Things aren’t always as they appear.

Scott and me, about 6 months into our dating relationship, at Myrtle Beach

The other day I was heading into town from home when I noticed trucks and trailers setting up what appeared to be a rodeo at the fairgrounds. That made me smile.

I’m not a rodeo fan, but that sight made me smile because of what it made me think of. See, exactly 5 years ago this weekend, the same rodeo was in town. And that weekend was big for me.

I don’t remember what spurred the whole thing, but I remember the night itself with startling clarity. I was very upset, and my parents were concerned. It was one of those rare Saturday nights when I didn’t have plans; I had been dating my boyfriend for about 6 months, and most of my free time was spent in his company. That night, though, he had said he needed some time alone. Without me. To think. About….things.

If you’ve ever been in one of those relationships, you know the chill that comes over your heart and the lump that takes up residence in your stomach when those words come up. It’s not good, my friends, and I was very, very worried. Very much so, and it brought on a tearful and anxious state that my parents hadn’t seen since I was about 17 (and I’m pretty sure that they hadn’t missed it). Their concern led to an invitation to go to dinner and see a movie with them. Anything to keep me from sitting in a teary lump at home.

I’m a worrier. All if took was a heart-to-heart talk on Friday night and a declination of plans for Saturday night, and I was a mess. Sweet Mom and Dad, though, invited that mess to go with them.

So there I was, quietly, nauseatingly upset and in the company of my parents at an Italian restaurant, unable to eat my lasagna and unwilling to talk. Swirling my breadstick in tomato sauce and unenthusiastically chuckling with my parents’ conversation. They eventually got it out of me, and once the words began to flow, so did the tears – a pouring river of salty tears into my cold pasta.

“I think it’s over. I’m too much for him. All of my history…my baggage…all that I’ve been through….it’s more than he bargained for and than he wants. He’s going to end this. I just know it.”

And oh, the fury I felt when I looked up at my dad through teary eyes and saw – oh, I can’t even believe it – I saw him smirking.

He was trying not to smile. Seriously?! Seriously, Dad?!

Through his smirk, he did what dads do – tried to reassure his daughter and looked to his wife for help. She, though, wasn’t much help, as she, too, was choking back a laugh.

“Now, honey…I’m sure that’s not true. He’s not thinking about anything like that. He loves you. Don’t worry.” Nice words, but still, they smirked.

Oh, yes. I was mad. I shut down, and refused to talk any more. That night, after the movie, I went on a drive – past the rodeo – and wound up at my boyfriend’s house. We talked. We cried. He convinced me that he was all right and we were all right and that there was nothing to worry about.

About a month or so later, though, I found out why my parents had been smiling through my tears. They had known a pretty big secret. They knew something I wasn’t to know yet. See, a month after that night in the restaurant, my boyfriend presented me with a ring and a question…and I, too, smiled through my tears.

Memorial Day 2005, mere minutes after Scott popped the question. I was absolutely, completely, entirely beside myself with joy. (And can you tell that I had no idea that day was going to be a huge one in my life? I certainly didn’t dress up for the occasion!)

Thinking about all of this has carried me back to that spring night in 2005, and has stirred up some of the feelings of that time in my life. As I think about that, I can’t help but realize that that man – the one who had my heart in a panic and my stomach in knots – is the same one who will come home to me and his daughter tonight. That man who stirred up so much emotion in me then is the same one who shares his life with me now.

He is the same man, and I am the same me. We’ve changed some, yes, through life and all that it entails, but we are the same people who were so smitten a few years ago. The enthusiasm of our affection is dimmed by time and life, but we are the same people. So tonight, I’ll tell him how much I appreciate him. I’ll tell him how much I love him and how glad I am that neither of us ran away from us. I’ll hug him, and inside I’ll silently thank God that things are not always as they appear.