By Molly Monroe
On a warm-ish April day, I sat at my favorite table beneath a cherry blossom tree, tucked away from the cluster of tables outside the Student Union Building, writing my next article for the Student Life Blog about getting involved on campus: the connections it creates, the belonging it brings, and the fun it fosters. Little did I know that the man who would one day be my husband in the not-too-distant future was about to walk up and introduce himself.
I closed my laptop just as I made eye contact with a man who looked vaguely familiar. He waved. I waved back. I slipped my laptop into my bag and looked away, trying to remember if I knew him from a class or a club.
“Hi,” he said as he walked toward me. “I’ve seen you around and have been meaning to introduce myself. My name is Conner.”
He shook my hand, and instantly I felt like we were going to be friends.
“Nice to meet you, Conner. I’m Molly.”
I asked the typical college student small talk questions: What year are you? What’s your major? Are you involved in any clubs?
I learned we were both involved in the campus ministry Cru. I still couldn’t remember seeing him at any Wednesday night gatherings over the past two years. He must have always been there, and I hadn’t noticed him because it wasn’t time for us to meet.
Conner seemed genuine and confident, but in a humble way, for introducing himself to a somewhat stranger. I later found out that he thought I was a pretty stranger and had been observing how I interacted with people on and off campus before working up the courage to say “Hi”.
The following week, I was back at the same table working on blog posts when I saw Conner walking toward me again. This time, he sat down, and the conversation went deeper than majors and extracurriculars.
He shared that he was a nontraditional student who transferred to Boise State from Northern Arizona University after taking a few gap years to save for tuition. He talked about the ups and downs of his journey to Boise and how his faith grew during college. Then he asked what my story was.
I shared what felt appropriate in the moment, and after listening intently, he smiled and asked, “That’s it?”
I remember thinking, ‘Well, for a guy I just met… yes’. But Conner wasn’t as interested in surface-level answers as he was with my motivations, my dreams, and my heart. As I opened up about my own faith journey intertwined with how I ended up at Boise State, he asked, “Can I pray for you?”
Stunned, I said yes.
Two almost-strangers sat beneath a cherry blossom tree on Boise State’s campus and prayed for one another out of pure sincerity.
After Conner walked away to his class (which he ended up being late for), I looked up through the branches above me and whispered, “God, what is this?”
Then I started seeing him everywhere. Near the SUB on Tuesdays. At Cru on Wednesdays. At the free lunches at the Biblical Studies Center on Thursdays. Without even looking for him, there he was. It made me wonder how many students are in the same circles or communities, but have never truly met one another.
Our first date was by the Boise River, just a jog away from campus, on the last day of the semester. He took a film photo of me sitting by the water, which is framed on his nightstand today. I only gave him 30 minutes of my time before my shift at Student Communications and Marketing, but it felt like five. He walked me to work, hugged me goodbye, and I floated to my desk trying not to smile too big.
Through school, long-distance, academic stress, new jobs, moves, and mental health challenges, our relationship persevered.
While we were dating, I asked Conner why he walked up to me that day on the SUB patio.
“The first time I saw you,” he said, “I felt like I had to know you. Not necessarily to date you, but to truly know you as a person.”
A year and a half after meeting under that cherry blossom tree, we got married in my hometown, surrounded by family and friends…some of whom I met at Boise State.
By getting involved on campus, through Cru and Student Communications and Marketing, I didn’t just find community and belonging. I found my people.
And I found my person.
