Adventure of a Lifetime

Adventures—every day holds a new one. I am constantly discovering more about myself, like a new person is coming to life. Who even was that person I used to be? And even more importantly, who am I becoming? There is so much mystery in this time of my life, I have realized. But the good kind, like wondering what presents are under the Christmas tree or if the wishes you used on your birthday candles will come true.

There was an impressive amount of anxiety building inside me leading up to the big move. I was so nervous that even thinking about it would give me the jitters. My family probably thinks I was quite stoic and void of emotions leading up to the end, as I have mastered the art of hiding my emotions.

But of course, the moment I said the final goodbye and watched my parents and aunt drive away, leaving me here, in Idaho so far away from home . . . I finally broke down. Every tear I had suppressed, every cry I had held back . . . it all came out. I remember I felt so alone. So. Alone. Those words swam in my head over and over. So alone so alone so alone so alone so alone so alone. I thought to myself, what am I doing here? Is this where I’m supposed to be? Is this place worth leaving my home?

I bawled my eyes out for a long time after that. The grief felt like someone had died. And in a way, someone did. The child inside me that needed to be looked after, the child who needed a hand to hold—she was gone.

But then, just as suddenly as the grief swept over me and took me with it, it was gone. I had used it all up. And so I wiped off my smeared make-up and moved on. In an instant, I was someone new. I was ready.

These past few weeks have been wonderful, and they have also been very humbling. I am enjoying the excitement of living in a foreign place and adjusting to the new time zone and weather patterns that come with it. This might sound funny, but I’m convinced that the sky is different in Texas. Elaborate pinks and oranges and reds bleed together at both sunrise and sunset back home, whereas here the sky is rather simple, with standard shades of blue and wispy little clouds all the time.

I also miss the trees. I miss the heat. I miss my beautiful sun that always seemed so close. Just to be clear: everything I see here is seen through the eyes of a homesick Texan. And a proud one, at that. And trust me, I have made sure that my roommates are all informed on Whataburger, Blue Bell, how Fort Worth is most certainly better than Dallas, and the like. I think I even have them a little homesick for Texas.

I miss my family. I miss family outings and I miss living in my house with everyone I love within a five minute radius. 

But the air is fresh here. There are tiny mountains that swell in the distance. The grass is so green that it’s almost obnoxious (almost). Everywhere I go, I see familiar friends from the past. I see my little sister Bailey in the girl who walks past me, wearing that same purple and white shirt my sister loved so much. I see my coworkers in the faces of random passersby. I catch familiar smells on the way to places, the kind that you can’t pinpoint but for some reason it reminds you of home.

Rexburg feels more and more like home every day. One thing that coming here has taught me is this: it doesn’t matter where you are or how far from home you are, as long as you remember that the Savior is your home. Wherever you go. Everywhere. I see His House, the temple, every single day. This is an incredible privilege. To all the people who have said, “Idaho? Why Idaho?” It has nothing to do with Idaho. I despise the cold and, quite frankly, I wish I was in a tropical place right about now (*cough cough* BYU-Hawaii, when are you going to start up a nursing program so I can transfer?!). I chose to come here so I can become a nurse surrounded by like-minded people who love the Lord.

And He is with me. He is here. He knows what lies ahead of me, and even though I don’t, that’s okay. I trust Him. After all, this is the adventure of a lifetime.