“A Handmaiden of the Lord” or “Debbie, Show Him Your Teeth!” (depending on whether you’re in a spiritual or humorous mood)

Written 10 September 1978 (nearly a year after the beginning of these amazing events)

It was early October in 1977. I had been home from the mission field for a few weeks, and was planning to go to California with the family in early November to baptize nephew Eric, since Ed his father was not yet a member. After that, I would perhaps get a job for a month or so, and return to BYU in January 1978. Mom had just hung up the phone, after telling my sister Michelle that we would be able to have a leisurely visit with them when we came.

Suddenly, it hit me that I had not even counseled with the Lord about my decision to wait until January for school. I prayed alone in my bedroom for His acceptance or rejection of my choice. Was I ever surprised to feel the “stupor of thought” as His reply! I was stumped for a moment, and then the counsel from my mission president Kenneth Myers came into my mind:  it is good for a returned missionary (RM) to get back into school as soon as possible, so he doesn’t lose ambition.

I had learned that BYU had an accelerated block program that started mid-semester in October (attend class twice as much for the same credits), so I asked the Lord if this is what He wanted. This time, I felt the strong, happy witness of the Spirit in the affirmative.

Mom was a little perturbed at me when I said we would have to call Michelle and Ed right back and tell them we (I) could only spend a quick weekend with them when we came in November, instead of a long visit, since I would be in school. But she did call, and I began preparing to do the Lord’s will and jump right back into school.

I made several trips from Tooele to Provo and back, registering for school, finding an apartment at Robert E. Lee Apartments (corner of 9^th East and 9^th North), moving in, etc. Classes began Monday, Oct. 24^th, and naturally my head was spinning in the rush-rush of school. Feeling lost with regards to the Honors Program and my status in it, I found myself going into their office repeatedly that week—or maybe it was the magnetic personality of one little secretary at the front desk that kept drawing me back?

To be sure, since I had been home from Germany, I had wasted no time in pursuing an active social life. I went on five or six dates with as many different girls in that first week at school. Heck, I figured that I didn’t want to be one of these 27-year-old RM’s that still hadn’t found “THE ONE,” and that the Lord expected me to now be looking for the eternal companion and making it a matter of prayer, as a blessing 10 years earlier had strongly suggested. However, I was also no salivating wolf that couldn’t wait to get his hands on her. I simply felt that if I did my part in asking ladies out, the Lord would open up the way.

Meanwhile, back in the Honors Program office, I couldn’t help noticing the warm, caring attitude that little secretary had when she helped me iron out my schedule and find answers to questions. She was very different from other cold, mechanical secretaries I had encountered. I made a mental note that her nameplate stated “Debbie _________” something or other. But alas, I naturally assumed that she was an intellectual egghead in the Honors Program, and since I never associated with that type (even though I was one), I thought that there was little chance that I would be taking her out. That was a shame.

I think it was Tuesday that I really noticed her, and on Thursday I was in a bind—I had two tickets to the BYU Homecoming football game from my Intercollegiate Knights service fraternity, and no date! I went into the Honors office that morning—just to look at some past University Scholar Projects (USP’s) because I was interested in doing one—honest! —and was grabbed by the arm by Dr. Phillip Flammer, who was in the Honors Program directorate.

He was holding Debbie by the arm with his other hand, and he asked me, “Are you married?” I quickly replied, “Not yet.” He turned to Debbie and commanded, “Show him your teeth, dear!” and proceeded to tell me all of the good points that this little secretary had. I played along with the gag, asking, “Can she cook, sir?”, etc., and it gradually petered out. (Dr. Flammer had been trying to give her away to Norm Christensen before me, who was on the same second floor of S-Hall in Deseret Towers with me two years ago in 1975. Dr. Flammer had told Debbie that Norm had two choice tickets to the football game, which he didn’t at all!)

I proceeded to look at the USP’s, but couldn’t help overhearing Debbie tell Norm how badly she wanted to go to the football game—she’s a big fan of the game. I began to think, “Well, here I am with two tickets, no date, and a cute, warm-hearted girl that wants to see the game. Even if she IS probably an Honors egghead, maybe it wouldn’t hurt if we sat by each other just this once.” So, I turned and said, “I have an extra ticket if you don’t mind sitting by me.” She accepted the invitation like a real cool head, like it was nothing super-extraordinary. I got her full name, Debbie Jeppsen, and address so I could pick her up on Saturday.

