Putting Yourself Out There

The summer of 2016 was going to be a busy one for me.  I had been home from Paraguay for nearly four months and during the interim period of waiting to get back into school had been working two jobs since January.  The months leading up to that May had allowed me to rat hole the necessary cash to live away from home for the summer.  I was excited to regain some of the independance I had felt while in Paraguay and was anxious about the possibilites to make new friends and have new experiences (I also hoped that such experiences would include some dating).  One of my part time jobs was winding down, and I had elected to take two classes at UVU in its place at the suggestion of my parents.  In early May I moved into my Provo appartment excited, and a bit nervous about my new adventure. 

Now, let me interject that my expectations for the experience of living with roommates in a college town were somewhat jaded by what I now attribute to the mainstream media.  I had seen countless television shows, movies, and books that depicted living in an appartment with roommates as an adventure filled, party going, amazing experience. It sounded easy and fun to me, and I wasn't prepared for the possible challenges that could ensue.  I had also heard a good number of older friends and adults gush about their "glory days" in college and the amazing roommates they had that had since turned into life long friends.    

This wasn't the case for me.  While I got along well with my roommates, I wouldn't call us best friends.  They all knew each other from either high school or the previous semester at college, and I oftentimes felt like an outsider.  Don't get me wrong, they did their best to include me in plans but our work and school schedules didn't exactly coincide. As a result, I ended up spending the majority of my evenings alone during those first weeks.  The experience wasn't measuring up to the rosy, fun-filled, adventure that I thought it would.  In all honesty, I found myself feeling lonely much more often than I expected.  

Because the high expectations I had going into the situation weren't being met, those first weeks were difficult.  My dad had expressed some reluctancy at my moving out, so I didn't want to admit my struggles to my parents for fear that they would judge the move as a failure.  I turned to a few of my friends instead.  Both gently suggested that I needed to do a better job of getting involved.  Whether that be at ward activities, parties at the appartment, the popular dating app "Tinder", or the LDS Institute.  When I expressed my dating woes to one--I hadn't been asked on a date since coming home, she said simply, "What are you doing to change that?"  After suggesting I go to institute she added, "Find the cute guy in class, sit next to him, and strike up a conversation.  Let him know you're interested."  With new resolve and advice from my friends, I decided to jump into the experience with the new mindset of putting myself out there.  I signed up for an institute class, attempted to go out more with my roommates, and even am somewhat ashamed to admit went on a few Tinder Dates (all of which ended up being extremely awkward, though they have made for great stories).  

It was with this new mindset that I walked into that late afternoon institute class at UVU nearly five minutes early that May.  Reflecting on the discussion that I had previously had with my friend, I scanned the room for someone to sit by.  I quickly zeroed in on an extremely good looking guy in the second row with light brown hair and an early summer tan.  I knew he was the guy this friend would want me to strike up a conversation with.  Even so, I hesitated, I NEVER sit at the front of classrooms.  I've always been a back row kind of girl--that way, I can leave class unnoticed if I get bored.  This situation wasn't any different.  In addition, putting yourself out there is hard.  I believe it requires a certain level of confidence in one's people skills, appearance, and overal personality to sit down next to a stranger and strike up a conversation. My confidence wavered in that moment, and to be brutally honest, I was worried about what rejection would feel like.  After all, what if he was saving the seat for someone else?  What if he wasn't interested?  What if he didn't like me?  And finally, what if he was already dating someone?  Each of these doubting questions rattled through my brain, and weakened my resolve.  I dipped my head, and walked to the back of the classroom.  Silently kicking myself for the missed opportunity.  

I didn't even have time to take out my scriptures when I was approached by an exuberant girl that I had seen sitting on the front row (directly in front of the brown haired guy) when I walked in.  She smiled, introduced herself and then asked my name, to which I responded. Then she queried, "Why don't you come sit up front with us?"  I exhaled in relief and accepted her invitation, deciding it was better to make friends than leave early anyways.  When we got to the front row, I immediately noticed a problem.  The row she was sitting at was now full.  She cast me a worried glance, to which I responded, "It's okay, I'll just sit here behind you guys."  I set my books on the desk and nervously sat down, right next to cute brown haired guy.  Quickly giving him another once over now that I was closer, I noticed that he had rugged tough hands, and a stitched cut on one finger which signaled to me that he was a hard worker.  I also noted that his legs were hanging out into the aisle beyond our table.  I breathed an inward sigh of relief, he was tall.  Had to be taller than me no question.  Recognizing that he was indeed someone I wanted to get to know, I gave him a nervous smile.  In the meantime, our teacher welcomed us to class, and invited us to introduce ourselves to the person next to us.  

As the class burst into chatter, I turned and smiled nervously again, "Hi, I'm Amberly Austin.  I grew up in Springville the town just south of Provo.  What's your name?"  

"I'm Nate, Nate Gricius.  I'm from Highland." he responded warmly returning the smile.  

We immediately fell into a conversation about hunting, fishing, and sports.  I did my best to show him I was interested by awkwardly grabbing his hand to examine his stitches, and chatting exuberantly about the fact that I had never been duck hunting before, but would love to give it a shot.  He took the bait, asked me out the following class period, and the rest is history.

Whenever I think about the series of events that led to us meeting.  I am floored at how orchestrated it all seems to be in retrospect.  I never would have turned to institute to meet people if it hadn't been for my experiences on my mission. And even though moving away from home was tough, I never would have taken an institute class in Orem if I was still living in Springville at the time.  My friends pushing me to put myself out there were exactly what I needed to gain the courage to sign up for class.  And perhaps most importantly, after I didn't have the courage to sit by Nate on my own, the girl who invited me to sit with her at the front of class played a huge role in our meeting.  Is it possible we still would have met had she not approached me?  Maybe.  It's equally as possible that we wouldn't have though.  Every time the anniversary of the day we met rolls around I think about her and the effect she's had on our lives.  I don't think she has a clue what she did that day in institute, but I believe that her inviting me to move was divine intervention.  I'm grateful that she followed the prompting to do so, otherwise who knows where Nate and I would be without it?  Additionally, Nate's version of the events include some experiences he had leading up to that day in institute that can't be simply a coincidence.  Moral of the story?  God has a plan.  We have to do the right things, and put ourselves in the right places, but when we do so he can work miracles in our lives.