our story [part 9]

Read Part 8 here.


Within the next couple of days, Tim drove up to Utah with his sister to go to General Conference, which is a world-wide meeting within our church that happens every six months.  I was determined that I would not initiate anything, but luckily for me, I didn’t have to.  We flirtatiously texted the entire two days, including during General Conference, when we should have been paying attention.

Soon after he got back, Tim texted me yet again.

I have a surprise for you.  Can I bring it by tonight at 7:30?

I told him that he could, and yet again assumed that he would probably be late.  But promptly at 7:30pm, there was a knock at the door.  I opened it to an ever-smiling Tim, holding something behind his back.  He pulled his arm around to the front to reveal a bag of cotton candy.

I stood there, feeling somewhat stunned.

I had offhandedly mentioned how much I liked cotton candy once, but I didn’t think he would remember.  And I didn’t think he would take time out of his day to get some for me.

I reviewed my mental list.  Funny.  Kind.  Smart.  Thoughtful.  On-time.  Positive.  Cheerful.  Attentive.  But more than a list of always-positive attributes, I noticed something else significant.  He seemed to really want to be with me.  And it wasn’t out of duty or some misguided sense of obligation, either.  He just liked being around me.

This was a completely new feeling for me.  And I liked it.

He asked if I wanted to come over to his house for awhile.  I didn’t even have to think about it before I responded in the affirmative.  As we had before, we spent the entire evening laughing and just enjoying each other.

When I got home that night, I told Katie about the entire night, like I always did.  When I’d finished, she said, “Wow, he is doing all the work so far!”

“I know, and I kinda like it that way!” I admitted, chuckling slightly.

“Well maybe you should invite him to do something soon,” she suggested.

I decided to take Katie’s advice.

She’d never steered me wrong before.

Go on to Part 10.

our story [part 8]

Read Part 7 here.  Or if you're a newcomer, head over to the "Love Story" tab up top.

Monday morning brought writing the hardest letter I’d ever written.

It is still incomprehensible to me that one person can feel so much sadness and happiness at one time and in one moment.

As I was lacing up my running shoes that afternoon, I got a text from Tim.

Do you want to go get Bahama Buck’s with me before we start recording?

Some strange mixture of knots and butterflies entered my stomach as I realized what that would mean.  It would be my first first date in over three years.

I excitedly read the text aloud to Katie and Chantal, who squealed loudly and immediately told me I had to go.

I texted him back and told him that I’d love to and headed out for my much-needed run.

Tim told me that he’d pick me up at 7:00pm.  In all my prior experience with dating, that meant he probably wouldn’t be there until at least 7:15pm, but probably not until 7:30pm, so I didn’t hurry to get ready.

Promptly at 6:59, the doorbell rang.  That couldn’t be Tim already, could it? I wondered.  I opened the door to find Tim’s face smiling back at me.

“Wow, you’re on time!” I said, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.

“Yep,” he laughed. “I’m always on time.  Ready?”

My next shock was the way Tim opened every door I passed through.  Every single door, including the passenger’s side door of his truck.  Then he told me I could get whatever I wanted at Bahama Buck’s, and he really seemed to mean it.

We spent the entire evening talking and laughing and getting to know each other better.  I found that I continued to like and respect him even more the more I got to know him.  Nothing seemed to ruffle this man’s feathers.  Not his recording equipment failing, not bad drivers – nothing.  He just seemed to take everything in stride.

Still unsure of myself and what I wanted, I tried to avoid touching him at all.  For now, I just wanted to get to know him better.  Make a good friend.

But it’s pretty hard to keep things in the “friend zone” when you’re recording a romantic song and enjoying each other’s company so immensely.

I learned that pretty quickly.


Continue on to Part 9!

our story [part 7]

Read Part 6 here.  Or if you're a newcomer, you can read the whole story in the "Love Story" tab at the top.

I purposely showed up at Tim’s house 15 minutes late.  A projector was all set up in the front room, and I was surprised to realize that this movie night would consist of Tim, Tim’s roommates, and me.

