Here it is! Day 5 of "14 Days of Love Stories". This is Brad's story directly from Idaho. I took him close to a year but he never gave up and it paid off...in the end he got the girl! Brad, Nicole and their four children live in Idaho. Brad runs two blogs, a travel blog: www.worldwanderlusting.com and a "help-for-husbands" blog, www.dailycharmer.com.
Here is Brad and Nicole's Story
{ Finding My Life’s Treasure
An account of the blossoming love of
Brad Christensen and Nicole Christensen,
from August of 2000 to July of 2001
As a homesick missionary with just a few months before
heading home, I spent a day holed up in a shabby apartment in Elorrio, pouring
over the BSU class catalog for fall semester of 2000. I had concluded
that I’d study communication, and picked a few classes to that end… but I also
needed a class that would re-expose me to the world I’d been missing for 2
years. I hadn’t touched math in two years, but that didn’t sound nearly
as intriguing as the social dance class I was considering; after all I hadn’t
touched a girl in two years.” The decision was made. Months
later, I found myself in Boise. With only 5 days as a non-missionary, I
walked into the rec. room in the Pavilion at Boise State. Surveying my
options, my eyes fixated on a particularly gorgeous girl with beautiful, long,
blond, curly hair.
So, as
best a freshly returned missionary can do, I sought to make a good
impression.
The dance group gathered in a circle, and each person began
by saying their name, and making a gesture that everyone could remember them
by. I anxiously awaited the opportunity to learn this girl’s name.
Stepping forward, she said “My name is Nicole,” and curtsied. “A curtsy,”
I thought, “how could this girl get any more perfect?”
When Thursday came I arrived a little early and found her
seated against the wall, studying something. I studied the perfection of
her legs for just a moment, and then I asked her “What are you
reading?’ With a coy smile, she said, “I’m actually memorizing. It’s
something for my church.” Trying to disguise my high hopes, I inquired,
“Does it begin with ‘I believe in God the Eternal Father and in his Son, Jesus
Christ?” “Yes, it does,” she said. In my
mind, bells rang as if I had just hit the Jackpot… not only was she the perfect
specimen of womankind, but she was also a Mormon!
Thoughts of marriage flurried in my head until, like the
blaring horn of an oncoming truck would awaken a driver who had fallen asleep
at the wheel and then my daydreams came to a screeching halt as she mentioned
that she had a boyfriend. Emotionally careening off a precipice, I bit my lip and
tried to smile.
Through casual conversation, and my obvious efforts to align
myself directly across from her in the dance lines, I got to know her a little
better week by week. It was just little things at first… she liked peachy-o’s,
she was a hurdler in high school, her favorite movie was “Last of the
Mohicans,” and she worked at R.C. Willey.
One day I wanted to make some kind of gesture to indicate
that the only reason I was still going to the class in spite of an injury I
suffered during Lacrosse practice, was to see her. So on my way to
class, I stopped in at Albertson’s, hopped inside on one leg, bought some
Peachy-o’s and hopped out.
I hobbled into the dance class and positioned myself against
the wall, conveniently close to Nicole’s coat. I secretly placed the
bag of Peachy-o’s inside her coat and waited for the class to end.
When
it did end, I anxiously waited for her to find the treat and assume that I had
put them there. However, much to my disheartenment, she snatched up
her coat and went running out, without even checking the
pockets. I was about to start feeling sorry for myself when
she must have felt something bulky in her pocket. By that time I was
up and hobbling my way toward the door. As she realized what
it was, she turned and ran back to me. Her beautiful, wide smile
warmed my heart… and with an enthusiastic “thank you,” she hugged
me. It was the first time she would hug me for just a few
seconds too long.
The thrill of these exhilarating interactions was
intermittent with heartbreaking reminders that she had a boyfriend. I
felt like I had made progress by becoming her friend. I made it a point to dress a little nicer on Tuesdays and
Thursdays. I tried to make indiscriminate efforts to flirt while
still being respectful, but little did I know that she was beginning to find
“the RM in her dance class” to be quite charming in his own
right.
As the first semester wound down and the time came to choose
classes for the next semester, I was pleasantly surprised when Nicole told me
that she would be taking the intermediate social dance class in the
spring. She asked if I would be enrolling and as nonchalantly
as possible, I told her that I was thinking about it.
In the normal course of life, Christmas break would be like
a godsend, but that year it meant a month without the invigorating weekly
exchanges with the girl I had become completely enamored by. I loved everything about
her. I loved the way she was friendly to me, but still maintained
the respect to honor her relationship.
Just weeks into the semester, she questioned why I hadn’t
been at the institute skating activity… the truth is that if I had known that
she was going to be there, I wouldn’t have missed it for the
world. But in her questioning, I saw a window of opportunity…
there’s no way I would miss my next shot. And lucky for me, that next shot came
sooner than I had expected. Near the end of January, the
held a sledding activity. And fortunately enough, she asked if
I’d be going. Pretending that my interest was weaker than it was, I
said I’d see if it would fit into my schedule.
After the sledding activity, we stopped at the hot spring,
where I implored her to join me in the pool. She declined but
offered to sit around the outside while I took a dip. At the
end of the evening, the thought of parting from what had been the most exultant
ecstasy I had known, was positively harrowing. As we parked,
in what may have been the linchpin in making my life what it is today, she
offered to have me come over to see her little brother, who was just 8 months
old.
