Trust the backup plan: our engagement story.

Recently, I was inspired by Maria Abbe’s (Running Myself Together) engagement story and thought it was finally time to share my own engagement story…eight months after it happened. Classic.

I never really had a perfect proposal planned in my head; I had too many ideas for that! I knew I wanted it to be private and very much “us,” (though for many years I had no idea who would be doing the proposing.) I’m usually a Type B person, evident by the inconsistent posts on this blog. However, for major life events and parties, I’m a huge planner. As soon as I knew Charlie was buying the ring (another story for another time), I started to get a clearer picture in my head of an Ideal Proposal. What I got was The Backup Plan.

The Ideal took place in either New York (the city where we met) or New Orleans (where we had a trip planned the following month.)

The Backup Plan took place on a day trip to the City of Brotherly Love, Philadelphia.

The Ideal took place on my birthday or on said trip to New Orleans.

The Backup Plan took place on April 24th, 2021.

Obviously didn't think about my chipped nails for very long.

The Ideal included a perfect manicure, which is something I rarely have.

The Backup Plan included chipped pink nail polish from a wedding we attended the previous weekend. I remember thinking, “He’s not going to propose for another few weeks. I’ve got time to redo my nails.”

The Ideal was to meet at the Philadelphia Museum of Art at 4 p.m. after an afternoon of solo adventures around the city.

The Backup Plan included me taking the bus in the wrong direction, stopping at a Trader Joe’s for a bathroom break, and finally giving up and getting an Uber to the museum.

Charlie’s Ideal was to propose on top of the museum’s great staircase, made famous by Rocky. And yes, he did plan on yelling “Yo Adrienne, I DID IT!” after I said yes.

The Backup Plan was a massive protest at the bottom of the museum steps, because 2021. If we were more revolutionary, a proposal there would have been more romantic. As it stood, Charlie needed to get on board with The Backup Plan, quickly.

And as I discovered, the The Backup Plan was even better.

The Backup Plan included a romantic walk from the museum to our last stop of the day: the Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul.

Photo by Tiffany and Kyle.

The Backup Plan took place in a beautiful little triangular park in front of the basilica, with a fountain flowing and flowers blooming. I’d had a secret dream of getting engaged in front of a crucifix or a statue of the Blessed Mother. I never imagined it would happen in front of a whole basilica!

The Backup Plan was turning around, seeing Charlie get down on one knee, and feeling the world stop. My first words were, “Are you serious?!” My second words were, “Yes, of course!”

The Backup Plan was a ring infinitely better than the inspiration photo I sent him months ago, with my maternal grandmother’s diamond right in the center, exactly how I always wanted.

The Backup Plan was another couple sitting on a bench nearby, who quickly realized what was happening and started taking pictures, then came up to us and offered to take a few more. Tiffany and Kyle, if you happen to find this blog, we will always be grateful to you.

The Backup Plan was excitedly calling both sets of parents to give them the news, and then finding out that Charlie had asked my parents for their blessing only two weeks before.

Photo by Tiffany and Kyle.

The Backup Plan was a blissful train ride home to New York, and Charlie’s spontaneous idea to take me to dinner. It was getting late, and he scrolled through many restaurants that were already closed or booked up. He finally found one that was available, but he wouldn’t tell me anything until we got there.

The Backup Plan was a delicious steak dinner at Buenos Aires Restaurant. “I knew you liked this place,” Charlie said, “But I couldn’t remember why.” Here’s why: Since 2015, two of my close girlfriends and I had prayed several 54-day Rosary novenas for our future husbands. After we completed each novena, we would celebrate at Buenos Aires. It was the confirmation I needed that Jesus and Our Lady had heard my prayers, and that this was their will for my life.

Our Backup Plan was really God’s Ideal for us, and it turned out more special and more romantic than I could have ever imagined. If things don't go exactly as you imagine, let yourself be surprised by your backup plans; I promise you won’t regret it.

