Missing

Today I went to a missionary farewell in South Jordan. My cousin Jordan was speaking before he leaves to serve in Hawaii with his "suitcases packed full of swimsuits." He, along with the full-time missionaries in their ward, spoke on the plan of salvation and the growing need of member missionary work in the church.

As I sat there in the pew next to my parents and the rest of the Hardings, I missed three distinct things...



1 - My mission. Anytime I go to a sacrament meeting where there is a mission farewell or homecoming, I suddenly start to think about the two years that I served as a full-time missionary and what a privilege it was. When I listen to these nervous young men who are bearing their simple, sincere testimonies, I become jealous and secretly wish that I am them. Not only because they are about to go and do something amazing, but because I know how many blessings they are going to receive. I witnessed that first hand, and my parents have often said that the time that they have been the most blessed, was during the four years that Dallen and I were serving our individual missions in Mexico. Today I missed a lot of things: the humidity; the random questions about america; the garbage in the street; my hammock; the crazy lady who lived next door in Champoton who yelled at me for climbing her banana tree; six hours bus rides where napping was a rarity; zone conferences; my trainees; teaching the restoration; mangos with chili; and Hermano Ivar, Lucy and their four kids.

When Heather got home from her mission I made the joke that I was no longer going to pray for the missionaries because all of them have girls waiting for them, which in turn, worsen my chances of finding someone to date. I didn't want to bless these guys who were still in love with all the girls that I was trying to date. Selfish? A little. But after all it makes sense, considering three of the last four girls I have dated have missionaries who are currently serving, or have just returned home. No joke. I understand why these guys continue to write them. They - well at least one of them - is one-of-a-kind, and I can't blame the missionaries for not wanting them to get snatched up by other RMs. All kidding aside, I am jealous of Jordan. Some days, like today, I wish I could be in his place. Don't worry. I will pray for him. And the others too.



2 - EFY. During sacrament meeting, they sang the EFY Medley "Armies of Helaman/Sister in Zion." It not only reminded me of Bishop Tingey and the countless years that we sang as a combined young men/young women choir, but of the past two summers spent doing EFY. Because of certain circumstances like graduating, interning, and growing up, I chose not to be a counselor this summer. I didn't think I was going to miss it that much, but the closer the weeks approach, the more I realize I am going to miss EFY. Lots of my friends and maybe even some of you have said, "EFY is dumb. It's expensive, boring and full of self-righteous counselors and participants who just like to sing songs, bear their testimonies and cry at the end of the week." Lots of people think this. And sometimes EFY isn't for everyone. But it was for me. And it was designed for the 150 youth that I had the privilege of teaching, meeting, and becoming friends with. Stuff is not always as it appears, and the nine weeks that I spent as a counselor in Rexburg, Logan and Salt Lake, are some of the best memories of the past two summers. I drove home listening to last year's cd and instantly became jealous of all the people that I know who are going to be counselors; whether they are returning for another year, or just starting. I think the only thing they don't have to look forward to is the annoying EFY cheer, yelled 100000x throughout the day.



3 - My parents. After six years of not living in Pocatello, it almost seems normal to only see your parents once a month, at holidays, or during the summers. Not living at home full-time definitely makes your relationship with your parents better. Every time I see them, I feel like they bring a little bit of home to me. Today it just happened to be enchiladas. I didn't think I was going to be able to see them this weekend, but other plans fell through and I ended up staying in town. As we sat and ate an amazing Hawaiian dinner, I talked to them about a few things. To avoid getting personal, I will just say that I am grateful that they are willing to listen to me explain things - especially when I feel sorry for myself and take an hour to explain. I hope when I have kids that are struggling with similar things, I can approach the situation in the same way, and give objective, heart felt advice. My parents are just good at life. There is no other way to describe them. Sometimes I just wish they could stay longer than a day.

There are a lot of things I miss right now and these are just some of them.

Happy Sabbath.