To My Dream Girl
Literary Works
We'll be in love someday, you and I. But I'm not sure I know you now.
Someday somewhere we will discover each other.
I'm fresh home from the mission field, still feeling the way only a
returned missionary can feel, still floating on memories too new to
be dim. And, Dream Girl, I'm looking for you. Two years ago I was one
of the boys, running the race of popularity--more concerned with
sharp styles and good-looking cars than anything else.
Then came the call, the farewell, the field. I was a missionary. There
was the humble realization of my greenishness and the regrets that I
hadn't spent more hours gaining an understanding of the plan of living.
I worked and studied and prayed. With new understanding of the
precepts of Christ came new determination to live them, and what had
been a vague inner assurance became a burning testimony. I began
tasting what is only a word until you taste it--joy--and exalted
happiness that dwarfed the passing pleasures I had thought so
desirable only yesterday. I began to comprehend the deeper significance
of love and marriage and the family. I began thinking serious thoughts
about the girl of the future--about you, Dream Girl--wondering, like
all who are young, where you were and how I would know you.
You, I told myself, would know what I knew. You would want to share
the joy that would come from walking through life with the Lord at
our side. You would want to go to the temple. You would want to be
queen of the greatest kingdom on earth--the home. You would want to be
a mother. I brought home with me the knowledge that the gospel is
essential to true happiness--and part of the gospel is you.
And so I'm not interested in the girl who gives her lips freely--the
girl who is immodest in dress and conduct. I'm not interested in the
girl who changes her standards to fit her company--the girl who can
see nothing wrong with an occasional cigarette or an occasional drink
or occasional immorality. My mission taught me that "just once won't
matter" can be traced to the Prince of Lies. I'm not looking for you
at shady parties because, Dream Girl, you're not there.
You will not be the kind of girl who cares nothing and knows nothing
about homemaking. Marriage wil bring us face-to-face with the down-to-
earth problems of living. There will be meals to prepare and dishes to
wash, clothes to care for, and dirt to battle. There will be budgeting
and sacrificing. There will be all the cares and responsibilities of
parenthood. Going through the temple is not a magic solution for the
problems of life. It is their beginning. And that's why we both must
spend some time preparing for the responsibilities we will carry as
husband and wife and as parents.
Neither of us will be perfect, Dream Girl, but we will love each other
for what we want to be as well as for what we are. And when we don't
see eye-to-eye, we wil kneel hand in hand and seek the inspirations of
the Father.
There will not be many tomorrows until we meet. And when we do, I will
still enjoy dating and dancing, sill laugh with you, still relish
good clean fun. But I will sense the inner part of you, too. I will
feel your faith--your love for God. I will not be concerned with your
popularity as much as with your spirituality, with your face and figure
as much as your ideas and ideals, with your ability to dance as much
as with your ability to make a home. I will see you as my future
Queen.
So there you are--in my dreams.
