Chapter 5: Down On One Knee

Wednesday, June 5th, 2013, Tucker was sick so I didn't get to see him at all until later that evening. I was starting to panic a little bit about any time we didn't spend together because I only had 10 days left on the continent. After putting the little siblings to bed, we were discussing wedding plans when Tucker apologized because he just didn't see how he could possibly find a ring and pull off a proposal with only a few days to go.

Thursday, June 6th, 2013, Tucker spent part of the morning at my house while my aunt, my mom, and I made a wedding cake for someone. He left right before noon to run some errands, and I didn't see him until later that evening when I went to his house. After a couple hours, we got a text from my parents asking if we wanted to come talk about "school and career paths." Uh oh. So we went and sat at my kitchen table with my mom and dad and talked about our life plans for the next few years. 

After an hour, the conversation started to wind down, and Tucker spoke up, looking at my mom and me, "So, would you guys mind if I talked to Brother West alone for a minute?" 

Ummmmm.....what?! This?! Right now?! Really?!

My mom tried to turn her head away before I could see her grinning, and we both stood up from the table and walked downstairs. I immediately flopped onto the Monster-Sak and buried my head under the giant, stuffed dog to block out any conversation from upstairs, but my mom stood in the hallway trying to catch snippets. After another ten or fifteen minutes, we heard a "We're done!" summoning us back up. When I reached the top of the stairs, Tucker was shaking my dad's hand saying, "Thank you, Brother West," and then they hugged. I walked him outside to the car, but he wouldn't say anything about the conversation, and we said goodnight.

We spent pretty much all of Friday together without talking about his conversation with my dad, and Saturday night, we doubled with his cousin, Ashley, and her husband for an awesome indoor picnic and game night. At one point, the conversation turned to Ashley's wedding ring, and Marc leaned over to Tucker and asked, in Spanish, if he had ring for me yet. Tucker quickly answered back also in Spanish, "Careful, dude. She understands," ending the conversation. Luckily, I didn't know the Spanish word for "ring" at the time, but I gathered enough from the sneaky glances and the way Tucker abruptly put an end to further questioning. We loved spending time together, but the "goodnight" at the end of each day became harder and harder as my departure date was suddenly less than a week away.

Sunday evening, we did dinner with Tucker's family. His uncle, who is from France, educated me on cheese and Belgian pâtisseries, and then we went to my family's house for dessert. Once things settled down for the night, we sat in the living room and talked about the possibility of September 20th as a wedding date. For some reason, in all our discussing, we'd somehow skipped over that weekend, and it seemed perfect, giving us just enough time to plan and before the school semester really gets brutal. Tucker also said he'd talked to his mom about taking pre-engagement pictures the following week, just to check one more big thing off the list before I left. So the plan was 1) take engagement pictures, 2) find a dress, 3) me to go Belgium, 4) Tucker find a ring and an apartment, 5) me come back, 6) get engaged, 7) plan a wedding, 8) move up to Provo, and 9) come home and get married. Crazy? Maybe a little. But doable at least. Kinda.

Exactly one month ago - Monday, June 10, 2013 - was the day I almost became an Avenger. But really. I didn't get to see Tucker all day because I was in Phoenix being injected with radioactive substance in a hospital across the street from a building called Thor Medical. I'd been having a lot of weird stomach problems, so I had to get lots of tests before I flew to Belgium, making my week even busier. Since the kids were still playing with cousins, Mom and I stopped on the way home to begin wedding dress shopping. I tried on about 8 dresses, just to start getting a feel for what styles worked on me, and surprisingly, I really liked one of them. 

The night before during our talk, Tucker had asked if I wanted to go out to dinner before going over to Granny's welcome home from Texas party at 6:30. I got home from dress shopping with a little bit of time to get ready, and Tucker was at my door a couple minutes after 5, wearing one of my favorite shirts of his. We said goodbye to my mom, promising to not be too long, and stepped outside. I was excited when I saw we were taking the truck. Lots of memories in that thing, but younger brother Ben drives it now, so it was a fun surprise that we got it for the evening. One quick glance at the blanket in the back told me we were driving out to our spot in the desert for a picnic. During the drive out there, the thought occurred to me that it would be really awesome if he proposed out here, but someday, not necessarily today. I was totally convinced of the plan we'd discussed the previous night. I was a little surprised we were driving out there for only a short picnic though, since it usually includes a long playlist of our songs and star-gazing, but I didn't dwell on it. We found the campground and parked in the shade of the saguaro, facing away from the sun since it was still a little early for sunset. We spread the blanket out in the bed of the truck and ate our PB&J and sipped lemonade and ate melted chocolate, all while talking and laughing and just being us. The weather was cooling down for the evening, and it was getting to that time of day where everything glows golden. We'd finished eating and were just sitting comfortably when Tucker turned to me and said, "Hey, I have a surprise for you. Go sit over there up on the edge and close your eyes. I'll be right back." I did as he asked, sitting on the edge with my eyes closed, complaining a little about the sun, but grinning and humming to myself all the same (Yes, I was having Prom deja vu for those of you who know that awesome story). I heard Tucker opening the truck doors and rummaging around. He climbed back up into the bed of the truck, & fiddled with some latches before settling himself on the opposite edge facing me.

