Ray and I were married on May 8, 2010 in the Denver Colorado LDS Temple... just over a month ago. He suggested that I keep a blog so I can have my own creative outlet. His is art. He draws graffiti and is ridiculously talented at it. Give him a spray can or a marker and he'll impress. My creativity is more centered around words. My favorite thing in High School was writing essays, which I realize it weird, but I used to just sit down, write my opinion, share some facts I learned and bam. 100%. It wasn't until four years later and I was in Arkansas serving a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints that I realized I loved writing because it left me satisfied. I could express my thoughts and feelings more clearly on paper than I could outloud, so writing in my journal became a record of all my raw thoughts as I went through some of the most positive and negative emotional events of my life. So this love of words I have came up as I got to know Ray, and now he's encouraging me to continue refining my skills and often feel the fulfilment that I get as I write. I have the best husband ever.I mentioned that I had served a mission for my Church in Arkansas. Choosing to do that was smart for me, for a few different reasons.
A) Realizing my testimony was stronger than I gave myself credit for
B) Teaching people what is most precious to me and watching their eyes light up as it became precious to them too
C) Growing a backbone when faced with opposition... haha...
D) Meeting Ray
Okay okay okay. Before you get ahead of yourself and stuff with the "They met on their missions?! Did they do any actual missionary work??" type judgements, let me explain myself! Our "story" is actually pretty awesome.
I left for my mission on December 19, 2007, spent 3 weeks in the Missionary Training Center learning how to teach what I already knew, then was sent straight off to Arkansas on a flight that left stupid early in the morning. I was assigned to my very first area, which was Cabot, AR and given an awesome missionary trainer, Sister Blake... from Tonga. She was awesome, but she never really explained to me all the meetings that missionaries have to go to. I thought I'd just be teaching and tracting door to door all the time, but she kept on telling me every Tuesday that we were meeting up with a couple sets of Elders at the Church, and I didn't understand why. The first couple weeks I thought it was just because I was new and there were things I needed to learn from the Elders or something. I eventually caught on and realized that it was our District Meetings and we had them every week for training purposes. Just after I figured that one out, then Sister Blake told me that instead of meeting with our District this week, we're meeting with another Zone, so there's gonna be around 50 or so other missionaries from all over the surrounding area there. Again... Not realizing that I would experience another Zone Conference every transfer for the rest of my mission, I went in total greenie innocence and had no idea what to expect.
Sister Blake and I get to the Church building and sure enough... Missionaries everywhere. It was actually a really cool thing for me to see. A concentrated amount of missionaries outside of Utah. haha. We walk in the building and sit down in the chapel. I recognized our Mission President and his wife on the stand, along with the Assistants to the President and two other Elders I'd never seen in my life.
One of the unknown Elders stood up and started the meeting, we sang and did all the (what I found out later to be) regular stuff for a Zone meeting. Then that Elder stood up again and announced that all the arriving and departing missionaries would be bearing their testimonies. Apparently I was an arriving missionary. The Elder announced all the names of the departing missionaries, himself included, and announced all the arriving missionaries in the order they were to bear their testimony. Elder this, Elder that... Elder Dyer... Ugh... I knew he meant Sister Dyer, after all, as much as I didn't know about the mission, I knew I was the only Dyer. So the Elder sat down as an indication for the missionaries called to bear their testimonies, but he stood back up after the mission president whispered to him and corrected himself that it was actually SISTER Dyer, not Elder Dyer. I was pretty grateful for the correction, but I'm not sure why I was so embarrassed. So the meeting went on, we all bore our testimonies, and then the meeting was done. Everyone went into the gym, and that Elder that called me Elder came up to me and we started talking. I have no recollection of what that conversation was about because this is what was running through my head...
"Holy moly... He's a babe... Oh man... hot... Oh no!!! I'M A MISSIONARY!!!!!!!! STOP STOP STOP!!!! Sister Dyer!!!! You're not allowed to think like this!!!! Snap out of it!!!!"
I guess I do remember one thing from our conversation... I asked him how long he'd been out and he said 23 months... That meant he was going home SOON. I remember feeling two things from his answer. 1. Embarrassment. I had been out for one month and he had one month left. I guess I felt underqualified to even interact with him or something. After all.. He was a seasoned missionary that knew everything right?? I was brand freaking new! I didn't even know I was at a Zone Conference! haha! 2. I felt disappointment... I distinctly remember a slight drop in my stomach. I was sad I wouldn't see him around again... haha... But I've never told him that... haha...
So my mission went on, and I pretty much forgot about this babe of an Elder. Every once and a while, I'd have a companion that would show me pictures or journal entries he had written for them, and each time I was like... Hmmm... the hot one... shoot!!! not allowed!!! haha. Sometimes I voiced it, others I would just keep it to myself, but this Elder had gone home, and was totally off my mind for the rest of my mission.
The dreadful day finally came, and I was home... I didn't think it would be as much of a shock for me as it was. I came home from my mission on June 2, 2009, cried for a week straight, and took at least 4 months to be open to the idea of socializing because I actually wanted to. Thanks to my best friends, I was forced into situations (like 80's theme dances, and parties with more than 4 people) that I would have avoided like the plague otherwise, and because of those experiences I began to lighten up and began enjoying being in groups of people and doing silly, random, pointless things again.
Unfortunately in the mix of all this, there was another boy that totally distracted me for an embarassingly long amount of time. I finally came to my senses and broke all ties with him for good, which was incredibly liberating but also difficult because it kind of felt like a second coming home... which meant more adjusting. But again... Thanks to my best friends, and this time, most of all, thanks to Heavenly Father and the Atonement, I was able to get over the heartache and move on for good. I took my heart back into my own possession again, and I was finally ME again! It was incredible! It took long enough from the time I came home to when I finally felt like I fit in again. I belonged. I was free! I was HAPPY!!!!!
