Engaged?

Christmas 2008

If there’s one thing I know to be true, it’s that God answers my prayers. If there are two things I know to be true, it’s that every time He answers, it’s a completely unique experience. The commonality between each of these events is the feeling I get once the answer is revealed. It feels something like, “Duh, Darron. Didn’t you know?” followed by deep satisfaction and a sense of gratitude.

Back now to September 2002. I’m driving north on I-15 in a hurry. I’m not in a hurry because I’m going to be late, but because I want to be early. I’m excited, which is fairly unusual given that I’m a junior at BYU—too long off the mission to be unscathed by the relentless boredom of social factions and too far from graduation to feel hopeful of escape. Things have recently begun to change though, and that change is coming to a head this weekend. I just need to get to Bountiful.

After a series of romances and breakups, I’ve somehow managed to convince Kristen that I really am a catch and she could do worse. We’re meeting up in Bountiful to have a special fast with her parents to get an answer about whether we should get married. Frankly, I think that Kristen took more convincing than God will.

I realize that I’ve been shaking with nerves, but there’s really nothing to be nervous about. Kristen and I have come to our decision, and this is nothing more than a formality. I steady myself as I climb the mountain road up to Kristen’s parents’ house. The leaves are turning beautiful shades of autumnal reds and yellows. The scenery helps me feel more peaceful about what’s ahead. Formality or not, it’s no small thing to ask a parent for his daughter, and that is next on the agenda.

I’m welcomed into Steve and Marcie’s home warmly. After standing awkwardly in the entry for a couple minutes, Steve invites Marcie and me into what’s known as the zebra room, for the fake zebra skin rug on the floor. He dismisses Kristen, and she gives me a quick look of slight apprehension as she vanishes down the stairs. Despite the somewhat disconcerting look from Kristen, the meeting goes very well and ends with hugs all around.

I’m staying the night at the Alleys, and so I join them as they go to Kristen’s grandmother’s house. She passed just a few weeks ago, and some of the family is meeting there to eat, share memories and clean up. After sitting down at the gateleg table that would later sit in my own kitchen, Ben shows up. He greets everyone, sits down, waits silently for a few seconds, looks directly at me and says, “So do you have some sort of announcement?” Meeting Ben’s stare can be compared to staring down the barrel of a cannon. That’s not to say he was about to explode, it’s more to say that it can be a little daunting if you don’t work with cannons every day. I freeze and just manage to jerk my thumb in Kristen’s direction as if to say, “You’re going to have to take that up with your sister since we haven’t actually completed our fast about this yet.” Kristen artfully dodges the question, and we move on with the evening.

The next day we go to Ben’s ward for church because he is speaking in Sacrament Meeting. He gives a great talk in which he shares a story about the time he was inactive in the church, but his parents persisted in inviting him back. He says that his mom’s invitation to read The Book of Mormon and her outpouring of love is what finally moved him to return to church and embrace the gospel.

As I think about this I get a distinct and powerful impression—the kind that only can come in moments of inspiration when the spirit is working on you. While I don’t hear a voice, the words clearly come to my mind, “This is your brother. Listen to him.” I sit bolt upright and listen as carefully as I can to the rest of his talk.

I must admit that I don’t remember another word of what Ben said that day, but I’ll never forget the story he was telling when I was struck as if by lightning with an answer to the prayer I thought was already answered. I was fasting and praying as a formality after all.