You're going to be okay, Elder.

Spent the evening with a group of amazing youth.
All I can say is the world is in very good hands.

Old enough to be their mother aside (seriously, people. I am old enough to be their mother! How did that happen?), it was good for my little spirit to just escape my world and spend some time in theirs.

Do you remember that world?
I can't say I'd ever want to go back but maybe I would if I could go back knowing then what I know now.

Speaking of a world I don't want to go back to...

After we bowled a couple of games, we sat down with some pizza and just talked. I was talking to a couple of the youth about my mission when a family walked by.
Dad
Mom
Son & wife
Grandma
Grandpa
and the Elder in the suit.

He had literally just landed and they were grabbing some dinner before the meeting where the wide-eyed 21 year old would get released as a missionary.

And the next 3 minutes went something like this:
Me: Where did you serve, Elder?
Elder: Independence, Missouri
Me: Shut up! I'm from Missouri! Oh, you're not released. I shouldn't have said "shut up". I'm sorry.
Me: Did you ever serve north?
Elder: My first area was in Gallatin.
Me: Did you know the Youd family?
Elder (with family already sitting at their table): YES I did. I knew them.
(Elder so happy to talk to someone who knows his world, pulls up a chair)
Me: Did you love your mission?
Elder: Yes. So much.
(we talked for a few minutes about Gallatin and figured out I was there on a work assignment about the same time he served there)
Me: So you really just got home?
Elder: Yes.
Me: And it feels weird, huh?
Elder: (looking around) yeah.
Me: You're going to be okay. It will be weird for a little while and you'll miss it so much but you're going to be okay.
Elder: (silence but his eyes are getting all watery and suddenly I felt so impressed to say something)
Me: Let me tell you what's going to happen tonight, Elder. You're going to be released. There will be no big ceremony. You're just going to be released. But you are going to physically feel the mantle of your stewardship as a missionary leave. You're going to feel it. And it's going to take your breath away. And you're going to want to cry. And it's okay. We all felt it. It's okay.
Elder: (fighting off these tears, bless his heart) Okay.
Me: Really, you did what the Lord asked you to do and now that part is done. But there's a whole life waiting for you. He has things waiting for you.
Elder: (silence...he's looking at me with that "How did I get here? I don't want to be here" look.)
Me: I promise you're going to be okay (I said as I put my hand on his knee. Then quickly took it off when I remembered he wasn't released yet...grin).
Elder: (still fighting back tears)Okay. Okay. Thank you.

He got up and joined his family.

And I just watched him...
remembering...
that feeling of...
finally being with your family but feeling alone
wondering what on earth you're going to do with the rest of your life
hoping the Lord will still use you like He used you for the past 18 months (2 years)
praying that you'll read your scriptures everyday just like you promised you would.

Some people say about their mission:
"It was the best 2 years (or 18 months) of my life."

But I've NEVER said that.
I don't feel that way...

It was great.
Don't get me wrong.
And I'm so glad I had that experience.

But my mission was NOT the best 18 months of my life...
it was probably the best 18 months FOR my life...
but not of.

Because life got even better.
Did it ever!

And though nothing about my life is what I thought it would be that night I got home (and wow...do I ever remember that absolute physical change when I was invited to remove my nametag and I realized my mission was over. Over.)...
I was right in what I said tonight.
It really was okay.
There was a whole life waiting for me.
He had things waiting for me.
Better things.
Much. Better. Things.

You're going to be okay, Elder.
Life gets even better.
I promise.