Stamps

12 months ago I was lost, afraid, and oh, so lonely. The one person who I had thought would always be there, had been gone for 6months. I mean, he had been there for the last 4 years, so you would think that 900miles wouldn't make a difference, right? Honestly, I pushed him away. I pushed him, and everyone else that TRULY mattered, away.

11 months ago, I started to get my life back. AND IT WAS BEAUTIFUL. I was happier than I'd ever been in months, but there was a pin-prick of a hole still empty in my heart.

7 months ago, as I witnessed one of my dearest friends get married to her highschool sweetheart, I saw it, what was missing. HIM. I was reunited with someone I met the last semester of my last year of highschool. Someone I didn't even know, not really. Two weeks after I kissed him on the cheek, two weeks of NO contact, he reached out. Said he was going out with friends to the dollar theater, and would I like to come along? OF COURSE I wanted to go. I knew he could be the answer to my feelings of being incomplete. But, I held back. Stayed reserved, wary, cautious, whatever. I couldn't fall. Not again, not after the year of hell. (sorry, mom). So I asked him what his plans were. But really, I was asking if he was worthy. Worthy of being let into my life. Worthy of my heart that still had pieces on the floor.
He immediately told me how his mission papers were in. And OH! How my heart soared! It was exactly what I was waiting for. He. Was. Committed. He was committed to our Lord. He was committed to serve the people of wherever he was going to go. HE WANTED TO GO. He was dying to go, and I knew that nothing, not even a girlfriend, would hold him back. And so, I let myself fall. And boy did I fall.

6 months ago, he was mine, and I was his. We had each other for a month, that was it. But to me it felt like years. I was ME again. I was the one who was committed. I was the one pushing him out the door to go serve the people of California. I was the one who wouldn't let anything hold him back.

Now, I have the beautiful opportunity to say that he is the Lord's. And I've gotten to peek into his life these past five months through his letters. I don't get cool stamps, from across the pond. I don't get crazy stories about weird animals he's encountered. The weirdest thing he's eaten is the food from the MTC. But I get letters from this wonderful and dear friend of mine. He shares scriptures with me, and the frustrations he's felt. He lets me be a part of this journey. I get to be there with him, even if his stories take place only a hop, skip, and a drive across the state line. I get stamps. And to me, that will always be enough.