And the answer may surprise you....
The first decision of my life that I really, seriously prayed over was where I should go to college. I was not planning on going to BYU. We had 40 students from our ward at BYU the year I didn't go there, from freshmen to graduate students,and I had never planned on being one of them. I wasn't going to school to get married, I was going to get an education. (All of you who know how that turned out, I can hear you snickering.) I knew that wasn't totally fair, but BYU just didn't grab me.
I realized that this decision could set the course of my future life. I would have a good experience, or not, I would potentially meet someone to marry--I did hope to get married, honest, but figured it would be a while--I would place myself in a good pathway for my future, or it could be a disaster. Who could predict for sure? Only the Lord knew what might lie ahead, and I was confident that he would guide me.
My mother graduated from Wellesley in Massachusetts. School friends all around were planning on the Ivy League or small private colleges. My doctor nixed New England for the cold--see, I had this unfortunate habit of getting bronchitis every winter, especially about the end of term when I was exhausted. I looked at Swarthmore and Bryn Mawr in Pennsylvania. I got the recruiting mail that everyone did who took the SAT's, and mostly tossed them, but one grabbed me.
Texas Christian University in Fort Worth sent me a letter about their honors program. Everything about the school felt like a good fit, except that there did not appear to be any LDS students anywhere. There was no Institute of Religion, there was no Deseret Club listed in student organizations; my mother offered the opinion that the area probably sent all their college kids to BYU. I was less and less anxious to stay in the East with all the campus protests and militance reported on the news--I did not long to be the object of constant scorn as a person of faith. I didn't want to battle the world; I just wanted a good education in a supportive environment.
In the end, the only schools I applied to were the University of Utah, where I had my mother's family and the guarantee of a scholarship, and Texas Christian. I was accepted at both, and prayed more. I was committed to church activity, and wanted the Institute program--there must be something. I really wanted to go to the medium-small school with the honors program that felt like a perfect fit, and hoped there was some way that this would be my answer.
When the answer came, it was clear and to the contrary. "If you go to Texas Christian, you will marry the wrong man." That answer floored me. I had not had a single date with anyone, didn't until the summer after graduation, and marriage did not seem among my nearest prospects.
I dragged my feet, letting deadlines pass, in notifying TCU that I would not be attending, though I confirmed with the University of Utah quickly. Going out to Salt Lake early and staying with my aunt and uncle probably helped in getting me emotionally settled. It was nice to have family right there, and my uncle was on the faculty.
I fielded the questions to an out-of-state student from the east coast: I must be a dancer? nursing student? Those were apparently the two most likely programs to draw people from out of the area. No, I'm an English major. How did you end up here, then? I have family here, my father graduated from here, and I have a scholarship. Okay, that made sense.
The opening social for our student ward was an early Halloween party in mid-October. The group got counted off into teams, 1-2-3-4-5-6, all the'1's start over here, the '2's here, etc. We bobbed for doughnuts on a string, had a pumpkin carving contest, and I don't remember what else. One of my fellow '2's was a fellow with black hair, remarkable blue eyes, ready grin, and a senior law student. He was from Brigham City, which was where my roommate was from, and where my dad's family was from before my grandfather ended up in Nevada. I was trying to keep everyone straight, but those were sufficient memory points for me to say hi to him on Sunday.
If I had grown up in a different place with a different school cut-off, the Lord would have had to find some other way for our paths to cross, because I would not have been at the university in time for us to overlap. My birthday is in September, and I would have started school a year later if I lived here, for instance. But He would have made it happen somehow, some way. Because we are coming up on our 39th anniversary this summer, and our life together is no accident.
I realized that this decision could set the course of my future life. I would have a good experience, or not, I would potentially meet someone to marry--I did hope to get married, honest, but figured it would be a while--I would place myself in a good pathway for my future, or it could be a disaster. Who could predict for sure? Only the Lord knew what might lie ahead, and I was confident that he would guide me.
My mother graduated from Wellesley in Massachusetts. School friends all around were planning on the Ivy League or small private colleges. My doctor nixed New England for the cold--see, I had this unfortunate habit of getting bronchitis every winter, especially about the end of term when I was exhausted. I looked at Swarthmore and Bryn Mawr in Pennsylvania. I got the recruiting mail that everyone did who took the SAT's, and mostly tossed them, but one grabbed me.
Texas Christian University in Fort Worth sent me a letter about their honors program. Everything about the school felt like a good fit, except that there did not appear to be any LDS students anywhere. There was no Institute of Religion, there was no Deseret Club listed in student organizations; my mother offered the opinion that the area probably sent all their college kids to BYU. I was less and less anxious to stay in the East with all the campus protests and militance reported on the news--I did not long to be the object of constant scorn as a person of faith. I didn't want to battle the world; I just wanted a good education in a supportive environment.
In the end, the only schools I applied to were the University of Utah, where I had my mother's family and the guarantee of a scholarship, and Texas Christian. I was accepted at both, and prayed more. I was committed to church activity, and wanted the Institute program--there must be something. I really wanted to go to the medium-small school with the honors program that felt like a perfect fit, and hoped there was some way that this would be my answer.
When the answer came, it was clear and to the contrary. "If you go to Texas Christian, you will marry the wrong man." That answer floored me. I had not had a single date with anyone, didn't until the summer after graduation, and marriage did not seem among my nearest prospects.
I dragged my feet, letting deadlines pass, in notifying TCU that I would not be attending, though I confirmed with the University of Utah quickly. Going out to Salt Lake early and staying with my aunt and uncle probably helped in getting me emotionally settled. It was nice to have family right there, and my uncle was on the faculty.
I fielded the questions to an out-of-state student from the east coast: I must be a dancer? nursing student? Those were apparently the two most likely programs to draw people from out of the area. No, I'm an English major. How did you end up here, then? I have family here, my father graduated from here, and I have a scholarship. Okay, that made sense.
The opening social for our student ward was an early Halloween party in mid-October. The group got counted off into teams, 1-2-3-4-5-6, all the'1's start over here, the '2's here, etc. We bobbed for doughnuts on a string, had a pumpkin carving contest, and I don't remember what else. One of my fellow '2's was a fellow with black hair, remarkable blue eyes, ready grin, and a senior law student. He was from Brigham City, which was where my roommate was from, and where my dad's family was from before my grandfather ended up in Nevada. I was trying to keep everyone straight, but those were sufficient memory points for me to say hi to him on Sunday.
If I had grown up in a different place with a different school cut-off, the Lord would have had to find some other way for our paths to cross, because I would not have been at the university in time for us to overlap. My birthday is in September, and I would have started school a year later if I lived here, for instance. But He would have made it happen somehow, some way. Because we are coming up on our 39th anniversary this summer, and our life together is no accident.
I agree. It is amazing how paths cross. My late wife and I didn't quite make a 39th anniversary. She passed away at 38 years and 7 months -- three and a half years ago. How we met is a bit of a long story, and I'm not even sure I've told Alison.
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