I opened my eyes to see my love sitting across from me with the guitar across his lap. After a brief explanation, he began to play and sing a song called "Karli Jo Denton" that he'd been slowly writing for some time. All I remember is that it was super cute (I'm gonna hafta make him play it for me again), and that I couldn't stop grinning. The thought of a proposal crossed my mind again, but I ignored it. The song ended, and Tucker said something about how he thinks I'm awesome. NOTE: This is where my brain starts going fuzzy. There was some nervous, silly banter, and bringing up a joke we often repeated, I said, "Well, maybe we should just get married then."

Except then there was a pause.

Tucker looked up at me. "Ya think so?"

I scrunched up my nose and grinned, nodding.

"Well, in that case......." 

Tucker slid off the edge of the truck and leaned over, pulling something out of the guitar case.

He turned to me on one knee, a ring-box in his hands and eternity in his eyes. I don't remember what was said until I heard the words, "Will you marry me?"

"YES!"

I slid off the edge of the truck and into his arms. I couldn't stop hugging and kissing him, and I was laughing from pure shock and happiness. After a few moments, Tucker pulled back to look at me and said, "You didn't even look at the ring!" 

Oh yeah! A ring!

I backed up and pulled off the ruby ring I'd worn since I was 16. I held my hand out, and was suddenly doing some giggly, wiggly, happy dance to get him to put the ring on my finger. NOTE: Tucker will happily reenact this dance for you, but keep in mind that it's probably really exaggerated. He slid the sparkly, gold band on, and I went back to hugging and kissing him.

We snapped a couple quick pictures before Tucker announced it was time to get back in the car. Oh yeah, Granny's welcome home party. We got on the freeway (after a big to-do because my phone disappeared), and Tucker turned to me and said, "Ok, and now I have to tell you all the times I've lied to you in the past week. I wasn't ever sick. And I wasn't running errands on Thursday - I was ring shopping. And I bought the ring on Thursday and had it on Saturday." I grinned. The turd. But I didn't even care at at all. I soon realized that I was going to have to announce this to my whole family within a few minutes. Knowing my dad would still be at work, I began a more frantic search for my phone. When I still couldn't find it, I just grabbed Tucker's and dialed my dad's number hoping he'd pick up. I knew he had to be first on the list. Luckily, he answered, and I let him know that yes, it was a bit earlier than we'd discussed, but we were officially engaged.

I twisted the diamond ring around on my finger to hide the sparkly bit when we pulled up to the party at The Compound. We got out of the truck and walked up to the house hand in hand, a little nervous. We walked in the door to Granny's house and were immediately greeted with a chorus of "Surprise!!!!!" and "Happy Early Birthday!!!!" And then everyone broke into song and began marching around me. Apparently Tucker's surprises weren't over. He'd orchestrated a surprise early birthday party for me since I'd be leaving before mine. :) I blew out the candles and thanked all my family, the engagement still unknown. The chaos died down, and I led Tucker over to where my mom stood behind the couch. I grabbed her hand and inconspicuously pressed the ruby ring into her palm. She turned her hand over and stared at it for a second, and then her eyes went immediately to new ring that had replaced it.

And then she screamed. :) It was a happy scream, but it was definitely a loud scream. :) Everyone turned, and she held up my hand for everyone to see. And then there was a lot more screaming and lots of hugs and "Congratulations!" and pats on the back and "Finally!!!!" and "When?!" and just all sorts of happy noise. :) 

We ate some cake and visited a little bit before heading off to Tucker's house so his family could officially celebrate. We walked in, and his dad walked up and gave me a huge hug and kissed my head, and his mom was laughing because she knew all along, and the little sisters were going crazy, and the little brothers were asking why I didn't tell Tucker "no." :) It was awesome. We ended the night at my house having a good discussion with my parents, and everything was right with the world.

In the next few days, I tried on over 40 dresses, and actually ended up finding THE one. We also got our engagement pictures done, thanks to the awesomest future mother-in-law ever. Wedding planning no longer had to be covert, and I could start publicly asking advice instead of through private messages.

And then I left. I flew 5000 miles to Brussels, Belgium. And two days later, Tucker flew up to Provo. And there we've been ever since. We text every day (thank you, iMessaging!). We Skype when we can. I wake up in the morning and get ready for work just as he's getting in bed for the night. And it's tough.

But one month ago today, the kindest, most amazing, spiritual, perfect-for-me man asked me to be his wife, 

and I said yes.

And in 72 days, we will be sealed as husband and wife for time and all eternity.

Chapter 4: 4 Weeks of Bliss

Sorry this took so long to post. I literally started 5 different versions of it. It's more of a "bridge" post anyway.

How the heck am I supposed to cover 4 amazing weeks in one post?!

While Tucker was gone, and especially during the last few months, I tried really hard to not think about life in "what if"s. I tried to be honest with myself and face the reality that no one knows the future and that anything could happen and so it's best to just not have any expectations.

Everyone told me he'd be weird, that it would take some time for him to adjust to life outside of missionary world, so that's what I prepared myself for.

But Tucker was..........normal.

Actually, I take that back. He was more than normal. Before he left, we weren't boyfriend and girlfriend, we didn't hold hands in front of people, we weren't "official." And here he was, now an RM, and he was ready to jump head first into real dating. People would ask me, "How is it having him back? Is it weird?" And I'd answer, "Uh...yeah. Really weird. But only because it's so normal!"

