FRIDAY, JUNE 22, 2007
It is odd to think, but I have been home from my mission for two
whole years as of today. I can remember coming down the escalators
in the Salt Lake International Airport with the rest of the
missionaries from my group. We glided down into a large and spacious
room completely full of people, I recall getting a quick glance from
the top of my parents standing near one of the walls.
It was weird to see them again, it was even more odd to see my little
brother who seemed to have grown a foot while I was gone (I'm still
quite a bit taller than him though), and still more odd to see two of
my younger sisters had gone from children to young women with
curves! We left the airport and drove through the brown space of
Utah to my brother’s new house near Ogden.
I was so surprised and dismayed at Utah's scenery. I remembered
really liking Utah before I left, even with being in love with the
beauty of the mountains. But as I rode in my parent's van, all I saw
was an empty, big, brown, wasteland. Even the mountains looked
dead. They looked lifeless and naked, holding barely any trees.
My brother's new house was really nice, although it was unlike most
houses that I had seen or had been in in the last two years. Home
was different though. It was similar to how I had remembered it, but
it wasn't the same. It didn't really seem like I was coming home,
life as a missionary in Great Britain felt more like home that
anything in America ever did. But, when you are doing your Heavenly
Father's work, you are home.
I didn't particularly enjoy most of my first year back. I felt like
I came back to someone else's life. I wasn't the me I was before my
mission, and I couldn't be Elder Hull anymore either. I think some
of the problem lied in the fact that rather than trying to progress
as fast as I could, I didn't want to let go of the wonderful things
of being a full time missionary. So, rather than creating new
memories right away, I dwelt in the wonderful experiences of the
former two years, but you cannot live on memories alone. Life is to
live, it is for living.
I started school about six months after I came home. It was
something that I had definitely needed. It filled an empty gap that
I had inside of me. After about half a month or so of school, I
found an opening in an apartment, moved out of my parent's house and
bought a cell phone. I was blessed with some good
roommates. Last summer was a really good time as well, we had a lot
of fun. I think I was more myself and happy with my situation than I
had been in a long while.
This last school year went by fairly well as well. It did have some
hiccups though. I think it was September nineteenth of two thousand
and six, a roommate of mine, a neighbor, and two neighbor girls
(funny side-note, each couple, although they might not have been a
couple yet on that night, are now married), were watching a movie in
our front room. I was toying with my computer at the time and went to
bed about halfway through the movie.
But the guys upstairs were being really noisy. It sounded like they
were moving furniture or something. I tried to ignore it for a long
while, but to no avail. So I walked upstairs and tried to politely
ask them to be quiet. After this, I walked down the stairs, but I
missed the last three or four steps. I fell with a loud slap, and
crumpled to the ground. I had injured my right foot or ankle. I
tried to stand on it, but found that it didn't support weight very
well. I crawled from the landing, down the next three steps onto the
other landing, and crawled through the door.
The movie had just finished, and they were sitting in polite
conversation, I plopped to the ground and announced that I thought I
hurt myself. They were very kind and rushed me to the emergency
room. A long while later they took me home with my foot wrapped up
and a set of brand new crutches. Apparently I didn't break anything,
at least no bones, but it was a bad sprain. I did try walking on it
after a little while, but I discontinued the attempts after my foot
swelled up really big and angry looking every time I tried.
This became a low spot for me. There was constant pain, and a
feeling of helplessness. I was surprised at how people treated me.
Some were way nice, some were fairly indifferent, and to my dismay,
some did not treat me well at all. I missed about two weeks of class
because I physically could not make it. My grades dropped because of
my lack of attendance and my rising levels of frustration. But I
made it through it alright.
This experience helped me to decide to step up my independence a
little. The day before Thanksgiving I bought a ninety-three Honda
Civic sedan. It has been a good car for the most part. It has
helped me with confidence as well. I have periodically went on big
group dates or double dates that my roommates have helped set up.
And having a car has made me more keen on participating in dating.
When I came home I didn't want to have anything to do with a
relationship, and I was a bit afraid of girls. This fear, as well as
some of my reluctance to have anything to do with a relationship has
gradually worn off. I don't think it would be too bad now, and might
even be open to it.
During this last semester I decided that I needed a break from Cache
Valley, so my sister, a friend, and I were planning to work away this
summer. But my friend saw one and decided that he would go for it,
and then almost no one responded to my applications. So when school
ended, my frustration reached new heights, and my life was not to my
liking. But some friends and I went to Jackson Hole to drop off
another friend, I ran into someone I new and was basically offered a
job. So less than a week later, I moved up to West Yellowstone,
Montana, and have been here for over a month. My younger sister
decided not to come with me though, so I am up here without anyone
from my life before.
The job is pretty fun, although it is making me work more Sundays
than I had bargained for, which means I'm not sure if I'll last the
whole summer up here. I might try switching jobs, or something if
things don't change.
Church is pretty good up here. I have been called into the singles
program up here, and the president leaves in less than a month, which
basically leaves me in charge over the young adults, the evening
sacrament meeting, and the activities including Family Home Evening.
So I do have a full load on my plate.
I love the gospel, and although I pay closer attention to it some
times and less at other times, I know it is true and it has truly
blessed my life. I look back on everything I have experienced, both
good and bad, I realize that everything good in my life is connected
to the gospel. If I hadn't have had it, I do not know where I would be.
I hope I haven't sounded too negative in this entry. I don't
usually ponder on my mission like I once did, but as I noticed the
date approaching, I have been thinking a lot on my life, and this
letter is probably more for me than it is for any of you. I think
that I once pondered my mission too much after I got home, and I now
think the opposite is true as of lately, that is that I don't ponder
it enough. It is often hard to get a happy medium.
