He came on a Tuesday, one of two days during the week when a plane from Uganda flies north to drop off visitors and medicine and packages from distant continents. I waited anxiously in a plastic chair under a small canopy of shade, watching goats walk carelessly across the dirt airstrip and listening to conversations in languages that have no meaning to me, and thinking, “what did I do to deserve this?” This man, my man, who would spend a couple thousand dollars and hard-earned vacation time to come visit me here. Who would choose, willingly and generously, to meet me at this place and step into my life in South Sudan.
For a week he stayed at Harvesters. We walked the dirt roads of the village with 35 kids and I snapped pictures of him strolling hand-in-hand with a boy on each side. We spent long lunch breaks in the dining room chatting with Mr. Mourice and Philip, some of the staff from Kenya, about the American military and foreign policy. He carried pieces of timber, a bag of nails, and a hammer through each of the dorms repairing broken dresser drawers and bed-posts, always followed by a gaggle of giggling toddlers. We sat on the bench in the afternoon and surprised everyone when baby Jimmy, who has a fear of men, sat contently on his lap. On Sunday the staff piled into the Land Cruiser and he treated all of us to lunch in town.
On one of his final nights here I went to the house where he was staying to watch a movie, to relax, and have some time together. The credits rolled and we sat on the couch, and as I listened to his deep, familiar voice and looked into his clear, blue eyes I was overwhelmed with love for him. Love deep and full and tinged with the fear of someday losing him. Please God, don’t ever take him from me, let this be forever. And then, out of a quiet moment, his confident, gentle voice, “Will you marry me?” A question so simple and heavy and surprising that I felt like falling down. I whispered the answer without realizing I was even speaking. There was no thinking about what to say or how, just a reaction as natural as exhaling, as if I have known all my life to say “yes,” I was just waiting for him to ask.
