My wife and I got engaged on Christmas Eve. It wasn’t exactly a surprise. I don’t remember if she was with me when I picked out the ring (update–she says she wasn’t), but we did go looking at them together. We had dated for four years at that time, since about halfway through her senior year in high school. I sat her down in a chair in her parents’ living room, got down on one knee (I’m very traditional and anyway, it’s getting back up that’s the trick) and presented the ring. I’m so smart that in all the years before and since I’ve never tried to dissuade her from her silly idea that I’m someone special.
If you are very lucky and extremely observant, you may have seen someone as happy as that, but I guarantee you’ve never seen anyone happier.
We went to midnight mass and, in church, she kept holding her hand out, catching the light with the diamond and watching it sparkle, enthralled. I watched her being happy, also enthralled. It was a good omen. In my life, she’s made most of the good stuff happen, and she’s made most of the bad stuff bearable.
As long as I mentioned midnight mass, I heard on the news this morning that Pope Benedict XVI rescheduled the traditional midnight mass at St. Peter’s for 10:00 PM. I know the Pope’s supposed to be infallible about some things, but I don’t believe that’s one of them.