Engaged... In A Good Cause.

We were fourth in line, waiting for the stoplight to turn green. The air conditioner blew cool air while the sun beat down on the black asfault outside. Horns blared as they always do when red lights last too long in Puerto Rico. Behind us was another car of missionaries. We were in San Juan to attend a fireside with the visiting General Authority.

And then it happened.

Suddenly, the passenger door of one of the cars ahead of us pops open. Out jumps a woman that resembles Humpty Dumpty with her round body and little stick arms and legs. As she runs down the row of cars, it is as if she is running in high heels. Her tight black curls bounce up and down with each hurried step. I can almost hear the scraping heels on the road. She is frantic, but frantic for what?

As she nears our car, my eyes move to the hood of the car; under the impression that if I do not make eye contact or move, she can not see me. It is all in vain, however, because soon after averting my eyes there comes a frantic tap at the window. My window. Taking in a deep breath, I turn my head to make eye contact and smile awkwardly at the stranger. She is crying and mumbling to herself. Something is wrong. This woman is not normal. My companion rolls down my window... Warm summer air fills the car.

Before I know what is going on, the woman has reached inside our car, grabbed my hand and shoved a ring in it. I sit there. Frozen. What just happened? Why is there a diamond ring in my hand? Click. Reaching out the window, I grab her hand and shove the ring in it. She begins crying with a newly sparked enthusiasm. Who is this woman? As if she had expected me to return the ring, her arms bolt back into our car with renewed strength and she has my hand again. This time, however, she shoves the ring right onto my finger and continues holding my hand while sobbing out, "For you. Forever. For you. Forever..." Why me?

Before I have time to figure out what to do, she releases my hand and bounces back to her car. The only thing missing is the scraping of high heeled shoes. My companion and I look at each other, not sure what to do. The driver of Ms. Humpty Dumpty's car now exits her car and hurries towards our car. Following suit, I get out and walk towards her. She demands the ring and I hand it over without argument. We both walk back to our cars and get in. Then the light turns green and life continues as if nothing ever happened.