hung out in the same group. I was never—I mean ever—confident in asking girls out on dates. So I started dropping hints around her that girls practically have to ask me out on dates.
She later told me that she was interested at the time, but she was not about to let me be a chicken. So she determined that if it were ever going to happen I would be the one asking.
So as we continued to hang out, I started casually saying things like, “after we’re married, we’ll … “ (whatever the subject was at the time).
Finally she looked at me and said, “If we’re ever going to get married, you’re probably going to have to ask me out.”
That was all the encouragement I needed. It only took me another month to work up the courage to officially ask her out (insert eye roll here).
At the time of our first date, I was taking a required woodwinds instrument class for my music degree. My degree was in music education with a focus on voice and choral conducting. Why I had to learn to play the flute, clarinet, oboe, and bassoon is still baffling to me.
I was learning flute at the time and she asked me when I was going to play it for her. I went back to the well of marriage jokes and said, “on our 50th wedding anniversary.”
Not long after we officially started dating, our college choir was preparing to go on a concert tour of Austria and Hungary.
She warned me before we left that I should not get caught up in the romance of the places we’d be and start talking crazy marriage stuff.
I heeded her warning.
For about half of the trip.
And then I started talking crazy marriage stuff.
She looked deeply into my eyes and said, “Do you know for certain that I’m the one God wants you to spend the rest of your life with.”
I looked back and said, “Yes. And when God convinces you, you can let me know.”
What a proposal!
Just over two weeks later, she showed up at my apartment and handed me an envelope.
Inside was a piece of flute music.
That was 38 years ago today.
So I have just over twelve years to learn how to play the flute again.
Either that, or I’ll need to build a “flute” out of instruments that I can actually play.
And that, my friends, is how you can call me Dr. Flautenstine.
There is no great or deep lesson for today. I just wanted to share something that made me smile—and hope it’s contagious.
Maybe that’s the best way for us to be amazing today.
Be amazing today, my friend.
