My crush

Some time last month, Mei Li came home talking about a girl in her class having a crush on a boy in her class.  I was surprised to here her use that word.  She then asked me, "Mama, how did you get a crush on daddy?"


I've thought about that question a lot because perhaps I've made people think that I had a crush on him since seventh grade, which is not really true.  I started admiring him in seventh grade because he was so wise and so different from all the other boys.  When I was fourteen, I wrote about how Steve kissed me in my dream (the journal entry was dated exactly ten years before the birth of our son).  I thought he was the greatest guy on earth, but I dated a few different guys in high school and Steve Z. wasn't one of them.


My crush didn't really start until my senior year of high school.   I mean, I didn't really start to pine for him until he was a freshman at BYU, and my on-again off-again relationship was off for the time being.


Every senior in my high school is required to take the American Identity course, and the hallmark assignment is an essay on your own identity.  Mr. Russo explained the assignment to us and then passed out sample identity papers from the previous year for all to read.  I can't remember how many sample papers he gave us, but I remember two of them.  There was the paper of some guy that didn't make any sense to me. It made me think that he didn't know at all who he was.


And then there was Steve's.  That essay was how I got a crush on daddy.  He wrote about his faith, but not in a self-righteous way.  Even though the entire classroom was filled with kids who couldn't agree with his beliefs, they could still respect him.


He wrote about the framework set up for him in the church of going on a mission, marrying, getting a job, having children, and eventually retiring to visiting grandchildren and continued church service.  There was a class discussion on whether or not this was a good thing to have your life so planned out.  One of Steve's good friends, Brian S., said, "he's lucky."  My favorite line from his essay is this:


"But when I wake up on my 21st or 50th birthday, I'll know where I am and what I should be doing."


(I can write it down verbatim because I've got the essay right in front of me.  Like any good stalker, I kept it and put it in sheet protectors.)


He inspired me so much then.  I think he'll always inspire me.


I read this essay a few times a year, each time feeling so lucky that when he wakes up, I get to wake up next to him.  I'm grateful that I'm the one who gets to be by his side visiting our grandchildren someday.


I'm grateful to be married to this inspiring, wise, handsome, and faithful man.  At times I feel undeserving of him, but somehow he sees the good in me too.  Happy Valentine's Day to my sweetheart.