The summer of 1993 was at once the funnest and the most frustrating summer I'd ever lived through. Every Friday I enjoyed visiting with Moe, but he never once mentioned going out on a date. Mom and Dad were in Germany on their mission, but I took advantage of their absence by spending every possible moment up at the cabin with the kids. (If dad had been home he would have insisted we wait to go until he could go, and I would have felt guilty for taking up his time.)
Sometimes we went by ourselves, often we took cousins or friends with us, sometimes their families came too. I would drive up on Monday mornings and come home Thursday or Friday, always in time to work at the Temple on Friday nights.
Linnea and I fixed up the cabin that summer. She made a Personal Progress goal out of cleaning and redecorating the kitchen and the bathroom, and designing a rock garden out back. Linnea painted the bathroom, stuck down vinyl tiles on the floor, and covered the old shower walls with new contact paper. Then we painted the kitchen and I painted strawberry's on the kitchen cupboards, while Linnea worked outside. It was so much fun!
All the while I worked, I wondered about Moe and if he was interested in me. I read the scriptures, studied and prayed, always with the plea that the Lord would help me find the husband he had prepared for me. Over and over I assured him that I wanted His will to be done and would accept whatever blessings he saw fit to bestow on me, and I begged him to help me know His will and recognize my blessings. Most of all I wanted to know, was Moe the one?
Often when my sisters and I got together they would talk about Moe with me. Each of them had by this time seen him one way or the other. Sharon was the first to hear about him, her hairdresser had told her all about Moe, so she recognized him when she and her husband came to do a session. Linda knew Moe vaguely from the time they had lived in the same ward, and she had pumped her friends for all the gossip they knew about him. Even Julie had sort of met Moe.
One Saturday morning she called me to tell me about what had happened to her in the Temple the night before.
“I went to go through a session,” Julie told me over the telephone. “I was sitting on the front row, waiting for the session to begin, and I noticed the brother standing in front of us, ready to officiate the session. He had the nicest smile. Well, anyway, everyone was there and it was time for the session to begin, but something must have gone wrong because the session didn't start. Everyone just sat there, waiting, and pretty soon we were all wondering what was wrong, but the officiator just stood there calmly, smiling and waiting for someone to fix the problem. I felt really sorry for him, obviously he didn't know what was wrong, but he didn't get flustered or upset, he just stood there and smiled and waited, and after awhile someone was able to fix the problem and the session started. I didn't realize it at the time, but later I got to thinking about how you described your Moe. I bet he was the officiator.”
The next time I talked to Moe I asked him if it was him.
“Yes,” he told me somewhat embarrassed. “It was the first time I ever officiated, and something went wrong with the audio-visual equipment. I didn't know what to do, so I just stood there and waited for the engineer to fix it, and eventually he did.”
“Well, you made quite an impression on my little sister,” I told him thoughtfully. “Your calmness and smile saved the day.”
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