Our story, part I

So while I'm waxing sentimental for my love, I'd like to share my version of our story.

For those who don't know or haven't heard how Jake and Jord came to be.

It all started with two kids growing up in Orem, Utah just 4.3 miles away from each other. No, these kids did not meet in Orem, but rather 2,098 miles away in Washington, D.C.

We both signed up to participate in BYU's Washington Seminar program the fall semester of 2001 in D. C. Jake was an intern in Congress and I worked at a non-profit organization off of capitol hill.

We took a liking to each other almost instantly, but since I turned 21 that semester, the possibility of serving a full time mission for our church was consuming my energy and leaving little time for love.

We did spend almost every weekend together- touring D.C., visiting surrounding sights, attending institute, watching BYU football, and talking every chance we got. I loved being with Jake. He was so easy to be around and I always felt comfortable, natural with him. I could be myself in his presence and we could talk about anything.

I really liked Jake. I liked him so much in fact that I was scared to date him. Because I had the feeling that pursuing a relationship with him would lead to circumstances {marriage} that could deter me from serving a mission. And my mind and heart were mission bound.

So we went on one date. He remembers the particulars a little differently than I do, but let's just say that it was a fail. And for the next few weeks I turned into the ice queen on him.

And then we came home to Orem and a few weeks later I reported to the Provo MTC.

We did have an important conversation before I left. One Friday night we met up with a group of people at the movies and I had a few minutes to talk to him alone. And in that conversation I let him know that I regretted not pursuing something with him. You know, like a second date. I told him that I felt there was something between us that was powerful and that I wished I hadn't pushed him away.

He said that conversation gave him hope.

We started writing letters immediately. (While on an LDS mission you can only communicate via letters or email and can only call your immediate family members twice a year.) Those letters are a treasure to us today.

I would write him, and he would write back, and I would write him, and it continued for the 18 months I was gone. Our letters were those of good friends communicating the things they were doing, learning, experiencing. He wrote once that he had a girlfriend and I was happy for him. Then he wrote that he was available and I was happy for me.

I remember his final letter well. It was a short message that talked about his graduation from BYU and ended with his signature followed by the words CALL ME and his cell number.

I held that one close.

When I got back from my mission my mom held an open house and invited all of my friends to come by. I remember where I was standing when Jake walked in the door with our friend Whitney. He had been working out that summer and was tanned and gorgeous. He walked over and gave me a hug and I know to this day that I felt something trip inside me.

It was a hug that was warm, safe, and felt like home.

We talked for a bit and then a while later he and Whitney left. I told him to call me soon. And he did. For our first date he took me on a run. I was out of shape, pasty white, and had no running shoes, but it was the best run of my life. We flirted, we laughed, and we talked about anything and everything. After the run I told him to call me again. He had somehow gained a new confidence in those 18 months and told me that he didn't want to be toyed with again. He only wanted to call me if I was serious about wanting him to call me.

And I was.

So he called me and we went out the next night, and the night after that, and the night after that.

Or at least that's how it felt.

It was so easy, so natural to fall in love with Jake. We had only 5 weeks living in the same town before he headed to Salt Lake for law school and I started my last year at BYU in Provo.

But those 5 weeks were magical and enough for us to know that there was something there, something real, something worth driving the 39 mile distance every weekend to pursue.