Life went on and I was myself and it was bliss. Then I got this random picture text from this random number I didn't recognize at all. I didn't even know what area code it was coming from. The picture that was sent to me was of one of my missionary companions though.
Since I recognized her, I knew it wasn't a stranger texting me by accident, but I also knew it wasn't her because I had her phone number, The whole thing kinda creeped me out so I just ignored the text. haha... A couple hours later, I was on my way to a concert with my little brother and I got another text message from the same mysterious phone number. I remember exactly what it said too. "Hey this is Elder Whitcomb. Is this Sister Dyer?" At this point, every single Elder I ever came in contact with whisked through my brain, but not one of them was this Elder Whitcomb that was texting me. Needless to say... I was very confused and a little bit more creeped out. My curiosity was getting the most of me though. Apparently we were missionaries together, so I wanted to figure out who the heck this guy was and why he wanted to get a hold of me. A text conversation ensued, but only for the purpose of figuring out who this creeper Elder was. I don't remember at all how our conversation went, except that I learned that the area code was from Colorado, and that his last transfer was my first. We had clearly crossed paths in that 6 week overlap, so I was getting more and more convinced that I could figure out who this guy was. Then, like a total flash of knowledge, I KNEW who it was. I don't remember the question I asked that prompted the revelation, but I could see the image in my head. It was the image of what he had written in that missionary companion of mine's journal. There was this awesome graffiti drawing of her name and a picture oh him laying down on some sort of road block that said "Beale Street". I remembered that picture for two reasons. 1. It was that hot Elder and 2. I had no idea why this picture was supposed to be funny. Turns out Beale Street is the most dangerous street in Memphis. Who knew?? Obviously not me. Anyways... That's the image that I saw in my head and I knew without a doubt that the mysterious Elder that was texting me was this hot Elder that had taken my breath away that first transfer of my mission. All of the sudden these texts weren't creepy anymore! haha! As soon as I remembered all this I asked him if he did graffiti, and I think that may have thrown him off because he asked me how I knew that... I was slightly embarrassed because it appeared that the tables had now turned and I was the creeper because I remembered that little detail. Thankfully he thought it was awesome that I remembered that, and we kept the conversation going for the rest of that concert I was sitting in. Yes I was that kid... The one texting during the whole concert, not paying any attention or respect to the artist. In my defence, I was excited about finally figuring out who this guy was and that he wasn't a creep, or someone I didn't want to be pursued by. Plus I'd already seen that artist in concert at least 3 other times so it's not like I was missing anything right? haha...
I guess I did jump to the conclusion that he wasn't a creep... After all... He DID find my number after two years of no contact, and even at that, our first and only contact had been a five minute conversation as missionaries. I thought of that later, so I asked that missionary companion what her opinion of Elder Whitcomb was, and she replied positively. That made me feel good. I never really got the "no" feeling from him anyways so I felt okay with continuing with this... whatever it was. He may have been a babe, but he's American, so my thought was that it wouldn't go anywhere anyways, but it would be an exciting adventure none the less.
Boy was I wrong. We ended up talking on the phone pretty much every night, and video chatting with Skype, and I got all giggly and twitterpated after every text and every conversation we'd have. He'd ask me all these questions that were intense and personal, and I wouldn't know what to do! I was pretty guarded at first, but that wall quickly came down, and I began telling him the answers to all those questions that I don't actually think I've ever told anyone. He taught me what real communication was. He also taught me that I could fall for someone really fast. That kinda scared me a lot. I would never admit to anyone, not even myself that I liked him as much as I did. I still had a wall up that I felt protected me. If I didn't let myself believe that I liked him so much, that meant that if he was just playing games with me that I wouldn't be hurt so bad. I guess that's just something I do. I don't know where I learned that from. I still felt he was someone I really could trust though, so that kept me from running when I felt so much admiration from him.
After about a month of constant daily contact, we had a DTR (define the relationship) conversation over Skype. Ray (no longer Elder Whitcomb) said that he liked me a lot and would like to see where our relationship would progress to, but we couldn't really do that over the phone, so "maybe, if you want to, but you don't have to, but it would really be awesome, but don't feel pressured, if you might possibly maybe wanna think about coming here for a visit." haha! He's so adorable! Luckily for him, I had already thought of that too and had come up with a solution! I would be able to get the time off work, and I could pay for the airplane ticket using my Grandma's plethora of airmiles. It was flawless! So we talked about it and decided we'd actually do it. Plans were made, and in a couple weeks I was on the plane to see him for the first time in two years.
He greeted me at the airport like it was out of the movies! He was late to pick me up, so I was just standing there with my luggage, and I got impatient and called him. He told me to look around so I hung up, looked around, saw him and bolted into his arms. He picked me up, twirled me around walked me back to my luggage then put me down and kissed me immediately. It was fantastic... I still sigh when I think about it.
That week was total bliss. It's another story altogether though. But it was that first week that we talked about marriage, and decided it was right. We were engaged on Nov 5.
The road leading up to our marriage wasn't smooth by any means. It was more like a gravel logging road or something. Ray and I knew we were to be married and I tried my hardest to withstand the opposition from my family thinking I'd lost my mind, and I wouldn't have been able to do it, had I not had Ray to turn to every night to remind me that it was all worth it in the end.
So here we are. A month after our marriage, and we're happily married. Blissful newly weds and its fantastic. I love my husband. I love that we have an awesome story that we get to share with our children. I love that I found the love of my life. I learn so much from him. I trust him with my life, and he truly does bring out the best in me. The cliche statement applies. "He completes me".
This is a record of our life. Something to look back on together and laugh at. Something to have to help us remember our most precious memories. These are our most valuable possessions.
Alison Whitcomb
