My most favorite person is actually a group of people. My family. This pic obviously doesn't have my mom and dad, but I think you can get a pretty good vibe of what our family is like from this shot. It was taken August 2012 after our grandpa's funeral. Truly, they are my favorite people. They are the source of some of my greatest joys and my biggest heartaches. Their highs are my highs, their sadnesses, my sadnesses. We have a tendency to go and take charge to get things done and we freely share our opinions with others, even if it's not exactly asked for.
The longest I've ever spent away from my family was the time I spent as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I remember my family being there (most of them anyways) when I opened my mission call. I remember them having to hurry back to Idaho the day they dropped me off at the MTC- I think 3 of my sisters had dates that night (they were slightly delayed by a tornado that struck Salt Lake). I remember the pillow case they brought me, among other things, to the airport as I was leaving for Croatia- it had cute messages from each of them- I wish I had saved it instead of actually using it. I remember the letters they wrote, hearing their voices 8,000 miles away at Christmas. I remember the love and nonjudgment in their eyes when I needed to come home for a short bit to get my feet back under me. I remember their excitement when I decied to return to the field.
I remember the nervous excitement we felt when I found out I'd be serving in the same mission as a family member who'd been cut off from the family years before. I remember their support as I took little steps to help repair the relationship.
I remember their smiling faces standing at the end of the runway when I completed my mission. I remember the hugs and smiles and laughter. Mostly, during all the time apart, I remember the love.
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