P.S. Check out more photos in the slideshow below!

What I'm looking forward to in 2022.

New headshots by the very talented Jon Marquez. Thanks Jon!

Happy New Year! I hope you all had a safe and wonderful Christmas/holiday season, and if you were alone due to the pandemic or other factors, I'm praying for you.

Like many people, I've got a big ol' list of goals I want to accomplish in 2022 (for the past few years, I've been using Gretchen Rubin's "__ in 20__" lists and Jennifer Fulwiler's Saint's Name generator and Word of the Year generator). My sister got me a new planner for Christmas, and I can't wait to dive in. But first, I want to take a moment to hope.

In my case, 2022 is full of big life changes and hopefully lots of surprises, too. However, if the past two years have taught us anything, it's that nothing is guaranteed. Plans will go awry, people will let us down, and we can lose jobs, homes, or our health unexpectedly. The lyrics of "The New World" from Jason Robert Brown's Songs For A New World have never felt more real.

It seems stupid to talk about what I'm looking forward to in a year with so many question marks. However, I'm subscribing to this old Anne Shirley adage: "Looking forward to things is half the pleasure of them. You mayn’t get the things themselves; but nothing can prevent you from having the fun of looking forward to them ... I think it would be worse to expect nothing than to be disappointed."

Here are just a few things I'm looking forward to experiencing (and probably writing about) in 2022:

1. A new job: Next week, I'm joining the copy desk at Morning Brew full time. Without sharing details, last year was very difficult for me career-wise. I'm so ecstatic to be returning to my first professional love — copy editing — with a great team and excellent writers to boot. If you want to get your business news without being stuffy, sign up for Morning Brew here, and tell them I sent you — did I mention it's free? #shamelessplug
   

2. Getting married: If you don't follow me on Instagram, Twitter, or IRL (but not in a creepy way), you may not know that I got engaged on April 24, 2021! My fiancé and I are deep into the wedding planning process and we're so excited to enter into the beautiful vocation of marriage. Tune into the blog next time where I'll be sharing our whole engagement story — and maybe a few ring selfies.
   

3. A new apartment: My fiancé and I have signed the lease on our first apartment and I'll be moving in with him after our wedding. Not sharing any more details here because, again, creeps.
   

4. A radical conversion ... to an iPhone: Yes, you read that right. After many years on #TeamAndroid, I'm joining the dark side. Please pray for my soul.
   

5. More writing: One of my many goals for this year is to write at least 100 words a day for one of the many creative projects I have floating around in my head, including this blog. I can't say for certain what this practice will produce, or if any of it will be fit for public consumption, but we shall see.

Thank you to all of you who have followed me on this journey so far. Here's to hope, however little we have left.

"Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen." - Hebrews 11:1

What are you looking forward to in 2022? Tell me in the comments below.

20 years of grief: an odyssey

Yesterday marked 20 years since the horrific events of September 11, 2001. I was nine years old that day, old enough to be aware that something tragic was happening, and young enough that my parents refused to turn on the news in front of me and my younger sister.

I have few memories of that day, mostly of my father picking me up from school and explaining what happened, and giving me the news that my neighbor, who worked in the World Trade Center, was one of the lucky ones who made it home that day. That's it. I don't remember being glued to the TV screen as the video footage was played over and over again. I don't remember being afraid. I don't remember screaming or crying or praying. And for many years, I thought that meant I had no right to grieve. How was I supposed to "never forget" what I barely remembered?

For many children across the country, they couldn't be shielded from the pain. So many actually lost parents and loved ones that day, and for months afterward, death and grief were all around us. There was no rulebook on how to help children cope with a national tragedy when the adults around us were still processing grief themselves.

My grief over 9/11 didn't come immediately. It's only now as I approach my 30s that I can trace the impact it has had on my life.