At about noon Saturday, I pulled into the driveway or her red brick duplex in my Opel GT, “Toad” (so named because of the hideaway-headlights that looked like a toad’s eyes when flipped open). She was wearing a cut red-and-white checkered shirt with a red choker and red earrings, and jeans—I thought she was the cutest little knock-out. At the game, I had never felt more at ease with a girl than I did then. As we sold programs for my fraternity, we laughed and giggled just like we were old friends.

At halftime, the band began to play “MacArthur Park,” and she got so excited about it that she couldn’t help singing along. WOW, what a brilliant soprano voice! ! I mean HIGH and POWERFUL! I finally got it out of her that had just been in BYU’s “Young Ambassadors,” their most famous touring group that goes all over the world; she had been through the western and southern U.S. (In fact, they came to my mission in Munich, Germany and performed just before I came home—good thing she had quit before then, or I would not have been able to concentrate on my mission!)

After the game, as we were walking back to the car through the crowd, she took my arm—and pound-pound went my heart. When we went through the narrow gate, I was afraid she would let go, so I pressed my arm in against my body to wedge her arm in! (I never did know how to play hard-to-get.) On the way home, I told her how fun she was to be with. I also asked her where she thought I ought to put the German bumper sticker that I had brought home with me. (She later asked me how many other girls I had asked that question, since the sticker was hanging out of the glove box. I said about two.)

When we got to her place, I wanted her to play the Young Ambassadors record she had modestly said she owned, so she invited me in. She offered me a chair, to which I said thanks, and then promptly sat down on the floor. MAN, she had the whole solo of “MacArthur Park” to herself on the record. I was overwhelmed at how high and fantastically she could sing. After more cutting up and tossing pillows at each other a bit, I had to go home—to get ready for another date, I think.

I think the next time I saw her was the next Wednesday in the library. I was really planning to take her out again, she was so warm and bubbly and fun. I was coming out of the men’s restroom on the 4^th floor of the library…

[now fast forward to 31 Jan 2020]

…and that was the end of my version of the story, unfortunately. I never finished writing it on 10 Sep 1978, almost a year after we met. I wrote it on a few of those huge “Book of Remembrance” pages titled “Personal History.” I checked my journal for the continuation, but it skips from 22 Oct 1977 (three days before I met Debbie) to 12 Feb 1978, just a few weeks before our wedding!

Here is the 12 Feb 78 entry:  SO MUCH!! Has happened in between the last entry and this—and I’ve used the fast pace of all of it as a rationalization for not “having” time to write here. School, Elder’s Quorum callings (first as secretary, then president) and the BIG CLINCHER-my Father in Heaven saw fit to bring unto me a handmaiden of the Lord—indeed, THE very woman who was prepared from before the foundations of the world to accompany me through eternity if I proved worthy. I’m still having plenty of trouble understanding why He blesses and loves me so, and whether I’ll ever get my feet back to earth after discovering where my future wife had been waiting.

And here’s a tidbit from 8 July 1978 (after our wedding):  …now I realize more the greatness of our God! If I had not returned to the Y in October, Debbie may have been long gone, since she graduated in December. And what’s more, her dad prophesied in one of her father’s blessing that she would definitely meet her husband that very semester. This experience has greatly strengthened my testimony of the power of prayer.

Please refer to Debbie’s version on www.granniedebbie.com for the rest of the story up until the engagement. We have entire scrapbooks and journal entries dedicated to the next 20 years. We were married in the Salt Lake Temple on 8 March 1978, just about four months after we met.

Another part of the miracle is that I had been given a blessing 10 years earlier that said, in choosing a companion, make it a matter of prayer, and a handmaiden of the Lord (thus the title of this story) would be brought to me. I did pray, the Lord told me to return to school immediately, and the handmaiden of the Lord was literally brought to me by Dr. Phillip Flammer, our angel and foreordained matchmaker. I look forward to giving him a big hug on the other side and thanking him.

Here’s one of our favorite J. Golden Kimball stories that relates to my very gifted singer of a wife. In his high-pitched voice, he tells: “I met a man that married a woman because she could cook. I met another man that married a woman because she could sew. And I met a man that married a woman because she could sing. After the wedding night, he woke up, saw her teeth in a glass, her hair on the dresser, and bits of her strewn around the room here and there, and he sits up and yells, “Sing, for hell’s sake, sing!”

Debbie is truly the light of my life, my sweetheart and best friend. We have now been married nearly 42 years, and we still go on a one-on-one date every week.  I only hope that I will be worthy to be by her side for all eternity.