A story about hot chocolate and a diamond ring.

Why, hello, dear ones. Jesse here, writing on behalf of both myself and an incredibly dashing American gentleman you all know very well.

Since we're legendarily bad at taking photos when we're together (including this past Christmas), here's a silly one of us at Tom & Alyssa's wedding in August. Creds go to Emma Lefebvre!

With much of the chaos of the holiday season and the transition into 2013 now behind us, it’s probably about time the two of us shared a bit of exciting news with this beloved family. Sincere apologies this post has taken so long to get written.

As many of you already know, on the evening of December 14th, while strolling along the shores of Lake Michigan, Mr. Eric Johnson asked yours truly if I would marry him. And I, of course, said YES!

But that’s the short version. So for those of you who prefer that length, I give you permission now to go and do all the other things you have to do today. And for those of you who want details and have ample patience for my ramblings, why don’t I set the scene a bit, hmm?

Alright. With my exams finished for the fall semester and eager to see Eric once again after enduring another three and a half months of long-distance Skype dates, I flew down to Illinois from Ottawa on December 12th. A joyous reunion ensued. I sure fancy that man.

A couple of days later, on the 14th, Eric woke up with the birds and headed off to the middle school to teach matrices to the kids in 8th-grade math. I slept in, finished writing a magazine article for a class of mine, and played some Christmas carols on the piano. When 3:30 rolled around, the kids went home and Eric picked me up in ol’ Judy (who, by the way, is still kicking like the Kicking Horse coffee grounds that used to inhabit Tom’s old bodum - may it rest in peace) and we hit the highway for Chicago.

Along the way, we listened to a 90-song Christmas playlist I crafted while procrastinating at school. We got stuck in traffic. We marveled at the intricacy of the lights strung tediously through the branches of roadside trees as we approached downtown. And then we parked and breathed in the city.

First, we walked through an outdoor German Christmas market held each year in a square downtown. There were people everywhere, crowded shoulder to shoulder. The smell of nuts roasting. Elaborate ornaments for sale. The jingle of sleigh bells at each entrance paired with a smiling Salvation Army volunteer.

Then, to dinner. Eric had made reservations elsewhere in the city, but the traffic heading downtown had put us behind schedule so we cancelled and instead ventured into a cheery pub a couple of blocks from the market. I had the salmon. He had some sort of pasta. I think.

Anyhow. Quickly now, a couple of blocks to the Goodman Theatre. Bless his soul, the man knows I adore live theatre. We saw “A Christmas Carol”, and the sets were brilliant and the costumes were divine and Scrooge was completely delightful. I left whistling full-throated Christmas carols and a couple people stared at me. Oh well.

Next, hot chocolate! We nabbed some at the McDonald’s across the street since, by this point, all the coffee shops in the neighbourhood were closed for the night. But believe it or not, the Yellow Arches served up some first-rate sludge. Anyways, with said beverages in hand we set off for a late-night stroll. First, along Michigan Avenue. Then, through Millennium Park with a nod to the Bean. And eventually, as the lights of Navy Pier twinkled in the distance, to the path that winds along the edge of the lake.

Now away from much of the downtown bustle, Eric suddenly spilled his hot chocolate. To clarify, by ‘spilled’ I mean ‘intentionally got hot chocolate on his hands and pretended it was an accident’. 

He cried out: “Oh no, Jess! I spilled my hot chocolate!” 

And I, unsuspecting and mildly bewildered, said something poetic like: “Huh? What? How?” 

And I also chuckled to myself and thought: “What a clutz!”

And then, he said: “Can you get some napkins from my coat pocket for me?”

Now, at this precise moment, my heart sank a little bit. See, I had considered the chance Eric might propose on this night since we’d been talking about marriage for awhile and since we happened to be doing so many lovely things out on the town. But remember that I, in that moment, still thought the spill was legitimate. And so, I thought to myself: “He wouldn’t have me get napkins out of his pocket if there was also a ring box in there... I guess tonight’s not the night after all. (insert sigh)”

But, dear friends, when I reached into that pocket, there were no napkins at all! Instead, my fingers closed around a ring-sized box and I’m fairly sure I got real wide-eyed and open-mouthed as I pulled it from its hiding place into the evening air. Then, in an apparent lack of control over how my body reacts to surprises, I went up on tiptoes and stumbled a good 8 feet backwards. In retrospect, this probably looked to Eric like I was running away. (Sorry for that, dear.) But rest assured, I wasn’t, and so he soon reeled me back in and took the still-shut box from my hands. Cracking it open, he went down on one knee and said some things I don’t really remember but am sure were incredibly sweet and which happened to end with “I love you. Will you marry me?” And, folks, I am so very pleased to tell you that I said “YES!”

Next there were hugs, and kisses, and hot chocolate in my hair, and eventually we clasped hands and wandered back to Judy, feeling just a little bit surreal and in awe of the adventure before us. It’s funny how such a brief little exchange of short little words changes the whole trajectory of your life in such huge and wonderful ways.

My beee-a-utiful ring!

So there you have it. Fairly often these days, I sit back and marvel at the incredible ways our Lord has orchestrated each one of our post-Kaleo paths in ways we never could have imagined for ourselves. Back when Johnson and I were platonically sharing grapefruits during those lengthy classes in the basement of Pacific Woods, I never expected that four years down the line I’d end up marrying the man. I think both of us are fairly blown away that He has chosen to shower us with such rich blessing in each other. And so, even as we journey through the many transitions and uncertainties now ahead of us, there is rest and joy in knowing that His will is perfect and His faithfulness is sure.

We miss each of you so very much. Praying you’re enjoying a blessed New Year as you trust in our gracious Lord’s leading and delight in His infinite and glorious goodness. Much love.

P.S. - Considering you all serve as our original common thread and meeting grounds, each one of you are, of course, invited to celebrate with us! We don’t have a date set for the big do just yet, thanks to ambiguous Canada-US immigration processes, but we’re aiming at late summer so once that’s set in stone, you’ll be among the first to know.