Unbeknownst to me, before I had even showed up, Tim had told his roommates that they “could feel free to leave during the middle of the movie if they wanted to.”  Thus, one by one, Tim’s roommates left to go “do homework,” or some other such nonsense.

That left Tim and I sitting alone on the couch.  I found myself paying more attention to Tim than I was to the movie.  I couldn’t tell if it was only my imagination that he kept inching closer to me.  Or maybe it was me moving closer to him.  I wasn’t really sure, but somehow we ended up sitting just millimeters apart.

Suddenly I found it hard to breathe.  I wasn’t sure if I wanted this yet.  I had to do something to break the tension I was feeling inside.

“Hey look what I can do,” I said goofily.  I raised my hands up in front of the projector and started making shadow puppets on the wall.  Much to my surprise, he joined right in, and we each started forming our fingers into different animals, displayed magnificently right in front of the movie we were “watching.”

We started giggling, and he started making silly comments that kept me laughing.  I was pleasantly surprised to see this goofy side of him.  I’d seen his sarcastic, teasing side, and I’d seen his quiet, serious side, but I’d never seen this silly side.  I liked it.

Eventually the movie ended but we just kept making silly comments and giggling quietly on the couch. 

Somehow the conversation turned to music, and I asked him to show me one of his songs.

“Ok, but I have one requirement.”

“Ok,” I said.

“You have to sing with me.”

He ignored my protests and picked up his guitar in the still lowly-lit room.  Word by word, note by note he taught me one of the songs he’d written.  I sang tentatively at first, but as I grew more comfortable with the song, we each added harmonies to the verses and the chorus.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

He smiled and said something about how he liked it even better when I was singing with him.

I looked at a clock and was shocked to realize how late it was.

“Oh, I need to go,” I said.

“Ok, but do you want to record the song with me tomorrow?”

I hesitated inside, unsure of what I wanted.  “Sure,” I said finally, smiling softly.

He walked me out to my car in the darkness and gave me a hug.

"See you tomorrow then."


Continue to Part 8.

our story [part 6]

Read Part 5 here.

Very rarely in my lifetime has Heavenly Father given me very direct answers to prayers.  In fact, even when I was trying to figure out whether or not I should marry Tim, my answer was, “You need to make that choice for yourself,” which is usually the answer I’m given.

His answer about dating again, however, was a very different situation.

I went to church on an empty stomach and a prayerful heart.  I’m not sure my prayers have ever been more sincere.  I was not just praying for me this time.  After all, my heart was not the only one on the line here.

Throughout the three hours of church, I still didn’t feel any closer to an answer.  I knew Heavenly Father was listening, but I just didn’t know what His answer was.  After church, I went to get “set apart” for a “calling” I had just been given.  [If you’re not of my faith, that basically means that you’re given some kind of an assignment in our church, and that they ordain you from God in a blessing to do the things associated with that assignment.]

No one in our bishopric knew what my situation was.  I’m not sure anyone in our congregation knew about it.  Which is why what they said in the blessing came as quite a shock.  I was told very specifically that I needed to start dating “righteous priesthood holders” and that I would be blessed for my obedience.  And as if that wasn’t shocking enough, Tim’s face flashed through my mind at that very instant.

When the blessing was done, I didn’t know what to think.  I walked out to my car and put my head against the hot steering wheel for who-knows-how-long trying to absorb what I had just been told.

Was that the answer to my prayer? I wondered.  Then, just as quickly, I knew it had been.  It was far too direct and too shocking to be anything else.

I drove home in somewhat of a daze.  Questions I didn’t know how to answer plagued my mind.

Out of habit, I checked my email soon after I got home.  There in my inbox was a message from Tim asking if I wanted to come over for a movie night at his house.  The butterflies in my stomach told me I wanted to go – to see him.

And suddenly I knew that someone was going to get hurt.  I didn’t know who.  But inevitably someone would. 


Continue on to Part 7.

our story [part 5]

Read Part 4 here.

The next night, Tim and his roommates were hosting an Open Mic Night at their house, so my roommates and I all carpooled over there together.  

I had gotten another letter today, but for some reason, instead of feeling happy about it, I just felt depressed. 