While I'd hoped the transition would be easy, I was still shocked at how natural it was to be together again. We laughed easily. The old inside jokes resurfaced, and we quickly made new ones. We loved being together. I'm definitely NOT going to say it was like he never left, because hey! It's been 2 years! We've both changed a lot! But we remained best friends through all of it. Only a couple of days after he returned, we were sitting on the couch talking, and I asked him if he had expected "us" to fall so easily back into place. He explained that he did because while in the mission field, he worked really hard to be the best missionary he could, but that he realized that now that he's home, it was time to transition to life. In fact, I was more awkward than he was. Sure, he still had missionary quirks, like introducing himself as "Elder Denton" and drawing  parallels to the Atonement during a swim lesson, but he was definitely still the same energetic, spiritual, silly, loud, romantic, wonderful Tucker.

We spent every day together, literally. His mom used the term "whirlwind" to describe it, and I guess that's exactly what it was. Within a week of his return, we'd gone on our second "first" date, met most of each other's extended family, had our first kiss (yes, it was really THE first for both of us. No, it was not awkward at all. Yes, it was totally awesome. Save that story for later.), talked about rings, and discussed possible wedding dates. Fast? Yeah. But you have to remember that this was a looooooooooooooong time coming. and suddenly, there was nothing really in the way of plans moving forward. We'd both lived our lives up until that point in a way that when the time came, we were ready for it. I'll admit though, I definitely had some nerves the first few days. Nothing I could pinpoint, but just plain old nerves and worrying for no reason. But we talked everything out, and the nervousness disappeared.

T: "Hey, Mom! Look! Can we do this for our engagement pictures? Please?" 

On Wednesday, exactly a week after he got back, we were finally able to slip away from parents and siblings and grandparents and cousins for a date with just the two of us. Being the romantic he is, Tucker planned this "first" date to be the same as our "last" date before he left. We drove out to a desert campground and watched the sun set (no picnic this time because I was still getting over my nasty food poisoning from a week earlier) and the stars appear. I returned his "treasure" box that I'd kept safe, along with a collection letters I'd written over the last two years that were way too whiny and angsty to actually send him, and he pulled out the sealed envelope that had stayed untouched inside the treasure box for over 2 years and read it to me. A beautiful letter addressed to me that he'd written during the 7 months we were "broken up" before his mission.

The next three weeks were full of adventure. We didn't spend a lot of time doing nothing - we filled our schedules with running errands for our moms, going to sibling recitals, swimming, spending time with old friends, eating otter-pops, watching younger siblings, cutting and juicing hundreds of pounds of citrus, catching up on movies and music, going on dates. We even went to Lake Powell over Memorial Day with his family and had a blast. Nothing like seeing each other at 5 AM, smelling like the lake, and sleeping in tents to make you think they must be crazy for loving you, but that you really must love them too. ;) Mostly, we just really tried to enjoy our time with each other and not think about the fact that I was moving to Belgium exactly one month from the day he returned.

Despite the looming separation, plans moved forward. We discussed possible wedding dates, anywhere from this August immediately after I got back, all the way to the end of next summer. We looked at school schedules and narrowed down our options and then prayed and prayed and prayed. It seemed like fall would be the best option, but with me leaving, it left very little time for planning. We came to the conclusion that we'd start planning the big stuff with our parents and then make things official when I got home from Belgium at the end of August. I started browsing wedding dresses, sending private messages to friends about vendors, and pricing different things. I was a little bummed that he wouldn't be proposing before I left, but I was fine with it and recognized the difficulties he'd have in finding a ring with less than two weeks left.

Life continued on, more wonderful than I ever imagined. I realized just how much I missed all the little things like his involuntary grin as he reached for my hand while he drove, or how he starts getting loopy around 10 PM every night, or his witty sense of humor, or the feel of his hugs, or singing along to the radio at the top of our lungs, or how he'd wink at me from across the room. Every morning I woke up to the realization that he was actually home and that I actually got to see him and hear his voice. Everyday was a new adventure, but while I absolutely loved dating him, I was anxious to make things official once I got home from my summer job. Apparently, though, that sly stinker was a little more anxious. ;)

Chapter 5: The Proposal Story

Chapter 3: Home

I was a crazy person.

As the months became weeks and the weeks became days, I ran out of things to do, especially once I got home to Mesa where most of my friends were still in school. I filled my days with time-consuming, sometimes meaningless tasks, like combing out and restyling Tressie's dolls' hair and repairing Barbies with broken necks. I read the entire introduction to a book about the Mayan religion and set up an outline for Jace to write an essay (no, I didn't write it for him). I went to lots of end-of-school events for siblings as well as bridal and baby showers for friends. I read books with Troy & French-braided Tressie's hair. I helped my aunts make some big orders of cupcakes for their business. I tried some new restaurants & got food poisoning. & I stopped sleeping. No bueno.

If you know me or have been following long enough, you know that I don't sleep very well. Throw anxiety into the mix, and I wasn't going to bed until 4:30 or 5 in the morning. No sleep + plus food poisoning + plus anxiety =  very rapid weight loss and emotional instability. It was a problem.

I think the biggest thing for me was coming to grips with the fact that this huge part of my life was over. Sure, I had tried to think of life past the mission, but every time I did, my thoughts just swirled into chaos, imagining a million different potential scenarios.

When would I get to see him?

What will he sound like?

Will he smell the same?

What if I see him and go into shock?

What if I see him and melt into a puddle of tears and can't run to him and squeeze his guts out?

What if I smell funny?

Is he taller?

Will he be awkward?

Will I be awkward?

What if I see him and pass out and hit my head and get a concussion?

What if I run and jump on him and knock him over

What if I see him and can't control myself and ruin all his years of planning that special moment?

On Tuesday, the day before he got home, all I wanted to do was shop. Which is extremely bizarre for me because I normally can't stand shopping. But I did, so I spent the day at 4 different stores looking for something cute to wear when I saw him for the first time. Because suddenly all the clothes I owned seemed lame.

