10-Year Anniversary: How I Met Sam, Part 1

Well, it's been ten years since we were married; I guess we'll go for another ten. That's what we always say when we reach a milestone. It makes eternity a little less daunting. I think the first time we ever said that was when we had been married two weeks: "we've been married two weeks, I guess we'll go for another two." As I reflect on the last ten years, I am amazed at how quickly time flies. I'm also amazed that these have been some of the happiest times of my life. I have to write a little about the events that shaped the last ten years. I have to back track to 1997 when I was on my mission in Brazil. I had dated a boy for a few years (since my senior year of high school). I thought that he was the love of my life, despite all the warning signs I received before I sent him on his mission, and before and during my mission. I don't want to mention all of the warning signs, but one that stands very clear in my mind is the blessing the Stake President gave me when I was set apart. He said that I would FIND someone who would make me happier than I could imagine. Even though those words jumped out at me at the time, I was stubborn enough (and supposedly too in love with my missionary) to think that I could still marry this boy I had sent on a mission. He returned home from his mission 9 months before me. Well, three-fourths of the way into my mission I got the lovely "Dear Jane" letter.  That was a dark time for me. I knew it was coming.  In fact, before I opened this letter from him, I turned to my companion and said, "Let's see who the fluffy thing is." I just knew what the letter would say. Three days later I got a love letter from a married member of the branch I was serving in. I knew that meant instant transfer. In speaking to one of the members about all that had happened to me that week, and expressing the pain of a broken heart, she said to me, "Sister, you're going to meet someone, and they'll be a little better, and then you'll meet another, and another, and so on. . . " Then she said, "Marry someone who served a mission in Brazil." That instant I perked up and thought to myself, "Yeah, I think I will, and also someone who is musical." There goes my stubbornness. I also decided that I would marry a local. I was done with foreign men, and as far as that was concerned, anywhere past Colorado was foreign to me. I wanted to marry someone who had a similar background, who was musically talented, and who served a mission in Brazil. Of course, being a worthy priesthood holder and all that is important in spiritual matters was on that list. I got transferred from that area and ended my mission in the Londrina, Parana area. When I got home, I felt so lost and I had no direction. A good friend of mine came over the day I got home and told me he had reserved an apartment for me at the complex he managed. He knew my ex boyfriend, and he was aware of what had happened between us. I readily accepted his offer and two days later I went on vacation to California. When I got back I moved out, immediately started school and work, and a new uncertain life. I don't know what it was, but before my mission, guys never paid attention to me.  All of the sudden, the wierdest men were coming out of the woodwork. My roommates, who were not returned missionaries were jealous, I think, of all this attention (which was unwanted).  None of these guys met the criteria I had set. I was dead-set on marrying someone who served in Brazil. I went on dates, and there were a couple of guys who were interested in me, but I felt no spark or interest in them. A week before conference our apartment flooded (the water heater broke and I woke up to about two inches of water in the whole apartment). I had to move in with my brother and his wife for the week. Friday night came and I went to a couple mission reunions, and had a blast. The next day, I was putting my apartment back together and listening to conference when some wierd guy in my ward came over. My roommates had left just a few minutes before he arrived and I went into panic mode. This guy had the reputation of being the NCMO king (Non-Commital Make Out). I guess I was his next target.  I left the door WIDE open as I cleaned.  He wanted to watch conference at our apartment. I told him that he could but I was busy cleaning up. Well, Elder Richard G Scott was talking, and I always love to watch him speak, so I sat down in a banana chair in front of the couch. I wasn't going to sit on the couch where he was. Well, he started tickling my neck with his foot--GROSS!   I lost it. I turned to him and said, "Touch me and I'll kill you!" He laughed (insecurely) and said, "You don't know me well enough to kill me." I replied, "I don't have to!" (Did I mention I was stubborn?). He got the drift and left. That was the day before I met Sam.