Friday, September 18, 2015

Coming Home

Coming home was the hardest thing for me to do. It is deferent for every missionary. Some come home so excited and some not so much. I thought I would be the one who couldn't wait to see my family again. I started my mission really missing home. I missed my family, my boyfriend, even school work! But slowly I started to realize that the mission was exactly where I was supposed to be. My heart went from being in America, to slowly half in Australia and Half in America. I didnt want to give it my all because I truly did love everyone at home.. but by my 6 month mark. Home wasnt America any more. My home was my mission. I loved every second of it. My whole heart was into the work. I loved the people. They were my friends, my family, my everything. I never wanted to come home. There was nothing I would have rather been doing, no where I would rather be, than on a mission. I wanted to be the one that would rush down that escalator at the airport and hug my family with joy. But instead I was the last one down. Trying to hold back the tears. I sat upstairs for 20 minutes before I could compose myself to see my family again. I thought the mission would be the hardest thing I would ever have to do, but leaving it was truly the hardest. 

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