i love to sing hymns. i was raised sitting on wooden pews next to my mother and father with a blue book in my hands as a group of people stood together singing in beautiful harmony. the singing wasn't always beautiful, but the tradition made up for any human inadequacy.

i never knew what love meant. i knew the love of my parents, the love of my community and the love of my brother, but i never thought i would understand what love actually meant. love between two people from separate families seemed illusive. it seemed like one of those lofty ideals we so freely preach without really feeling it at our core. (one example i would draw from is our uninhibited use of the word 'freedom' without ever taking into consideration what the word actually means.)

then it happened to me. i fell in love. i fell in love a long time ago and the reason i hadn't talked about it earlier on this website is because, well, i like to be anonymous with what i see and try to make postings as acceptable to a broad audience as possible. this is different. this is me. the following groupings of words are the feelings that are plowing through my person.

her name is rachel lee swartzendruber. for those of us that do not personally know us, it may come as a shock that we are engaged to be married. for those of us who know us personally, i believe little shock is in order.

i have spent the last month with rachel traveling around vietnam. the month before i was busy. those are the reasons i have not written.

we began our journey soon after her plane landed. we traveled down to the mekong delta by bus to attend a wedding in the town where i was working. the wedding was beautiful and we spent our time together looking at the university, the town and exploring the markets and countryside. that was about one week into her stay here.

i proposed to her on top of an observation tower in the middle of a wetland preserve that is off limits to the public at large. i proposed to her by reading a poem i had written about how much she meant to me. i told her how natural i felt when i was with her. i told her how much i need her. i told her how i could think of no one else that i would rather have in my life. i have never met anyone that is so similar to me. i have never spent time with anyone whose differences so nicely compliment my own. she smiled at me with her eyes and her mouth and told me that she would marry me. we stood on top of that tower and felt the cool breeze blow against us. it was perfect.

i guess love is something that happens when two people feel truly honored enough to be sharing the same space. we are honored by each others presence.

the next week of our trip was spent in saigon where we jumped from coffee shop to coffee shop talking and laughing and making wedding plans. we talked about our families; we dreamt about the future, we talked about our fears and what kind of parents we would be. we both, as my grandfather would say, come from good stock.

the last week of our trip was a bit more adventurous. we mounted a motorcycle and strapped a giant, 20$ piece of luggage on the back and drove 5 hours up the coast of vietnam in order to find the beach. the bag was red. it was the red of those tomatoes that one can find in western grocery stores that look as if they have been pressed in God's own genetic mould. it was a flashy bag. the bag made driving all that more difficult but we took our time racing north and eventually found ourselves at the beach. rachel sat behind me and read to me over the roar of traffic. she read from a racy john grisham novel, one that plays on our fantasies and fears. we sat on the beach for one week talking about the same things we talked about in saigon.

i said goodbye to her this morning at 4:30. i stood outside the airport and watched through the giant windows as she lugged her bags onto the security scanner. i stood there in a tan shirt. something welled up inside of me and pushed its way through my eyes. something burned inside of me and i was unable to control it. i could have been a feeling of loss but i don't think so. i felt alone standing there, like i was locked in a cage and there was no way out as the only thing i truly believed in, the only thing in my life that i was solidly sure about, was walking away. i couldn't see as i stood there watching her walk towards the ticket counter. i had to walk away through a sea of people. i cried the whole way home.

today was a sullen day. i drove from ho chi minh city to long xuyen on a motorcycle through hellish traffic. i had a lot of time to think on that drive. i thought about my future, grad school, the book, my work in vietnam, and life back in america. i drove and felt numb. the motorcycle would scream to attention, it would burst out with roars of furry, fear and frustration but i felt none of it. it felt strange to be alone; sure the motorcycle handled better with one person, but that only served as a constant reminder that i was traveling back to a cool, quiet room.

that's where i was the last month. i'm sitting in my room still covered in dirt with the dog lying at my feet.

i sang hymns with rachel. we exhausted our supply of new songs a few days into our trip but kept singing the ones we knew over and over again. we both were raised on those wooden pews. i love to sing to rachel and she claims to enjoy it.

my eyes well up as i stare at a dull blue screen in a dark room. i am alone.

I woke up this morning at 4:00 in the morning, mounted my motorcycle and began driving. I drove and drove and drove. I was heading for Ho Chi Minh city, a mere 6 hours sitting on a small machine wearing sandals and being assaulted by all sorts of bugs.

Driving in the early morning on a small motorcycle is a challenge, especially without street lamps. I conquered about 2 hours of the road when my phone rang. I frantically pulled to the side of the road and pulled my helmet and mask off. I sat next to a protestant church under construction and said, ?hello??

Ah, it was Rachel on the other end. She said that there were problems with her flight and that she would not be able to make it until tomorrow. I was standing on a dusty path on the side of the road before most people were up hearing that some mechanic in Denver decided that this plane should not be in the air. Really quite incredible.

Hey, in the scheme of it all, things are mostly coming up roses.