I know now that the years still ahead will race on in the same unrepentant way.
I'm grateful for a good man.
He makes me laugh and loves me so.
This week a friend asked our ten year old how we met.
She couldn't remember.
This post is dedicated to her.
On June 9th of 1988, I returned, a bit shell-shocked, to the United States through customs at the Miami airport, from a mission in Colombia. It had been a simple life, regimented by a structured daily missionary schedule, spent among people who mostly struggled to get to the next meal. Television and technology were not a part of my eighteen months in service. Winding paths through hillside neighborhoods, one room houses, dirt floors and tin roofs were the standard. It was a hard adjustment at a time in my life where the focus went from serving others, to suddenly being all about me: What was next? What about finishing school? How would I pay for it? Where would I work? Would I date?... it all sounds logical and simple, but the reality was that it was overwhelming and confusing.
I managed to secure a job right away for a temporary employment agency, and they sent me off to my first assignment at Raytheon as an administrative assistant. My leftover mission skirts and dresses became my work wardrobe. That much I felt comfortable with. (I laugh now, as I remember Dub confessing to me that at the time he didn't think I even owned any pants.) The building was full of engineers. Mostly single young men, not too far out of college themselves. The only other females in the facility were two women over 50 who worked for the manager of the group. I worked there for two weeks, and had more than a few invitations to lunch and dinner. I accepted a few, but was mostly eager to finish my assignment and get back to my senior year at BYU. There was one looming problem, and that was how I was going to pay for college. One afternoon I sat down near Gladys, one of my secretary co-horts, and asked her if she knew anything about applying for a college loan. At that very moment (ta-dah!) Mr. Dub happened through the area to make a few inaccurate snips with the paper cutter that was adjacent to my desk. (He admits that he had no business at the paper cutter; he was just trying to get up the courage to start a conversation with me. Thank goodness Gladys was there to intervene; he may have lost a finger before he came up with something on his own!) Gladys seized the moment, seized that young engineer, and introduced us, feeling confident that someone so freshly graduated from college himself (less than a year) might surely have some advice about college loans. Of course there is more to the story--MUCH more. But that's the start of it. The How-we-met of it.
Meet me at the paper cutter, Mr. Dub.
We have some celebrating to take care of.