Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Ten Year Anniversary
Ten years ago today I entered the Missionary Training Center. It was one of the most significant and long-expected days of my life, probably second only to my wedding day. Because of what happened ten years ago, throughout my mission, my life will never be the same. I'm taking some time today to pause and reflect on that.
Growing up, my mission always seemed so far off and unreal. Whenever dinner included something one of us kids didn't like, Mom and Dad would scold, "Well, you'd better eat it up, because one day on your mission, you'll be in some strange foreign conutry, and you'll have something really disgusting put in front of you, and you'll have to eat it." (Truth be told, that only happened once on my mission, and it was while I was visa-waiting in Boston, not when I was in Brazil. I can honestly say that I liked just about every single thing put on my plate during the time I was in Brazil). I always looked forward to my mission as a coming of age, as a far-off time when I would serve the Lord. When it arrived, it seemed a little unreal. Now it seems a little unreal that more than a third of my life has elapsed since I left.
Of course, a lot has happened in these last ten years. Not insignificantly, I spent the first two years teaching the Gospel in Brazil. I learned Portuguese (which I have since forgotten), strengthened my testimony, and made dear friendships. I came home to earn two bachelor's degrees at BYU, in the process completing internships in New York and Los Angeles. I worked for a year and a half in Washington, DC before moving to Boston for three years of law school. I met, befriended, dated, and married Shelly (a process that took quite a few years in and of itself). And now we're expecting a baby.
For some reason, my ten-year mission anniversary is a little more significant to me than my ten-year high school graduation anniversary, which I celebrated last summer at my reunion in Salt Lake. When I graduated from high school, I was still very young and inexperienced. Although my mission came only 14 months later, I had changed a lot in that time. I grew up quite a bit during my freshman year at BYU, learned how to live independently, made some lifelong friends, and began to learn about things like love. One of the hardest things about leaving for my mission was putting that experience on hold for two years. So when I think that it's been ten years since I left on my mission, that makes me feel much older than thinking that it's been eleven years since I graduated from high school, or five and a half years since I graduated from college.
It's probably time to get out my old mission journals and correspondence and relive these ten-year-old memories. Ten years ago today was a red-letter day, marking the beginning of the proverbial "best two years" of my life.
But long before I left on my mission, I made a goal that, yes, the mission would be the best two years of my life. Up to that point. But I also wanted to make sure that each subsequent year was better than the last. If I still think now that 1995-1997 was better than 2003-2005, I'm not progressing. And I think I've achieved that goal. The last two years, which encompass my engagement and marriage to Shelly, have been the best two years of my life. So far. I can't wait for the next two, raising my daughter. I'm certain they'll be even better.
Still, a lot of the reason each subsequent year is indeed better than the last is because of the experiences I had, beginning August 16, 1995, a sacred day to me.
Growing up, my mission always seemed so far off and unreal. Whenever dinner included something one of us kids didn't like, Mom and Dad would scold, "Well, you'd better eat it up, because one day on your mission, you'll be in some strange foreign conutry, and you'll have something really disgusting put in front of you, and you'll have to eat it." (Truth be told, that only happened once on my mission, and it was while I was visa-waiting in Boston, not when I was in Brazil. I can honestly say that I liked just about every single thing put on my plate during the time I was in Brazil). I always looked forward to my mission as a coming of age, as a far-off time when I would serve the Lord. When it arrived, it seemed a little unreal. Now it seems a little unreal that more than a third of my life has elapsed since I left.
Of course, a lot has happened in these last ten years. Not insignificantly, I spent the first two years teaching the Gospel in Brazil. I learned Portuguese (which I have since forgotten), strengthened my testimony, and made dear friendships. I came home to earn two bachelor's degrees at BYU, in the process completing internships in New York and Los Angeles. I worked for a year and a half in Washington, DC before moving to Boston for three years of law school. I met, befriended, dated, and married Shelly (a process that took quite a few years in and of itself). And now we're expecting a baby.
For some reason, my ten-year mission anniversary is a little more significant to me than my ten-year high school graduation anniversary, which I celebrated last summer at my reunion in Salt Lake. When I graduated from high school, I was still very young and inexperienced. Although my mission came only 14 months later, I had changed a lot in that time. I grew up quite a bit during my freshman year at BYU, learned how to live independently, made some lifelong friends, and began to learn about things like love. One of the hardest things about leaving for my mission was putting that experience on hold for two years. So when I think that it's been ten years since I left on my mission, that makes me feel much older than thinking that it's been eleven years since I graduated from high school, or five and a half years since I graduated from college.
It's probably time to get out my old mission journals and correspondence and relive these ten-year-old memories. Ten years ago today was a red-letter day, marking the beginning of the proverbial "best two years" of my life.
But long before I left on my mission, I made a goal that, yes, the mission would be the best two years of my life. Up to that point. But I also wanted to make sure that each subsequent year was better than the last. If I still think now that 1995-1997 was better than 2003-2005, I'm not progressing. And I think I've achieved that goal. The last two years, which encompass my engagement and marriage to Shelly, have been the best two years of my life. So far. I can't wait for the next two, raising my daughter. I'm certain they'll be even better.
Still, a lot of the reason each subsequent year is indeed better than the last is because of the experiences I had, beginning August 16, 1995, a sacred day to me.
Comments: Post a Comment
