How Pete and I came to Be

One or two people have asked me lately how Pete and I met--people who I thought knew "our story" and I realized that I never posted it on this blog, so it's about time I took care of that.

When/how did we meet? Well, which time? It could either be at the MTC in Preston England, in the Chicago airport on layover, or in Ms. Fishler's 7th grade heath class. (Now that we've been married for two and a half years and are expecting our first baby I find it amusing that we had our first Sex-Ed class together at the tender age of 12). The official answer to the whendidwemeet question is the Chicago Airport(that whole health class thing doesn't really count as we never actually spoke to each other--or noticed each other in any way really).

We were in a group of new missionaries headed to England for training--so I guess in the strictest sense, we met on our missions. Just not IN our missions--which is a big difference. Actually, we hardly met in the airport either, just enough to swap names and where we were from. I remember noticing him mainly because we were from the same hometown.

After we got to the MTC is a different story though. We still rarely spoke--we weren't in the same district and rarely had occasion to meet in passing, but I sure noticed him in groups. (Being cooped up with a group of 32 other missionaries all day for three weeks, it's hard not to notice everyone). But Pete stood out nearly from the beginning. for starters, he was older than the other American missionaries and definitely more mature. (He didn't get in trouble for staying up all night playing football in the halls).

And then I happened to catch a glimpse of him going off to sports time with his district WEARING A T-SHIRT! I grabbed my comp's hand and whispered "Don't look now, but Elder Tidwell looks HOT!" She laughed her head off and of course swiveled to stare. But I didn't think it was funny. From that day on I did my best to stay on the opposite end of the MTC from the happy, smiley elder who looked so good in a T-Shirt. Believe it or not, I really wanted to be a good missionary and not have a crush on one of the elders.

After our three weeks we of course went to our separate missions, Pete stayed in England and I took a short flight to Ireland. I got so busy (and so traumatized--but that's normal) that I forgot all about him. Good. That was the purpose.

Ten months went by (I was less traumatized by this point, but just as busy) when I was serving in a town called Lisburn (about 20 min outside of Belfast for those of you who don't know Northern Ireland) with a crazy companion called Sister Sinnott. She had a 'friend' she was writing to who was serving in the Leeds mission (she refused to call him her boyfriend and mocked him mercilessly even though they wrote every week without fail for two years--and ended up married a few months later). One day Sinnott was making a tape for her 'friend' when she thrust the tape recorder at me and commanded me to "say hello to Elder Peterson." I said hello, and since I couldn't think of anything else to say, added "I know someone in your mission, say Hello to Elder Tidwell."

That was it. Except it wasn't it. A few days later I got a letter in the post from said Elder Tidwell. It actually scared me to death, I thought Oh no, now he's going to think I totally fancy him and he's writing me to 'let me down gently.'

But he didn't. It was actually a very nice, cordial (if messy and nearly illegible--sorry Pete)letter. I wrote back. Then he wrote back. And I wrote back. On it went till Pete came home from his mission and asked me on our first date--about five days after he was home, and two days before his homecoming. (It wouldn't have taken him so long to ask me out, but I had accidentally sent my phone through the wash and he couldn't call me any earlier.)

Approximately forty five days later we were engaged, and we were married in the Salt Lake Temple in May of 2006. And we're happy. And Pete still looks hot in a T-shirt. (Can't say the same for myself--pregnancy is an adventure, but not an attractive one).


So that is the story of how Pete and I came to be US. If anyone actually read all that, thanks for indulging me.