Honestly… I’m not quite sure what first drew me to her.
The next morning, I walked into church — one of those big services with more than a thousand in attendance — thinking only about the message or maybe where I’d sit. Not a single neuron in my brain fired off the thought: “Hey, maybe that cute girl from last night will be here too.”
And then... as if scripted by divine providence, I lifted my eyes — and there she was.
Brunette hair, curled beautifully atop her head like whipped cream on a sundae (you know, the fancy kind with the cherry on top). A full-length yellow dress — bright as the Alaskan summer sun — draped over her slender frame, catching not just the light ... but my attention.
I couldn’t tell you what the sermon was about that day. Just that somewhere between the opening hymn and the benediction, I found myself captivated by the girl in the yellow dress. Would I talk to her? Ask her name? See her again? All great questions. Zero answers.
Three months later — yes, just three months — her mother and baby brothers were visiting Alaska from New England, and watched her two young children. We went for a walk. Not just any walk — up Bodenburg Butte, just a short climb from her home in Palmer.
Had I considered asking her to marry me?
I think I had. But come on — three months? That’s either romance or a head injury. The more I thought about it, the faster my heart pounded. Did she even feel the same way? Would this be the last time I’d see her? Was she thinking what I was thinking?
Three months. Two kids. One wild idea.
The snowcapped Chugiak Mountains gave us a backdrop worthy of a postcard or proposal — or both. I doubt anyone had ever used that exact spot to pop the question... but I did:
“Will you marry me?”
Her answer came faster than I expected—no dramatic pause, no deep breath.
“Yes. Yes, I will marry you.”
Now, nearly forty-six years later, I still find myself deeply attracted to Karen Yvonne.
Struggles? Oh, yes. Many. But as I sit here once again at 35,000 feet — somewhere over the 300,000-miles of travel — I marvel at how blessed I am.
It took both a departure from Querétaro and a layover in Dallas to finally finish watching Dennis Quaid's excellent portrayal of President Ronald Reagan. And yes — tears welled up. Because somewhere between the Oval Office scenes and the private moments, I realized:
Karen is my Nancy Davis Reagan.
As Nancy was unwaveringly supportive of "Ronnie" — his
anchor and encourager — so Karen has been to me. From that first
missions trip to San Luis, Sonora, in 1998, to now over forty
adventures across the U.S. and around the globe, Karen has
consistently said yes.
Yes to the call.
Yes to the chaos.
Yes to the crazy man she married.
We could never have foreseen what would unfold — over thirty years of firehouse life intertwined with nearly three decades of goodbyes, airports, and separate weeks.
These past couple of years — age, circumstance, and creaky knees — have made each new trip a little more complex. And yet, it’s as if Karen says yes before I even ask the question.
I don’t know if this trip will be the last. Maybe we’ll have one more. Maybe ten. But I do know this:
Karen Yvonne Williams has been, and still is, my 'Nancy Davis'. My constant. My calm in the whirlwind.
Still five-foot-two.Still eyes of blue.
Still that sweet smile.
.JPG)
For that … I am forever thankful.
With all my love, and the deepest appreciation —
Her
still-crazy, still-grateful husband,
Rick
Forty-Six years in June ... I popped the question. Obviously ... She said, "Yes"!