That night, my wonderful friends came to keep me company and check on my sanity. I sat at the table with Spencer, Jono, Caleb, and Olivia, trying to act as if it was just another normal night, but they could tell I was crazy too. Spencer and Jono made plans to dress up as ninjas and be the official, undercover camera crew for the next day. I just focused on breathing in and out.

Wednesday, May 15th, 2013 started nice and early. It seemed like practically everyone I knew was texting me and leaving me messages and calling to offer support. I went through my morning slowly with a long shower and actually taking the time to blow-dry my hair. And then I spent three hours doing a partial pedicure at the kitchen table while my mom made jam. I volunteered to pick up Troy from school and to take a family friend and her dog to the vet. Anything random to keep me busy. Twenty minutes before his flight was scheduled to land, I began the long process of curling my hair. Around 2:30, his dad sent me a picture from the airport, & I dropped my phone and squealed. 

He was home. Living. Breathing. Completely Real. 

I hurried and finished my hair, and then headed over to his house to make sure the Welcome Home sign was still in tact while he and his family met with the stake president. 

And then I went home. And laid on the couch. And waited.

Apparently, all my patience from the previous 728 days was completely used up, and I sorta lost it. I turned into a brat and started snapping at my family, especially my brothers. I was completely fed up with the whole waiting thing. Sure, he needed time with his family, but I wasn't feeling particularly rational at that time. Just impatient and irritated at everybody. Sorry to my family who experienced it and to Spencer to witnessed it. Oops.

A quarter to 5, I got a text from his mom's phone that said, "Hey I'm coming." And I flipped. A couple minutes later, I got texts from his parents telling me he'd be there in less than 10 minutes. 

Cue hyperventilation and dizziness.

Spencer called a second later on his way home from work to see if he had missed it, & when I told him Tucker was on his way, he came straight to my house, & crouched in the back of his truck video-taping the scene. 

Several cars passed, each of them bringing on a new wave of stress and excitement and nausea and mental breakdown. And then, there it was. The black suburban. Slowing down. In front of my house. Parking. And the first words out of my mouth were.......?

Oh crap!!!

The moment was here. There was nothing to do about it but go with it. No plan. No control over the situation. It just happened. I watched him walk towards the house, and then I couldn't stand it a millisecond longer. I flung open the door, leaped off the front step, & slammed into him. Hard. 

And that was it.

We were us again.

In his arms. Tight against him. Feeling his heart pound. Breathing him in.

Two years. 728 days. Over.

He was Home.

Surprisingly, my mom was the only one crying. Everything felt surreal. I refused to let go of him as he came in to say hi to my family. We made our way to his house for the big dinner, & on the way, I started nervously babbling about nothing. I noticed him watching me, and he cut me off with, "Hey. You look really beautiful." Melt. At dinner, he introduced me to his extended family for the first time as his girlfriend. He didn't once let go of my hand, and I don't think I ever got that silly grin off my face.

All too soon, he took me home. He had a meeting at the church, and he was tired.

We said goodnight, and I realized as I walked inside that it was only goodnight, not goodbye. I would see him again, in a matter of a few hours. No more two years. I didn't have to wait for a letter and imagine his voice. Because he was home for good, and the waiting was over.

And it was worth it.

Chapter 4: 4 weeks. Now what?

Chapter 2: Two Years

The beginning of Winter Semester during that first year of college meant crunch time for Tucker's mission papers. He submitted them at the earliest possible date, and then the wait for that big, white envelope began. I remember going on walks. Sometimes he got scared. Sometimes he didn't feel ready.

We talked about it all.

But not once did we mention anything about "us."

On February 9, 2011, Tucker opened his mission call.

"Dear Elder Denton....

...New York New York South Mission...

...in the Spanish language...

...May 18th, 2011..."

And so it began. 

We were thrilled. Everyone was. The fears all but disappeared, replaced with sheer excitement and anticipation to finally begin those two years he'd been preparing his whole life for. While we knew we would spend the next two years apart, we looked forward to writing letters and finally living the experience instead of just talking about it like we had been for years. 

There was never a question of whether Tucker would serve a mission or not. I always knew there would come a time when we would say goodbye for two years, and he would devote all of his time and energy to serving the Lord's children somewhere in the world. Two years apart was always in the schedule. But as I mentioned before, I'd never really expected Tucker to know how I really felt about him until after his mission. So when I found us in the position we were in, I wasn't sure how we were going to proceed. Feelings were there, but neither of us were acting on them, and I wasn't sure what the expectation was. I really really hoped he would bring it up, but I knew he wasn't planning on it. It seemed as if we would just continue to be friends, he would leave, we would write occasionally, and if I happened to be around when he got home, then we'd go from there.

March 16th, 2011 was a glorious day. I normally hated Wednesdays, but as I walked out of my late class, I was greeted by a warm, wet, spring rainstorm. I practically skipped home, humming to myself, full of happiness for no reason except that it was raining. I dropped my backpack on my bed & ran back outside, taking time to just close my eyes and breathe it in. As usual on Wednesday nights, Tucker texted me to see how horrible my day was and if I'd survived. When I told him I was out playing in the rain, the thought was too tempting for him, and he abandoned his cleaning check chores to join me at the bell tower. We ran and laughed and played  and got soaking wet. A police man even came to investigate my screams and awkwardly excused himself after he watched Tucker pick me up and dunk me in a huge puddle. It had been a long time since we'd felt so completely happy and at peace with each other. As we stood catching our breath, Tucker slipped one arm around me, and we gazed out at the wet trees. His breathing slowed, and I felt him shift his weight. And then slowly, tentatively, he pulled me into him and put his other arm around me. 