I gave her fair warning. “You know, if I know where you
live, it’s going to significantly increase my stalking capabilities,” I
said. Ignoring the warning, she invited me to follow her. I went inside and met her
family. After chatting for a while, we had dinner at Chili’s and
eventually ended up back at her house again. As the day came
to a close, we bid farewell, and there in her room, flush with track and field
medals and trophies, pictures of unicorns, and glow-in-the-dark stars, she
hugged me again… for just a few seconds too long.
I
will forever remember that hug.
On Monday, much to my dismay, a dark
cloud hung over the BSU rec. room. The angel I had dreamt of
all weekend wasn’t there.
I soon learned that she wasn’t feeling
well, and felt inspired not to let the moment of opportunity
pass. Removing the label from a can of Progresso Chicken Noodle
Soup, I make my own label, calling it “Feel Good Medicine.” I delivered it to her house, citing my
previous warning that I’d become a full-time stalker if I knew where she
lived. She was enthralled at my genuine concern for her health. Heading
home, my mind raced with thoughts of what could be. The words of
what I knew as a Bob Dylan song rang in my head… and when I got home, I
scrawled the lyrics to To Make You
Feel My Love on a piece of parchment.
By Wednesday, Nicole was feeling
better, and the angelic face I longed to behold, once again graced the BSU
campus. After the class, I felt that I had to confront what appeared
to be a tormenting situation. ”Just come with me… give me two
hours,” I pleaded.
When she agreed, I took her to the
Discovery Center. After browsing
through a number of intriguing science displays, we settled at a
keyboard. My memory fails to retrieve exactly what words spelled out
my confession on the keyboard, but I distinctly recall that she typed “Brad has
nice pecs.” We returned to the parking lot outside the Pavilion where
she began to stammer about wanting me to stay interested, but that she needed
the time to figure things out. I understood, but my love was a
burning flame, and nothing would extinguish or even dampen it. As we
parted, I gave her an envelope, inside were the words to the song To
Make You Feel My Love by
Bob Dylan.
By Sunday, I was dying to see her… and
like star-crossed lovers, we met in a secret rendezvous. It was clear that I was making headway…
in fact; she had even broken things off with her boyfriend.
In the coming week, I paid her another
visit at her house, sharing another song that was as fitting as the first: Once
in a Lifetime Love by Clay Walker. And on that night, our minds sealed
what our hearts already knew. The most breathtaking
courtship that could ever be imagined took place over the coming weeks and
months. On our first
Valentine’s Day together, we absconded to the Wood River Valley, where, with
frozen hands I clutched a key to carve the shape of a heart
with our initials into a birch tree there in the middle of a
playground at the Sun Valley Resort. As we drove home, the
anticipation of what would be our first kiss was unbearable. I made her dinner and we ate in
candlelight… With the soft harmony of “Like the Rain” in the
background, we fell for one another and kissed with all the passion of months
of pent-up affection.
By April, we had
strengthened our relationship to the point to where we simply
couldn’t be without one another. And on Easter Night, my life felt
complete as I held this pure, wonderful woman in my arms and she declared that,
in all sincerity, she loved me. Within
weeks, we had reached the point to where we were so comfortable with one
another, and so confident in one another, that we would pledge our eternal
love. In preparation to ask her to marry me, I gathered a
number of items and packed them in a hiking backpack.
We drove to Banks, and then down the
road to the fourth mile marker. Crossing the road, we headed up to
the hot springs on a cool May night. As if by destiny, the springs
were empty. We had the place entirely to ourselves. I placed
candles around the pool, set up a CD player, and poured sparkling cider into
tall glasses. Periodically, I gave her peach roses, which she
clutched earnestly. Taking the final peach rose, I pressed
play on the CD player, which softly played out Garth Brooks’ version of “To
Make You Feel My Love.” Unabashedly, I sang along, until the third
verse when I departed from the traditional lyrics, and began to sing my own.
You’re the girl that I’ve been dreamin’
of
And now you’re right here in my arms
Holdin’ you I know this is true love
And I’ll keep you with me safe from
harm
No, I’ve never met a girl like you
Never ever felt a love so true
No, there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do
To make you feel my love
As I sang, I plucked the petals from
the last rose, dropping them in the pool. Around us they floated and
as I neared the center of the rose, I unveiled a diamond ring, which I placed
on her finger, and, kneeling, asked her to be my wife for time and all
eternity. Crying, she answered, “Yes,” and my heart leapt with a
sensation that cannot be described.
Just 3 months later, on July 28th,
Nicole Poulsen, the girl in my dance class, the heartthrob I dreamt of day and
night, became my eternal companion as we were married in Idaho Falls, Idaho.
If this narrative sounds like a
storybook romance, it’s because it was… and it is. I could never ask
for a more perfect spouse. Nicole, you are more than
everything I ever dreamed of. You are my life’s true love.
Epilogue
Nicole and I have been privileged to
have four adorable children born to us. They have
blessed our lives so exquisitely, that we cannot even imagine life
without their smiles, fun-loving characters, and limitless energy. }
Isis is often shown wearing the symbol
of an empty throne on her head, suggesting her husband’s absence and
that she, herself, was the seat of the Pharaoh’s power. She carries the
ankh, the Egyptian hieroglyph of eternal life. When in her funerary
role, and as the protector of the dead, she is shown with wings. The
ancient Egyptians believed that the Nile River flooded each year because
of the tears Isis wept for her dead husband, and every year there was a
ceremonial death-and-rebirth ritual.