When we got to their house, it was already teeming with people, so I tried to just push aside my confusing feelings and have a good time.  I noticed immediately that Tim looked really good in an untucked white collared shirt and tattered jeans.  Where did that thought come from? I thought.  

Tim was busy recording the whole thing, so I talked to Katie for a little while.  But when Katie got up to sing, I sat by myself and sunk deeper into my inexplicable depression.  When she was done singing, she told me that Meghan and Chantal (our other roommates) had been encouraging her to date Tim.  My heart sunk even further.

Suddenly I knew where all of these confusing feelings were stemming from.

I was starting to like Tim.  And I didn’t even want to.

Immediately I realized it was futile to pretend to be bubbly and happy any longer.  I just sat on the couch and decided instead to work on pretending that I wasn’t sad.  While still untrue, it seemed far more attainable a goal.

Tim’s band got up to play towards the end of the night, and I mostly tried to avoid looking at him.  He looked too good playing his guitar and singing in his tattered blue jeans.  I briefly considered attempting to hate him, but as soon as they were done playing, he set down his guitar and made his way over to the couch where I was sitting.  He turned his undivided attention to me and started teasing me about something.  Hating Tim became the last thing on my mind as suddenly I felt happier than I had in hours.

When I got home that night, I knew that I could no longer put my inklings about dating again on the backburner.  I had to know for sure if dating again was what the God wanted me to do, so I decided to fast about it on Sunday, completely confident that Heavenly Father would let me know one way or the other.



Continue on to Part 6.

our story [part 4]

Read Part 3 here.

Intermittently, Tim would send me quirky emails that made me laugh, including one jib-jab video of the two of us dancing disco-style and one random email about how he might have to join OPA (Otter Pops Anonymous) because he’d been eating so many of them lately.  I remember the jib-jab video especially because he sent it to me on a night in which I desperately needed a good laugh.

In the middle of all of this, I would still get the occasional inkling that I should start dating again.  They were coming more often and were getting harder to ignore.  But to be quite honest, “dating again” and “Tim” had never intersected in my mind at this point.

Katie and I enjoyed doing quirky things sometimes, so we decided that one night, we’d host a “speed-walking contest” at the park across the street from our condo.  We emailed and texted a few people, and by the time everyone showed up at the park, we ended up just throwing a frisbee around instead.  Tim’s roommates were there, so I asked them where he was.  They said he had another party to go to, but that he might show up later.

Tim finally did show up, but not until about 11:30pm.  By this time, we were all headed to QT to get some drinks.  I was happy to see him, and gave him a quick hug as Katie and I jumped in the car with Tim and Jason.  When we got there, I walked over to the other group that had showed up at the park and started talking to them.  The group was mostly boys, and I joked and laughed with them for a few minutes outside of QT.  Tim mostly hung back and didn’t say much.

I didn’t know this at the time, but apparently he was thinking, Those boys can talk to her all they want now, but I’m gonna find a way to get her alone.

On the drive back from QT, Tim offhandedly mentioned that they were almost out of otter pops and asked if we wanted to go get some.  As it was almost midnight, Katie and Jason understandably opted out, but I thought, Why not?  I wasn’t sure if I should just leave Katie, but Tim was so enthusiastic about this otter pop run that I decided to go with him.

I hopped in his truck and immediately Tim started asking me questions.  What’s your favorite movie?  What are your hobbies?  You know, the typical first-date stuff.  It was honestly at this point that I thought for the first time, Is Timmy Devey interested in me?  

I wasn’t sure what to think or how to feel about this unexpected thought.  

So I did the only rational thing and tried to avoid thinking about it.


Continue on to Part 5.

our story [part 2]

Read Part 1 here.

At age 18, I moved away to college at Arizona State University.  It was only two hours away, but it was the hardest transition of my life. 

New dorm.  New friends.  New life.

 

Exciting, yes, but also positively terrifying.

Time flew by, however, and I dated quite a few boys throughout the months away from home.  I didn’t date any of them very seriously except for one, and I got him ready and sent him off on a church mission, determined that I would be there when he got back two years later.

