This one's for you two.

When my parents first told us that they had decided to serve a mission, I have to admit I wasn't that surprised. I was surprised they had decided to do it so young, but they've been wanting to serve a mission ever since I can remember.

I'm not sure if you know my parents story or not, but they first met while my dad was serving an LDS mission in her small town. He and his companion used to eat at my grandparents house once a week. I once took a peek at his mission journal (sorry Dad!) and read about how he thought my mom was beautiful but he needed to focus on his mission. I loved reading that. I like knowing that that's what started it all.

Growing up my parents always talked about how that was the biggest goal for them. They wanted to retire and serve missions. Even though they started before retirement this go around, I have no doubt that this will not be the one and only mission. I know there are many more to come.

Having your parents basically the farthest away a person can get is a strange feeling. I went from talking to my parents a few times a week and seeing them a few times a week, to checking my email daily to see if I got an email, and getting excited when I see the random number starting with 0 on the caller ID. Our family has never had a missionary before and it makes me proud that my parents are the first ones.

In an email the other day my mom said that they've been so busy they haven't had the pangs of homesickness yet. That makes me happy. That means my prayers are being answered. I want them to dive into the work and enjoy every second they can get of it. I've had them for 25 years, I can give a few to the Lord. But as the people who are left behind, I feel the pangs of missing them almost daily. I miss my Dad's hugs. I miss my mom's foot rubs. Did you know she gives the best ones? As a dancer growing up they were awesome.



I still think about saying goodbye at the airport and how I had written them each a letter to tell them how much I loved them because I knew that I couldn't say it out loud without making a fool of myself blubbering in front of all those people. They had just walked away and were getting their tickets checked and I was crying and had forgotten about the letters. I suddenly remembered and ran to the pole holding the rope separating me from them. I yelled to my mom and she came over and grabbed them and I gave her one last hug and kiss as we both had tears in our eyes. I remember her excited eyes. I knew she would love it out there. And she does.



Celebrating Mother's day without your mother here was hard for me. I know Father's day will be equally as challenging for me, if not more. I'm a daddy's girl...my mom knows it. So as we are here in Utah, those two are fulfilling their biggest dream. I couldn't be more proud. I'm proud to be their daughter. Even if I'm the middle one and am often forgotten.

Kidding Mom.