I claim our first date as a couple was when Lance invited me to go watch the BYU homecoming parade in October 2001. (Which, for the record, it was.) Lance insists it was later in November 2001, when we went to watch a men's acapella group sing and then out to Leatherby's for hamburgers and an icecream sundae. He likes to say that was our first date because he not only held my hand AND told me he loved me, BUT he also gave me my first kiss. He figures he was pretty suave. Even though he is wrong about this being our first date - as it was cleary NOT - I remember that evening every time the calendar on our wall changes from October to November. He told me he loved me 8 years ago on a freezing cold bench outside the HFAC (the performing arts building) at BYU before he had even held my hand.
Right or wrong, I am just so glad he finally stopped trying to set me up with his brother and decided I would be a good match for him.
Here's to a husband who works countless hours to support our family but still manages to spend quality time with our daughter every morning while I sleep in a bit, serve valiantly in his calling at church, take the dog for her morning walk, fold all of our laundry every week, make veggie platters for Sunday dinner at my neighbors, and do everything he can to help out at home so I can finish my graduate degree.
Yup. I would say I am very lucky and forever grateful for the support he has always given me.
1 comment:
Precious! I love those kinds of stories:)
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