Courage

The best thing that ever happened to me was that Adam asked me to marry him.

Here's a story he wrote about calling my dad:

As I recall, it was the Sunday afternoon of March 5, 1995: the single most nerve-racking day of my life.  Thelma will tell you that I've never been more nervous than on the morning of our wedding.  That day doesn't come close.  My cold, shaky hands then--the subject of another story, perhaps--don't begin to rival the feelings that overwhelmed me that Sunday afternoon when I called Mark to ask for Thelma's hand in marriage.

Mark can be intimidating.  It's not his stature or the knife sheathed on his belt.  It's the unruffled expression on his face masked by the mustache and occasional hat brim.  To the untrained eye, his face reveals nothing of what he might be thinking or feeling.  During my first visit as his daughter's nervous, upstart boyfriend, it wasn't hard to look at him from across the length of the dining table and imagine that his equable countenance was mere facade for any number of inner disappointments with her choice.  "Did he just look at me? Am I laughing too loud? Am I talking too much?  Is that gun over the mantle loaded?  How far to the highway?"

As I contemplated calling Mark that March afternoon in Provo, I had very little idea what to expect.  I was only convinced of a single thing based on my prior observations.  Mark would not answer the phone.  that was the one sure bet.  I had seen him unflappably go about eating lunch or dinner next to the ringing phone while Coralee or one of the children rushed to answer the call.  Whatever nerves were afflicting me, I could work them out with a little small talk when someone else picked up the other end of the line.

It could have been anyone, really.  I was prepared ahead of time with talking points.  I knelt down next to my bed, prayed for courage and picked up the phone.  I dialed.  I waited.  I waited.  Mark answered.

"Hi, this is Adam.  I'm calling because I...I was...I mean Adam Davis."

What a dope!  "Hi, this is Adam."  It was too casual, too cavalier!  By the time I realized how it sounded, my ill-timed attempt at a correction made it worse.  My mind checked out of my body entirely.  On one end of the line I could almost make out my own words stumbling over each other.  At the other end of the line I imagined Mark with an astonished look in his eyes and a desperate hope that I wouldn't be operating heavy machinery or handling sharp objects near his daughter.  A long pause finally made me aware that I had stopped talking.

"Well..."

Another pause.

"Coralee and I have talked about it..."

I don't remember a lot of what was said after that.  It was if someone had released a circle of rabid flying squirrels in my mind.  Somehow I came to know that Mark approved--or was at least acquiescent--to the idea of my marrying Thelma.  I managed to get something out about him making the wedding ring, probably made a bad joke, hung up the phone and collapsed to the floor.

It is said that the truly great athletes can get into a "zone" where the conscious mind gives way to the subconscious, action is fueled by adrenaline and their focus is single minded.  My unconscious mind had me crawling at lightning speed out of my room, down the hall and into the kitchen where I commenced chugging a gallon of milk before leaning up against the stove to pant in emotional exhaustion.

It all seems so silly now looking back on it.  What did I have to be afraid of?  Mark is kind.  He's tolerant.  He is a great conversationalist when he's inclined...Whatever he says, it will be interesting and worth the while.

Kind of like being part of the Dahl family.  I'm glad I asked.

I'm glad you asked too, Adam.  

Here's our engagement picture.  Were we really that young?  Braeden asked if it was taken on a set.  It was taken at an office building campus in south Provo.