Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Anniversary
This past Monday, August 13, 2007, was an anniversary for me. Ten years ago I was released from my mission. (Technically, I was relieved of active duty by my mission president and then traipsed around Brazil for a week or two with my parents and then came home and was officially released by my stake president, but who's quibbling?)
It gave me pause to realize that I've actually been a returned missionary for ten whole years now. Of course, when I think back on the past ten years, I can't say they've exactly gone by quickly, or that not a whole heck of a lot happened in them. But it does make me sit up and take notice of the inexorable march of time.
For a Mormon boy, the prospect of going on a mission when you're 19 seems like forever away--something you'll do someday, but not soon. And then when it's actually upon you, your release at age 21 seems dreadfully distant as well.
Maybe there's something about knowing that "I will leave on my mission when I'm 19" or "I will spend exactly two years on my mission" -- that is, knowing when huge life events are going to happen -- that makes them seem more significant when they move into the distant past. Something you can look forward to at a specific time is different in that sense than something, like marriage, that you hope to do but don't know when you'll do it. I've been married for over three and a half years now, but I think my ten-year wedding anniversary will be different than my ten-year RM anniversary. (First of all, I won't be the only one celebrating it!) The return from one's mission is a fixed point in life and as that point recedes farther and farther into the past, it makes me feel old.
I guess that's the point of this post: I feel old.
It gave me pause to realize that I've actually been a returned missionary for ten whole years now. Of course, when I think back on the past ten years, I can't say they've exactly gone by quickly, or that not a whole heck of a lot happened in them. But it does make me sit up and take notice of the inexorable march of time.
For a Mormon boy, the prospect of going on a mission when you're 19 seems like forever away--something you'll do someday, but not soon. And then when it's actually upon you, your release at age 21 seems dreadfully distant as well.
Maybe there's something about knowing that "I will leave on my mission when I'm 19" or "I will spend exactly two years on my mission" -- that is, knowing when huge life events are going to happen -- that makes them seem more significant when they move into the distant past. Something you can look forward to at a specific time is different in that sense than something, like marriage, that you hope to do but don't know when you'll do it. I've been married for over three and a half years now, but I think my ten-year wedding anniversary will be different than my ten-year RM anniversary. (First of all, I won't be the only one celebrating it!) The return from one's mission is a fixed point in life and as that point recedes farther and farther into the past, it makes me feel old.
I guess that's the point of this post: I feel old.
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