The first hug in 7 months.

I stood, hardly daring to move or breathe, not wanting to miss one second. Oh, how I missed him! We continued playing, and as he walked me back to my apartment, he squeezed my hand briefly and gave me another hug goodnight. I was over-the-moon and got plenty of weird glances from people when I skipped into the hall, soaking wet, shivering, and grinning from ear to ear.

The following Sunday night, Tucker asked if I wanted to go on a walk. It started out a bit weird. I could tell something was on his mind, and I kept having flashes of our last conversation that began in silence. And then he started making small talk, asking about my life, which was weird since he already knew the answers to those. I was a little scared that he was regretting playing in the rain and that he was about to tell me that we had to start at square one with all those rules and stop spending time together. Eventually, the conversation turned to his mission, just the same thoughts as always, but then he paused.

T: "What do you think is going to happen in two years?"

       He couldn't possibly mean what I thought he meant.

K: "Uh....well.....I'll have finished my junior year....maybe I'll have given one of my recitals. I'll have studied        4 languages & gone to Europe again...?"

T: "That's true.... Um. What do you think is going to happen with us in two years?"

       It's a trap!

K: "Um...we'll write lots of letters...?"

T: *pause...deep breath* "I guess what I'm asking is...what do you want to happen with us in two years?"

      Crap. I can't escape this one.

K: "I....want us to grow closer than we are. .......and I want things to work out."

  

     There. Let him make of that what he wants.

And then he didn't say anything - crap. I blew it. I said too much. He's already convinced himself I won't be around, and he wants me to back off and leave him alone and not talk to him ever again. - so I turned the question around on him.

K: "And what do you want?"

I pulled him out of his train of thought, and he glanced up at me. He sighed and said, "you read, me read, or me just talk?"

I had no idea what he was talking about, so I shrugged, and he proceeded to pull out a letter he'd written to me the day after the rainstorm, when he'd been thinking about "us" and what would happen. It was a beautiful letter. We both cried. And it was settled that we both hoped I'd be around when he got home from New York.

After that, things didn't change all that much. We still didn't spend much time together, and school and finals occupied most of our time. I left on a 3-week choir tour through Colorado and Wyoming, and by the time I made it home to Mesa, Tucker had 9 days left. We knew he'd have to be careful, making sure his family got their time with him, so I had to step to the side a bit.

Thursday night, we went on our last date together. We have this thing with stars, so Tucker drove me out to a desert campground & spread out blankets in the back of his truck. We had a picnic while the sun set & he gave me his box of special things to keep safe while he was gone. The sun went down & the stars appeared. He turned on a playlist of 36 of our songs, and we spent the evening talking and laughing and dancing and just enjoying being with each other. There was a brief minute where I started to get sad, but Tucker grinned at me from the other end of the truck and said, "Hey. You know it'll be worth it." 

All too soon, the days were gone. We said goodbye, sitting in his backyard, the Monday before he left. There was nothing more to say really. I will never forget when he looked at me and said, "Karli, I love you. But I will ALWAYS put the Lord first." And that's how it should be. 

stole the picture from his mom's blog. :)

We cried. A lot. And I walked out to my car barely holding it together. But after a couple hours, a soft, surrounding peace filled me, and I knew things would be ok.

That peace stayed with us the entire two years. We wrote letters. We sent a few packages. We never called or skyped. I won't go into too much more detail, since I wrote a whole post about my waiting experience the day before he got home, but I just have to say that I'm so glad we did it the way we did. We both strengthened our testimonies, grew closer to the Lord, improved our relationships with people, and became better individuals. It was a critical two years for both of us, and through hundreds of letters, we came through it still on the same page.

I can't believe how fast it went. Around Christmastime, we found out that he would be returning home on May 15th, 2013. It still seemed forever away, but the months sped by and never slowed down enough for me to feel ready. I distracted myself with anything I could - work, school, finals, a roadtrip - but nothing worked. I started having dreams about him coming home, and I saw people all over campus who looked like him at first glance. I think my brain was trying to prepare itself. I quite literally turned into a crazy person, as my family will testify. I did everything I could think of to prepare, but how can you possibly prepare for something like that? 

For that moment when the past 730 days disappear and it's just you and him like before...

Chapter 3: Home

Chapter 1: Once Upon a Time.......

I met a boy.

We think we were 10, when his older sister Heidi and I carpooled to gymnastics together, although maybe we met when we were 6 since he lived in the same ward as 3 of my aunts & uncles, and I occasionally visited for baby blessings and such. Or if we want to get really weird, maybe our moms passed each other in Dr. Judd's waiting room in Provo, UT while they were pregnant with us at the same time 21 years ago.

However we met, I remember glancing up when Mr. Peterson called out "Tucker Denton?" on the 7th grade science roll, first thing in the morning on the first day of 7th grade at Poston Jr. High, and knowing immediately that he was Heidi's brother.

We became friends. We teased each other in science. He sat right in front of me in reading. We had the same ELP social studies and English teachers. We both sang in choir. And we both signed up for National Academic League. Yes, it's really as nerdy as it sounds.

Heck yes, baby. Tucker and I are on either side of the kid front and center.

