While Bill was away during those twenty long days — the days that made me ealize how deeply I loved him — he told me something I never expected to hear. He said he knew I was his forever and believed we were finally being blessed with the kind of love our Creator always intended for us. And he confessed that once he came home, he would propose.

I was still healing, shocked, and completely caught off guard. I told him it felt too fast and that I was unsure. But as many of you reading this already know, Bill can be incredibly persistent — and sure enough, less than twenty-four hours after he came home, he was down on one knee.

He didn’t have a ring.
He didn’t have a plan.
He wasn’t expecting an answer.

He simply wanted me to know that the love he felt for me while he was away… was just as strong now that he was home. He explained that it wasn’t an actual proposal — that when the time came, his proposal would be done properly.

I was shocked, flustered, and blushing. I gently reminded him that I didn’t know what my answer would be. And he accepted that with the same patience and tenderness he had always shown me.

A few months later, while we were joking around, he asked again in a playful way. I teased back, telling him if he was going to propose to a girl, he should probably have a ring. He grinned and asked if that meant I’d say yes — and I laughed, telling him that wasn’t what I meant at all.

But the truth is, that conversation opened a door between us. I may have acted unsure, but deep down I already knew — I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him by my side.

We talked about our pasts — mine filled with proposals that were never heartfelt, gestures that lacked sincerity, and even an engagement ring I was told to purchase myself. He then asked what style of rings I liked. I told him that I adored the princess cut, but then added something far more important:

That the most meaningful ring a man could ever give a woman would be one he designed himself — not expensive, not fancy, maybe not even real — just something made from the heart.

He vowed he would make me one.
And he meant it.

Even though deep down I knew I wanted to marry him, I still kept a bit of a playful guard up. Every now and then, I’d remind him with a smirk that I “never said yes.” He’d tell people I was his fiancée, and I’d hold up my hand and tease, “I don’t see a ring on this finger!” We’d laugh, and throughout the following months, our teasing would continue.

Then one quiet morning, we were sitting next to one another on the edge of the bed, sipping on coffee and discussing our plans for the day. He made another little comment about his “fiancée,” and I held up my hand with that same teasing smile, repeating the line I always used — that he hadn’t put a ring on it yet.

“What size is your finger again?” he asked. 

“I don’t know… maybe an eight? You might have to measure,” I said, teasing casually and completely unaware of what was about to happen next.

Then I noticed him fiddling with something on his finger — which I assumed was the ring he always wore on his pinky — until he suddenly shifted.

Tears filled his eyes, his voice trembled, and I suddenly understood he was fighting back his emotions. Then he lowered himself onto the floor, settling onto one knee. In his hand was the most beautiful handmade ring I could have ever imagined — a ring he had designed and sized himself, just for me.

He asked me to marry him.

And this time, with my heart overflowing and tears of my own gathering, I said yes!