Our Story

Patrick and I met on May 13, 2015.

His thick, black hair caught my eye during an evening Institute class at the local church, not only because it was directly in front of me, but also because it was gloriously Aladdin-like, and I've always liked Aladdin. It took all the power of my social awareness not to reach out and run my fingers through those luscious locks!

He noticed my laugh first— like the mating call of a pterodactyl, piercing his ears from across the room while everyone enjoyed refreshments after the class had ended.

Patrick had just moved into the duplex one house over from my own. His roommate introduced us to one another and we felt an instant connection. Maybe it was because we'd both grown up in the Pacific Northwest and shared a love for rain and forests and homespun goods, or maybe we just met at the right moment, when we were both equally open to making new friends. There was a comfortable familiarity about Patrick that I found striking. I invited him to a dinner party I was hosting that Sunday at my apartment.

When I say "dinner party," maybe you imagine a long dining room table with tinkling glasses and posh ladies and gents chortling about the latest pheasant hunt. This party was a tad less formal. There was no dining room, no table, no tinkling glasses, and no pheasant hunt to speak of. It was just a bunch of single adults crammed into the small living room of the duplex I shared with three roommates. In the kitchen, my friend from Brazil cooked up a legit Brazilian churrasco (BBQ) that filled the duplex with smoke and the mouth-watering aroma of sizzling meat. There were more people than there were chairs, so my guests made themselves comfortable on the floor, leaning up against the walls, or sitting on the porch steps. I loaded up plates with beans and rice and churrasco and wove my way through the noisy crowd of friends and strangers to make sure everyone was fed. Patrick brought his guitar and entertained everyone with music.

There's something about the way Patrick plays music that makes people stop and listen. The first time I heard him sing it was like watching a flower open — organic and beautiful and new. It felt like a gift. Once all the food had been served, I sat down to listen to Patrick. I'd heard plenty of guys play the guitar before, but this was different. It wasn't like watching someone perform a trick. It was art. There was vulnerability and sincerity and depth in every note that resonated through the air. The effortless unity of Patrick's voice with the vibrating strings had a transformative effect on everything around it, making all feel part of a sweet and sacred whole. I was in awe. When one song ended, I shot a quick text message to my best friend, Elise, to "get over here ASAP!" Someone else needed to witness this with me!

Patrick ended up staying long after the other guests had gone home. It was just me, Elise, my roommates, and Patrick sitting round the living room talking into the night like we'd been friends forever.

The next time Patrick and I ran into each other, we were the only ones to show up for an Ultimate Frisbee activity at the park. We walked around the track together despite the threat of rain. He told me his life story, I told him mine. It felt natural and easy to be together. We went out to a nearby Mexican restaurant and ate out of the same bowl. He surprised me with his sense of humor, and he ordered dessert, which felt new and exciting to me. We shared a blueberry flan, dividing it until the pieces were barely visible because we both refused to eat the last bite. I was so caught up in the fun we were having that I forgot I was supposed to be co-hosting a movie night and Patrick and I arrived an hour late! That was the beginning of a dreadful habit because Patrick and I are late for everything nowadays.

When Patrick walked me out to my car at the end of the movie night, I told him I was going to spend the weekend at Bear Lake with some friends. He asked when I'd be back.

"On Monday," I said.

He said, "That's so far away."

And that was it! We were married the following year.

Of course it wasn't as simple as that. We were married the following year, but there were a series of breakups and "we're just friends" runs and "let's date other people" episodes before that. Sometimes our friendship was like an 80's rom-com, with Patrick helping me choose what to wear before my dates with other guys and me counting down the minutes until said dates were over so I could end the night watching Star Wars with Patrick and dividing our shared dessert until the portions were microscopic. When all was said and done, we just wanted to be together. It was during one of our "we're just friends" charades, after a late-night run to In-N-Out for burgers and a shared order of fries, that Patrick said, "We should just get married."

"Yeah," I said. "We should."

It was December and snow was falling softly outside. We made plans to meet each other's families in March and Patrick kissed me goodnight.

The following March we flew to Oregon first, where Patrick met my family. Then we took a train to Bainbridge Island and I met his mother. The day turned stormy as Patrick drove me around the island, showing me his favorite spots. Rain pelted the windshield.

I was wearing a pair of brand-new, tiny, cinderella-blue ballet flats that were adorably unequipped to handle the muddy hikes that Patrick had planned for us. But when Patrick brought me down to the doc where he and his family had released his father’s ashes into the Puget Sound years before, I decided that the shoes were worth sacrificing. Icy raindrops showered us mercilessly as we dashed out to the doc hand-in-hand and watched the dark waves of the Sound toss threateningly around us.

I don’t remember Patrick’s exact words then. He spoke about lessons his dad had taught him about navigating life’s storms. Then he gave me his hat to protect me from the pouring rain and knelt before me on one knee. He pulled a ring from his pocket and asked, “Will you go through the storms of life with me?”

And of course I said yes!

We were married in the Portland, Oregon Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints on August 20, 2016 and life has been a sweet journey together ever since. We have seen our share of glorious, sunny days and just as many stormy ones. Through it all, I’ve been beyond grateful to have Patrick at my side.

Life will always have its storms, but if you can go through them hand-in-hand with your best friend, that’s a pretty good life.