Anyway. So by 8th grade, we were pretty good friends, and by 9th grade, we were hooked at the hip. People told us how cute we were together, but we just had the Simba & Nala mindset of "I can't marry her! She's my friend!" We were partners in seminary and sang musical numbers together. We stayed after school together once to finish a project and got in trouble because our parents didn't know where we were. We were loud and silly and obnoxious and happy. We were Best friends.

Aida 2008

January 31, 2007 was a rare, raining day. The heavens poured buckets, and our pants were wet up to our knees from sloshing across the street to seminary. During lunch time, our friends huddled under the overhang of the nearest building, shivering and trying to avoid getting totally soaked. But not Tucker and me. We climbed up on top of our lunch table and started singing and crazy dancing. Why? Because we're awesome. And rain is awesome. We got absolutely soaked. And as we parted ways for our next class, Tucker tossed me his jacket to keep the rest of the day so that I wouldn't freeze to death. That night, as I wrote in my journal, I realized something. Tucker was the answer to my prayers for a best friend. I went through a couple hard years with fake friends, but not real friends, and all I wanted was one person who would be my real friend. And here he was. And I realized I loved him. What? Yeah, kinda crazy, I know. Cuz 14-yr-olds are not supposed to know how to love, and it definitely weirded me out a little. But ya know what? I did love him. Sure, it was a young, sweet, innocent love, but I did. He made me smile. He made me laugh. I could be completely myself around him, which is saying a lot for that awkward age. I loved that he loved dancing and singing and Star Wars. He was already so spiritually grounded, far more than a lot of our peers, and we both strengthened our testimonies under the guidance of our favorite Brother Nielsen. He was my very Best friend. And as our friendship grew, I was reassured over and over again that he would be very important in my life someday. However, I also felt the very strong prompting to not do anything to ruin the fact that we were best friends
 and that if I could do that, things would have a chance of working out.

Kind of a lot for a 14 year old to swallow.

High school began, along with quite a few years of repressing feelings from my best bud. We spent a lot of time together. We learned to drive in the same purple PT cruiser and black jeep with the sticky brakes. We went to football games and friends' parties on the weekends. We did summer musicals in the community together. We toured Austria and San Francisco with our choir. Tucker taught himself how to play the guitar and began writing songs, which proved quite useful wooing nice, pretty girls that he liked. And guess who got to preview the songs to make sure they weren't too cheesy? Yours truly. :) Sometimes I convinced myself I was crazy. There was no way I could actually know things would work out someday, right? I tried to force myself to have crushes on other guys to distract myself, but then Tucker would go and do something cute, and I'd be lost again. Poor Joseph was my sunshine through all of it. I vented to him about Tucker, & he just encouraged me & told me I wasn't crazy. & he vowed that if Tucker got home from his mission and still didn't know how I felt, then he'd tell him for me. In December 2007, Tucker staked his claim to be my first date & took me out 6 months later on the day I turned 16.
We also went to our first high-school dance together, which just encouraged everyone else who believed we were meant to be.

Honestly though, high school was a blast (except for most of junior year, which was just hard & exhausting in every way). We have the best group of friends in the whole world, and senior year especially was just a ton of fun with everyone. That was also the year that Tucker began to catch on. He went through a bit of a rough time, and I was always just the best friend. He once drove me around my neighborhood for an hour refusing to drop me off until I told him who I liked, thinking I had a crush on Joseph. I just told him that it wasn't the right time yet, which bugged  him, but he accepted it. New Years Eve 2009, I had a big party at my house. We were all downstairs watching Up, and someone started a pillow fight. Conveniently, one of the pillows landed across our laps, and within minutes of the movie starting, Tucker started playing with my pinky. My heart went crazy, & I thought I would explode with happiness when he finally grabbed my hand. Needless to say, I didn't pay much attention to the movie that night.

And then nothing for 3 months. Talk about frustrating.
But honestly, it was a bit of a tricky situation. With such a solid, deep, wonderful friendship at risk, introducing stronger feelings was a little scary because if something went wrong,
we'd both crash and burn hard.

Finally, with some encouragement from his mom (thank you, Jenny!), Tucker asked me to Senior Prom. That's an entirely different story for a later day, but Tucker recently told me that it was then that his mindset changed from "Karli's a girl" to "Karli's my girl." He kissed me on the forehead outside my hotel room overlooking San Francisco Bay a week later, and when Prom finally rolled around, he surprised me at the end of the night with 2 songs he'd written for me on his guitar - the first two I didn't get to preview for him. :)

Life after that was awesome. We graduated & spent a few weeks together before Tucker moved up to BYU early in June for summer term, and I surprised him 2 weeks early in August. Between work schedules, we spent every moment we could together. As school approached, Tucker started acting a little funny. I knew something was on his mind, but I trusted that he would just talk about it when he got it all sorted through his head.

One mid afternoon, we went for a walk. The sun was merciless with not even a slight breeze to give relief. I could tell something was bothering him. We walked for 10 minutes without even saying a word, not holding hands. We finally sat down in the shade. More silence. Finally, after at least 5 more minutes, Tucker whispered, "I hate not knowing what to say.....especially when something needs to be said."
And I knew.
We were breaking up.
Essentially, we never expected to end up in a relationship before his mission. Tucker needed to focus on preparing for that, and adding a girlfriend to the mix wasn't going to help anything.
I knew everything he was saying was true, but that didn't make it hurt any less.
We talked through it and established all sorts of rules. We needed to make new friends and branch out from each other. We needed to focus on school. We needed to limit our time with each other, including texting and phone calls. We were pretty thorough. And it was tough.
For a long time, the only thing that brought me any sort of comfort was that I knew Tucker was following the Spirit and acting through diligent prayer. And because of that, I knew I could trust his judgment.

