I'll Go Where You Want Me To Go

Sometimes, things don't turn out quite the way you expect. In fact, sometimes they become the exact opposite of what you originally intended.

Every year, there are birds that nest right underneath the shingles of the roof of my house. Mother birds are not very motherly, I've discovered. Every year, we find several dead baby birds on the sidewalk, because their mothers have pushed them out of the nest far too early. Lucky for me, I don't have parents like this. Even when I jumped out of the nest early all by myself, and barely made it back alive, they still welcome me back with open arms until I'm ready to take off again. This time with stronger wings.

Let's recap, shall we? My college-life plan in a series:
Freshman year of high school: Dixie for two years, then BYU.
Sophomore year of high school: Dixie for two years, then BYU.
Junior year of high school: Dixie for two years, then BYU.
Beginning of senior year: Dixie for two years, then BYU.
Two months before graduation: Utah State University. Wait----WHAT?! How did that just happen?!

Freshman year of college: Hey! Logan's pretty nice! This might be cool, maybe I could stay here for four years!

Driving away from Logan at the end of freshman year: Why does it feel like I'm never coming back?

Summer between freshman and sophomore year: Well, Dixie could be okay for a semester! But then I'm going back!

Month before sophomore year: Well... I guess Dixie would be okay for a whole year... Anyway, I could save money for AFRICA!!!

Three weeks into sophomore year: Okay... the Africa group jacked up the prices... Maybe I'm not going to Africa... So, instead....

ECUADOR?!

Stay tuned, ladies and gentlemen. The Lord is teaching me another lesson in flexibility. What does this mean? This means I have no idea where I'll be in eight months, let alone 3 years! But that's okay! I've decided I kind of like it that way. (All right, I don't love it. But I just said I kinda liked it. So I'm not lying.) It definitely makes life more of an adventure, I'll be honest. Isn't adventure what I'm looking for, anyway? 

So... Whether I'm in Africa, Ecuador, or Kentucky this summer, I really will be happy with it. Because at this point? I feel like I'm pretty good at figuring out where I need to be, and where I need not be. (However temporary my confidence in that decision is.)

Author's note: Kentucky is not, nor has it ever been, on my list of possible adventures. If I have jinxed myself to Kentucky-hood with this post you are allowed to laugh at me for the rest of eternity.

Luckily, I have the most supportive parents in the whole world. Seriously. Throughout this whole process they've been there giving me quiet encouragement, drying my tears of frustration, and telling me not to turn my back on things too quickly. When I first decided to go to USU, my parents were not happy. But when they found out how excited I was, they helped me out. And when I started having a hard time? They were there for me then, too. When I, their youngest daughter, told them I wanted to go to Africa for a few months on a humanitarian trip, I could tell that they thought (and desperately hoped!) that I would give up the idea soon enough. When they figured out how much I really wanted to go, they pretended to be excited for me, while still stressing like crazy on the inside. This week, when I cried because I figured out there would be no way for me to raise all the money for the much more costly Africa trip? They told me not to give up. "Don't turn your back on it yet. And keep looking for other things. You'll find something." With parents like mine, I know I'll learn to fly someday. I'm just a slow learner.

Because.... Friends are just great.

For me, this past month has been an emotional roller-coaster. I've laughed, I've cried, laughed so hard I cried. I've felt hyper, lethargic, energetic, lazy. I've felt faithless and hopeless, ecstatic and ambitious. Like a slob, like a neat-freak. Lonely, claustrophobic. Pretty much the emotional spectrum.

A few weeks ago, I decided to go to a hockey game. Not a big deal, right? Well, the people I was with were a little different from the people I normally spend time with. Don't get me wrong, different isn't a bad thing. But sometimes, it's really not my favorite. The ladies I was with had a tendency to swear---a lot. Luckily, the two that swore the most were sitting in front of me. At least, I thought it was lucky. Sitting in front of them were two other women. These women were from the opposing team, a mother and a sister of the opposing goalie. Long story short, these women ended up being offended by the language of the women sitting behind them. Both sets of women ended up screaming at each other, some with poor language, all with poor judgement. In the end, the mother of the hockey player ended up attacking one of the girls in front of me. I don't think I have ever been in a situation that made me feel so ill. In two minutes, these women helped me to lose faith in the goodness of people, and in true kindness.

All I knew for sure is that I had to get out of there. I didn't care if I had to walk home, I just needed to leave. In my somewhat hysteric state, I texted a friend from home that also lives up here, asking if there was any way she could come and pick me up. She replied instantly, telling me that another friend from home was driving. I can't even begin to express the relief I felt. As I waited outside the ice rink, I began to feel less relieved, and more... nervous. My old friends, they've found their place up here. I didn't want to mess with that. The minutes that I was waiting for them were hardly any better than those spent in the ice rink itself... I don't think I've ever felt so unsure about asking a favor. My anxiety continued to grow in the three short minutes it took them to get there. I didn't know what to think when they came, I just knew I was a burden.

As soon as they pulled up, they rolled down the windows and called to me. The looks on their faces were not of annoyance, or condescension. The only things I saw in their faces were love and true caring. There was no "How the heck did you get into this situation?" or "Now, thanks to you, we're missing time with our new friends." as I got into the car. They could tell by my face that I was in no mood to talk about what had just happened. Sitting in the dark back seat, all the emotions I had felt within the last fifteen minutes bubbled over, and I began to cry. Quietly. I think. My concerned friends pretended to be ignorant of my emotions and just made wonderfully comfortable, clean, happy conversation. At the risk of sounding completely cheesy, the warm feeling that bubbled up inside of me was undeniable. My tears flowed in earnest at this point, more from happiness and relief than anything, though. I could see the friend driving periodically checking on me in the rear-view mirror. When we got near my street, he stole one more glance and said "I think it's time for a walk."

As I walked to the nearby elementary school with two of my best friends in the whole world, I felt a peace that I hadn't in quite a while. They single-handedly brought back my good attitude about people in general. Playing around on an elementary school playground with these wonderful people helped me in a way nothing else could.

My friends stayed with me until they knew I was feeling better. Then, they walked me home. Simple, but so important. Don't underestimate what you do.