2 years after 9/11: It was around this time that I remember hearing Fr. Dan, the pastor of my childhood parish who was a strong spiritual figure in my early years, speak about his brother, who worked in the World Trade Center and didn't survive. It was the first time I'd heard that someone close to me had lost someone close to them.

6.5 years: I came to school the Monday after the Super Bowl and learned that a boy in my class had been killed in a car accident the night before. My whole class walked through the rest of that day in a haze of grief. After school, the only place I could think to go to was my church, which was down the road from my public high school. I knelt in front of a statue of Mary and prayed. I mark that day, February 4, 2008, as my conversion day.

7 years: My A.P. U.S. History teacher played us the footage of the planes striking the Twin Towers and of their collapse. I had probably seen the video many times in the months following 9/11, but it was the first time it felt real, like I wasn't watching a TV show.

10 years: In the twilight hours of my 19th birthday, President Obama addressed the nation to say Osama bin Laden, the man behind the terrorist attacks of 9/11, had finally been killed. People cheered. I felt numb.

That summer, I became a communications intern for the Franciscan friars in New York City. It was there that I learned the story of Fr. Mychal Judge, chaplain of the New York Fire Department and the first identified victim of the 9/11 attacks. When I looked at the photograph of a group of men carrying his body away from the rubble, I couldn't help but think of another Man who died a horrible death so others could live, and whose body was carried away by those who loved Him and taken to an empty tomb.

13.5 years: On January 7, two terrorists broke into the Paris offices of satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo and murdered 12 people. I was teaching middle school English in a small French town that was similar to the New Jersey suburb I grew up in. Some of my students' parents commuted to Paris for work. Many others had family members or friends who lived there. When I walked into my English conversation club the next day, one of my students said, "Miss, can we talk about Charlie Hebdo?" I scrapped my lesson plan on the spot and let them talk. These students were only a few years older than I was on 9/11. I saw the fear and confusion in their faces. My heart broke for them. I got a taste of what many parents and teachers faced in the days after 9/11. All I could say was, "There are many people in the United States who love you and support you," and I prayed it was true.

14 years: I got my first corporate job on Wall Street, mere blocks away from the 9/11 memorial. I would often walk around the fountain, looking for Fr. Mychal's name and Fr. Dan's brother's name.

18.5 years: I started a new job in aviation two and a half months before a global pandemic reached the U.S. I couldn't understand why God had led me to an industry in crisis, until I heard story after story of people who began working in aviation right before a major crisis. One of them was a former V.P. whose first day on the job was September 11, 2001.

19 years: On the anniversary of 9/11, I was laying in bed around 3pm. I suddenly felt a strong call to pray the Divine Mercy Chaplet. Two of the promises Jesus made to St. Faustina Kowalska were “At three o’clock, implore My mercy, especially for sinners; and, if only for a brief moment, immerse yourself in My Passion, particularly in My abandonment at the moment of agony…I will refuse nothing to the soul that makes a request of Me in virtue of My Passion.” and “When they say this chaplet in the presence of the dying, I will stand between My Father and the dying person, not as a just Judge but as a merciful Savior.” I prayed the chaplet for the repose of the souls of those who had perished on 9/11 and for all those who would die that day. The next morning, I woke up to the news that my friend Brooke, who had been battling cancer for the past year, had died on September 11, 2020. She was just 32 years old.

20 years: Yesterday, I had a hard time getting out of bed. I had cried all my tears out the day before while listening to Bruce Springsteen's The Rising. Now the grief that had been brewing for two decades finally washed over me. After I finally got up, I met friends at the pub where Brooke had her last birthday party, the Tribute in Light at Ground Zero clearly visible in the sky above. Reminders of our grief were all around us, but the tables were still crowded, the drinks were still freely flowing, the laughter was still loud, the city's heartbeat was still steady.

New York would never forget, but she was still moving forward.

"May your strength give us strength,

May your faith give us faith,

May your hope give us hope,

May your love give us love."

- Bruce Springsteen, "Into the Fire"