But within just a couple months, I began to see the silver lining and the tender mercies of the Lord confirming that this was what we needed to do. Our friendship deepened, and we remained solid best friends. We still talked, and even though we spent less time together, Tucker showed me through small and simple things that he still cared. I sometimes wished we could be more, but I realized how incredibly blessed I was to have that guy as my best friend, and that even if that's all it ever was for life, I would still be so blessed.

Chapter Two: Two Years

"Waiting" for a Missionary: A Taboo Topic

I don't know if anyone ever exactly plans on waiting for a missionary. 2 years with no contact except a few short sentences scrawled out in a hurry sent through snail mail and maybe emails depending on the mission? 

You'd be crazy. 

And then you have to deal with all the talk. Waiting for a missionary isn't exactly widely accepted among the LDS culture. There's absolutely no church doctrine against it (and many of the current church leaders actually wrote their now wives while on their missions), but people in general have developed a bad taste towards the idea mostly from bad personal experiences. And let's be honest, I'm not afraid to admit that most of the time it simply doesn't work out. Two years is a long time. People change. Feelings change. And there is certainly no shortage of RMs waiting to sweep up any girl missing the comforts that come with having a male around.

People judge you. If he's really being the best missionary he could be, he can't possibly be writing to you. People can be rude. They say whatever they're thinking and then laugh about it. If you don't learn quick to laugh with them and ignore it, it can hurt. As soon as they find out you're keeping in contact with a missionary "friend," they launch into some story about a former companion who got "dear johned" and couldn't focus on the work. Or a companion who had a faithful girlfriend and couldn't focus on the work. Or a companion who went home early because he missed his girlfriend too much.  For some reason, people are quick to remember the negative stories. And there are certainly a lot of them. But just like anything in life, if you look for the positive, you will find it.

Somehow, a lot of people begin this adventure, and only a few actually finish it. The wait is different for everybody. Some people dated a long time before the mission, and some people randomly started writing a missionary at one of those "let's write the missionaries" church activities and actually connected. Some girls choose to date, while others feel that dating is unfaithful and wrong. Some girls go out and fill their lives with adventure, crossing off bucket list items, and some girls sit in their room with a gallon of chocolate ice cream and a stack of chick flicks and DVRed episodes of Say Yes to the Dress. Some write letters every day, and some only every few months. Some have solid plans for the future, while some are merely hoping. But regardless of how you wait, it's a roller-coaster of emotions.

So what has been my own experience with "waiting"? Well....

Two years ago, I said goodbye to one of the most important people in my life. I didn't plan for my life to go that way. I wasn't one of those girls who thought of writing a missionary as romantic. I didn't have a boyfriend in high school. In fact, with all those painful years of training my emotions and hiding my developing feelings from my Best friend, I wasn't even planning on confessing anything until after Tucker's mission anyway. And if I didn't do it then, Joe threatened to do it for me. So, we didn't really ever date. However, when Tucker finally realized half-way through senior year that I was a girl too, things changed a little bit. By the end of the school year, it was well established how we felt about each other, but we didn't ever become exclusive. We felt it was important to follow the Church's counsel to save serious dating for after missions, and so we continued to go on groups dates with lots of different friends. School ended, and things moved quickly. A little too quickly. Everything just worked between us. It was easy. Growing up together, there were no major surprises, and we fell hard in love. BRAKES! Oh yeah. The mission. So we stopped it all. We made new friends and focused on school and only saw each other a couple times a week at most. Painful? Yes. But while I would never want to go through that again, I soon realized why it was necessary. We both grew so much that year. I learned to lean on the Lord and receive my own answers to prayer. I met the 3 best "brothers" who took care of me. Tucker completed his mission papers and received his call to the New York New York South mission, Spanish speaking. And the friendship between Tucker and I grew even stronger and deeper without the complications of romance. And then about two months before he left, Tucker unexpectedly felt very strongly that we needed to establish how we actually felt about each other. So we did, and he confessed he wanted me to wait for him.

But what does "waiting" mean exactly? I certainly wasn't going to sit around for two years waiting for him to come home. In fact, I actually hate the term "waiting" for that very reason, the negative connotation associated with it. I much prefer "preparing." Preparing for the future, regardless of whatever that future may be.

And so he left, and we wrote. I wrote weekly letters, and he wrote when he had time, which sometimes was only every 3 weeks. People told me I was a distraction, but I simply answered that I was following the Lord's plan for me personally and that Tucker was following the Lord's plan for him personally, and that if those happened to match up in the future, then great. When I asked Tucker about it, he pointed out to me that I can't make him trunky. Only he has the power to choose how he reacts to things and that if he ever got distracted, it was because of his own weakness. And many of my missionary friends have told me that most of the time, it is mail from family, not girlfriends, that makes a missionary the most trunky. Granted, that didn't mean I went crazy with the letters. I asked him questions about his mission and the people he was meeting, which he didn't have time to answer usually, and I kept him up to date on the lives of all our friends. I sent packages every few months, usually full of junk food, and he sent me his name-tag the first Christmas that I've kept on my key-chain on the same ring as the yellow knot of cloth from the Title of Liberty we made in Bro. Peterson's seminary class to remind us of what we're fighting for daily.

Did I date while he was gone? Kinda yes and no. Yes, I went on several casual, fun dates with nice guys. I almost always said yes if a guy asked me out and I was free, but I never got into a relationship. It wasn't something I stressed over. If I felt like going, great! If not, great!