Sometimes I think about those times now and imagine Heavenly Father giving me his knowing smile and maybe even chuckling slightly, because my life wouldn’t turn out anything like I’d planned.

And I’m glad it didn’t.

During the summer before my senior year at ASU, though still faithfully writing that missionary I’d worked so hard to get out there, I started to have small inklings that maybe I should start dating again.  I pushed these feelings aside, bound and determined that I wasn’t going to date anybody right then.

The inklings came and went throughout the summer months, but I mostly managed to squelch them in the midst of all my letter-writing and adventure-having.

On one evening in June sometime, I went to go hang out with a group of my guy friends at their house.  I was having trouble finding the place in the dark, so I called my friend Jon.  He walked out to my car to show me inside.  As we were walking up to the front door, I saw a darkened figure sitting on the bed of a truck in the driveway, talking on the phone.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“Oh that’s just Tim, our roommate.”

I dismissed him without another thought.

A few minutes later, however, this “Tim” walked through the front door, and to my utter surprise, I recognized him.

“Hey don’t I know you?” I asked in shock.

“Oh yeah, you’re Jeff Sparks’s little sister, aren’t you?”

Of course, I thought.

He spent the rest of the night in the same room with my friends and me, but he didn’t say much.  A short sentence or two, here or there.  They showed me their band’s website.  To my surprise, they were pretty good.

“Who’s singing?” I asked.

“Oh that’s Tim,” Gary said.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yep,” Tim said.  And that was it.  So he’s the silent musician type, I thought.

As soon as I left their house, however, Tim exclaimed, “Well Katie Sparks sure has grown up a lot!”  After which his roommates all tried to discourage him by telling him I was waiting for a missionary.

When I got home, I asked Tim to be my friend on Facebook, and then quickly forgot about him.  Again.


Read Part 3 here.

our story [part 1]

My life collided with Tim’s at age six.  Two years later I had a teensy crush.  Six years later we moved away and I forgot about him.  And another ten years after that, he asked me to marry him.

Would you like to hear the story?

My family moved to Yuma, AZ in the record-hot summer of 1995, and my parents vaguely wondered what they had gotten themselves into.  The natives of Southern California just weren’t used to 122 degree weather, after all.

But kids are resilient, and before long, my brothers and I adapted to the scorching heat with no noticeable problems. 

My mom, however, was determined that we would only live in Yuma for five years – just long enough for my dad to get established in his job as a professor at the local community college.  She couldn’t stand the heat for any longer than it took to walk to the car, touch the blazing steering wheel, and turn on the seemingly heaven-sent A/C.

We attended our local church’s congregation, and my older brother, Jeff, became acquainted with another eight-year-old boy named Timmy Devey.  I was vaguely aware of the boy named Timmy but my interest in Barbies and fear of the school bus largely drowned out any notice I would have taken of him.

Around age eight, however, I started to notice Timmy.  He went to a different school than I did, but I saw him at church.  I saw how he made the other kids laugh, how he seemed to be in the “cool kid” crowd, and how cute he looked in his church clothes.

Mind you, I was noticing those kinds of things about 90% of the other older boys, too.

But I always had a slight crush on the boy named Timmy.

The funny thing is, Tim tells me now that he remembers my little brother, Eric, better than he remembers me, because he was so loud and obnoxious.  In fact, he barely remembers me at all.  [Maybe I should have been more obnoxious.]

Here is a picture of Tim with his mouth stuffed full of marshmallows at my brother’s birthday party.  
And there I am two seats away from him.

Six years after moving to Yuma, my mom finally got her wish.  My dad had gotten another job in Prescott, AZ, and my brothers and I were [mostly] excited to move and start something new.

I said goodbye to all 36 of my crushes, and we packed up our things and moved in the summer of 2001.

I largely forgot about Timmy because there were just too many other cute boys to notice.

I do, however, remember thinking about him once at around age 16.  I bet if Timmy saw me now, all grown-up, he might actually notice me, I thought.

And then I quickly forgot about him again.


Continue on to Part 2.