A Story for the Grandkids--Part I

Many times I have sat down with different friends here and there and shared the story of how BK and I met, married, survived, etc. It's a highly dramatic and painstakingly long story. But everytime I tell it, someone says, "Wow. What a story to tell your kids and grandkids someday!"


So, for your blogging pleasure, enjoy my highly dramatic and painstakingly long story for the next two weeks. Yes. It's true. I'm drawing out the story over 14 days. There will be pictures. Horrible non-digital pictures. There will be love letter excerpts. The whole nine yards, people. All to celebrate this blessed holiday of love called Valentine's Day. (Forgive me in advance for the cheesiness that will ensue--but you know, it's my blog, and you don't have to read it. I won't be offended.)

And so, without further ado--I present to you Part I. (And yes, there will be roman numerals. It makes it more official.)

When I reached the ripe old age of 16, I sought employment. I ended up landing a sweet job with a ward member who owned an LDS bookstore. I would work 15-20 hours a week, basically babysitting the store and ringing up any customers who happened to find it. It really was a great job.

Kathryn and I at Youth Conference

One of the best parts by far was that the local missionaries lived just down the street, and sometimes they would stop in to look at books and visit. Being the overly-obsessed boy-crazy teenager I was, I looked forward to this because heaven knows there's nothing more attractive than a 19 year old in a really great suit.

So one day, I was on the computer in the front office typing up some inventory, when in drops Elder Layman with his new companion.

Nice parting of the hair, babe. So hot.

Elder Layman introduced my boss, and as he did, I turned around to see what the new transfer had brought us. And was I ever pleased.
The first thing I noticed about this new Elder was that he had a great smile. He flashed the aforementioned great smile at me with his right hand extended to shake my hand.
"Hi, I'm Elder P*****," he said. (I know you all think I'm crazy for this no-last-name business, but if we ever re-open our adoption profile and I open my blog to the birthmother masses, it really is a valid concern. Anyway, back to the story.)
I shook his hand and said something like, "Hi, I'm Amy F*****." But then I felt about this big when he said:
"Oh, I already knew that. I was actually in this ward about a year ago. It was my first area, and if I remember correctly, I ate dinner at your house. You might remember me--I was wearing a sling because I had broken my shoulder at the MTC." (Playing basketball, of course)
I quickly lied and said that I remembered him. Although to this day, I still have no recollection whatsoever as to the actual first meeting of my husband.I have since asked BK to tell me about it because he remembers it. He said his initial observations of me were as follows: self-centered and worldly. Ouch. GIVE ME A BREAK--I WAS FIFTEEN.
Unfortunately/fortunately this companionship of missionaries were rather focused, so we didn't see them too often in the bookstore. But when we did, I took full advantage of my time and used it wisely.

Cami and I at EFY

One Saturday in particular I remember. Elder Layman and Elder P. came to say hello to me and my boss. I was actually going to be leaving work early that day to head to the annual stake scripture chase. Not wanting to ruin my streak of being the best scripture chaser in the stake and wanting to completely impress Elder P. with my humble spirituality, I asked him to help quiz me on a few scripture masteries.
He was very impressed. And yes, our ward went on to victory later that day. As always. You can thank me and David Garcia for that later, people.
The first time I ever talked on the phone to BK, it went something like this:
Elder: Hi, is Amy there?
Me: Yes, this is she.
Elder: Oh okay, this is Elder P. I was just calling to tell you that Ricki canceled on us again so we won't be needing you to help us with the discussion.
Me: Oh, okay.
After hanging up I just had this huge smile on my face.
I actually did sit in a few discussions with Elder P. and his lovely companion. He really was a wonderful missionary with a wonderful understanding of the gospel. I didn't get to see him at church much because he was Spanish-speaking and attended the Spanish branch, so naturally since my boss was in the branch presidency, I offered to speak in in the Spanish sacrament meeting. In Spanish. The talk went surprisingly well, and I was able to impress Elder P. with yet another one of my talents--speaking the language of his mission.
Elder P. and his companion came to the annual McKinley BBQ social that April, where I was able to show off yet another one of my astounding talents--my awesome volleyball skills. If I remember correctly, I actually ended up spiking the ball and nailing one of the other ward's missionaries in the face. This actually got mentioned in BK's mission journal! :)
So anyway, as you can plainly see, I had a pretty strong crush happening with Elder P. I saw him at stake conference a couple of weeks later and said hello. At this stake conference, I mentioned my crush to one of my teenage friends, who wisely told me, "Amy, don't mention it out loud. As soon as you do, they always get transferred."
I thought this was impossible considering he had only been in the area for 6 weeks. When I got to work a few days later, this note had been left for me and another friend who worked there:

Initially, I was crushed. I thought I would probably never see him again. Because what were the chances he would even remember me after his mission? But my second reaction was: "His first name! It's B.! That's so cute! But what does the K stand for??" I took the note home with me, and as I got in my car, the song "I Love You" by Martina McBride came on, and I just had this feeling that perhaps this might not be the last of Elder P.