Leaving

I'm officially moved back to Provo. And leaving home was much more difficult than I had anticipated. Really, I should have expected it. Since I came to college, anytime I have spent more than 24 hours at home, I have had a hard time leaving. 

The problem is this: my parents are just too amazing. (My whole family, too, actually.) This summer has brought that fact home to me in a stronger way than ever. 

The truth is, I'm a worrier. I didn't used to think I was, but I definitely am. I worry that every time I leave them something bad will happen. And I worry that if it does that I haven't been a good enough daughter or they don't know how much I love and appreciate them.

They truly are the best people that I know. They are loving and kind. They are willing to sacrifice, and to do so without complaint. They trust their children and allow us to make mistakes, because they know how much we can learn from them. And when we do, they are always there to help us pick up the pieces, with helping hands, open arms, and loving hearts. 

A few weeks back I had a conversation with my mom that I don't think I will ever forget. We were discussing service and sacrifice. I was complaining that sometimes it feels like those we serve are taking advantage and are ungrateful. She listened to my complaints and said simply, "Sometimes they are. But the thing is, if you say no once, then you'll never do that service again. It is too easy to think only of yourself and become selfish." Someday I hope I can be as wise as she is. And that I can, like her, instinctively know when something is wrong with someone I love and come up with the perfect fix to a bad day, like going to get pedicures or going to a movie. It's a lot easier to hide my bad days from her when I'm at school. Even so, she always seems to turn up just when I need her most.

My dad has most Fridays off of work now, so he happened to be home when I left for Provo yesterday. I had everything packed when he came home from the temple, but before I ran out the door, I asked him to give me my traditional back-to-school father's blessing. Most of the time when I am given a blessing my mom is also there and I ask her to write down some of the things said so I can reread them when I need it. I had contemplated waiting and going home this weekend for my blessing, but in the end I'm so glad I did it this way. It was a very special thing to spend those few precious minutes with only my dad and no one to interrupt the tight, long, and loving hug we shared after. I'm a hugger, just in general, but my dad gives some of the best hugs because I know he will never be the one to pull back first. More than anything, I know he just wants me to be safe and happy, and he will do anything in his power to make sure that happens, whether it be talking to me on the phone as I walk home late at night or bringing me tons of water bottles to help prevent kidney stones.

The older I get the more I understand how precious and remarkable is the love my parents have, both for their children and for each other. When I was little, I thought the idea of kids worrying their parents might get a divorce was something that only happened in the movies. All I had ever seen was the incredible love my parents had for each other. To this day, I love to see my parents flirt and tease each other. There is nothing that makes me feel more peaceful and safe than watching my parents interact with each other. They are the definitive proof that love grows stronger with time.

I'm lucky. I get to see my family quite regularly. Between their season tickets to football and basketball, family group, birthdays, and other random weekends, I never go too long without seeing at least one of my family members. And home is just a short drive away.

And as I sit here at the kitchen counter in my new apartment, I wouldn't have it any other way.