There is a ring on that finger.

And birds were singing and rainbows crossed the sky and a butterfly landed on my nose.

Or.

We had our first fight.  Fights?  Quarrels.  When my parents finally arrived they sat on my bed with me and tossed my fears aside.  They reminded me, Tasha, Satan does not want good people to be together. And I felt my back straighten, my resolve strengthen.

There is a ring on that finger and I am still orienting my body towards it, still surprised when I glance at my hand.  More than my body, my heart is tentative.  And while I twist it around my finger, back and forth I am turning so much more.  A pledge.  A promise.  More than that.  A commitment.  I am working their definitions in my soul and I am getting wildly, wildly excited about rising to them.

I am sure I love him.  In a gentle way, in a way that is surprisingly strong, fiercely loyal.  I am quietly in love.  I am loudly in love.  I am crying, I am smiling, I am resting, I am stretching.

I am desperate for time in the word.  I am so in love with my Father.  And I have this confidence: that what He has begun will be made good.  And that He is not done, He will never be done.