Two years have come and gone, even though it feels like only yesterday that I watched my little brother walk through those MTC doors. But when I stop to think, a lot has really happened. It's like he never left, and at the same time he missed so much. It's funny how time starts to play tricks on you the older you get.
On the way to the airport, it was like an Amazon rain storm accidentally migrated to Utah, and our car was just pummeled as we navigated the point of the mountain, the belt loop, and eventually, the airport. Ty was at school, so I had three kids strapped in the back seat and my Mimi, who used to drive 18 wheelers for a living, in the passenger seat. Between her and Alli, I was getting a lot of driving advice. All I know is that I've never gone 20 miles an hour on the freeway, even in the snow, and it was white knuckle all the way. We made it, and arrived at the terminal with bells on. No, we actually did. My grandmother brought them. And balloons. And signs. We stuck out a bit.
Anyway, Ryan looked great as he came down the escalator still holding his scriptures, name tag in place. Now that's dedication. All I would want on an 18 hour flight from Australia is a sleeping pill and some atarol. Not Ryan. He rocked that trip in a full suit and my parents to boot. They picked him up two weeks before and showed him the sights that he missed while preaching and what not.
Fast forward to coming home. The special sign I had made at Kinkos for 60 bucks blew away in the freak rain storm, and was nowhere to be found. Sitting at Chili's with my family an hour later, looking out at the dry ground and beautiful blue sky above, I don't think they quite understood where that sign could have gone. I promise. It was like the... tropics... and stuff...
My next few days were spent preparing food for the Welcome Home on Sunday, which I catered for my Mom. Ryan gave a great talk, and we had fun entertaining so many old and new friends. Welcome Home Ryan! I'm so glad you're back.