Sometimes, it was hard. I watched a LOT of Say Yes to the Dress. I ate a LOT of ice cream. and I ate a LOT of Oreos and peanut butter. I cried. I got lazy in some classes and stopped caring. I never bothered to really develop friendships in my ward. I went through a phase of depression that lasted 3 months. I ate too much Taco Bell. I didn't sleep enough. I was late to my first class almost every morning.

And sometimes, I was really adventurous. I toured England and Wales. I read the entire Book of Mormon in Spanish. I studied languages. I got into my major. I volunteered. I went on random roadtrips. I entered into competitions and did lots of auditions. I almost died when our car spun out on black ice. I took random classes. I started eating out every once in awhile and trying new foods from all around the world. I developed a love for fancy cheese. I made some awesome friends. I served in my church calling. I quit my old job and got an amazing new one. I received scholarships. I considered serving a mission. I read books and watched movies. I adopted 3 fish, 2 of which are still living. I've saved money. I've lived in 2 different apartments. I renewed my love of gymnastics and strengthened my body in the process, and I've strengthened my testimony of my Savior.

So....

Tucker comes home tomorrow. While things have worked out well so far, no one can actually know what will happen. But I feel completely confident in the fact that I have not wasted these last two years. I have grown as an individual. I know more about who I am and the things I want to do with my life. And I will never regret this time of my life. It's a little strange to think that this big part of my life is coming to a close, but I'm ready for the next adventure. I'm ready to see what the future brings. And I will forever be thankful for the opportunity I have had to write Elder Denton as he served the Lord's children in New York. His last group email confirmed to me that he has grown into a mighty man of God. He has changed and matured more than I ever expected, and I am so blessed to have him back in my life.

To quote Markie: "Have you seen this?! It's about you and Tucker!"
Letters, New York, coming home... I can dig. :)

Happy Birthday, Superman

Fair Warning. This is a "boy" post.

But this boy...

around the time when he and I first started becoming really good friends at Tabitha Cox's 14th bday party in 8th grade. It was his first boy/girl party.

who turned into this boy...

studly Prom date- 2010

is my Best friend. And not in the "we're dating and spend every second together and so now I refer to him as my best friend because I don't spend any time with my female best friend any more" kind of way. No, that just annoys me. We're legitimately best friends in the "we've known each other for 8 years and been through it all together" kind of way. And he's leaving tomorrow. So he gets his own post. Special.

I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you:

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good.

 Cheesy? Maybe. But so is he.

I guess we all have someone in our lives like that. I like to think mine's special, and he is, but I suppose we all can relate to one extent or another.

2 years. Some think that's an impossibly long time. and sometimes, it feels that way. He's been my constant Best friend since we were fourteen years old crazy dancing on the lunch tables in the rain. But hey, that's over 4 years behind me. and 4 years is twice as long as 2 years.

Not many people can claim to have been through all that we have together:

7th grade A-hour, science and reading
National Academic League
Seminary (freshman and senior year)
ELP and AA classes
Youth Conferences
special musical numbers together
musicals (and late nights building sets)
Drivers Ed...and that ridiculous purple PT cruiser and the jeep who's brakes only worked for him
boy/girl drama
Austria
additional siblings
pioneer trek
my first (his second) date the day I turned 16
friend troubles

mortal combat/light saber battles
midnight movies
parent frustrations
first and last high school dances together
lunch parties
San Francisco

a full week of unintentional matching (it was freaky)
sacred temple experiences
reading names for seminary graduation

college
randomly slow-dancing in a parking lot or courtyard or field
last-Sunday-of-the-month meetings
long walks
all the talks and tears and hard things we've watched and helped each other go through

Some of our adventures...click to see bigger

...just to name a few.

I've known it was coming. He's been going on and on about it for as long as I can remember. And that's how it should be. And now that it's finally here, I'm so happy and excited for him.

It's just hard when your adventure buddy disappears, the one who's been there through it all, who catches all the subtle sarcasm and facial expressions, the one who articulates your thoughts when you don't quite know how to, who was there for a talk the second you asked, or randomly showed up at your doorstep with a bottle of Sprite stolen from a roommate when you have the flu, or slipped a bag of chocolate under your door with a note when you were having a particularly rough day.........yeah.

Because that's the kind of person he is. And he's oh so ready to serve the people of New York City. He is strong. and he will do miraculous things.

So here starts the letter writing.

Dear Mr. Mailman,

Let's cooperate.

I really hate it when I get a letter back that I sent several weeks ago with a little yellow sticker that says, "Vacant: Unable to forward." Don't play games with me. I know very well that's Jeff's current correct address because everyone else who's writing him said so, and they're not having any problems. I mean, he's only in Alabama. It's not like he's over seas or anything. You don't have foreign customs to excuse your folly.

Speaking of over seas, you seem to have no problem with that one, even if it does take a little long. Jono got his letter, and I had one in return from him within a couple weeks. Everything went swimmingly. FYI, I put another one in the mailbox this morning to be shipped off to England, so I better not find it returned in my mailbox after a month. If you can do England, what's the deal with Alabama?

Warning. In the next few months, I will have you traipsing your United States' Postal Service blue-trousered hiney all up and down Long Island, Staten Island, and Bermuda. And I expect no problems. So suck it up, and start making things work. Tucker will get his letters. Or else.

Do we have an agreement?

Thought so.


Love,
The girl whose friends are all leaving on missions cuz they're so awesome so she makes sure you're provided with a job.