Growing Up

College is an awkward stage of life. It's that place where you learn who you are separate from your family, as well as just how well you've really absorbed all that they have tried to teach you.

I have friends who leave home and try to get as far away as they possibly can. They crave something new and different. Deep down, we all know they just don't want to be told what to do anymore... or they don't want to face some of their friends or the decisions they've made any longer. It's really a rather simple desire. But once you're gone, it's odd... you begin to miss all that you tried to run from.

I don't think I ever really tried to run. Really, my parents almost pushed me out the door.


But then, just the other day, my dad called me. the moment I picked up, his first words were that he missed my voice. As I'm writing this, I feel tempted to cry - though that might partially be due to sleep deprivation. But REALLY. I missed his voice too.

Being so far from home, I tend to feel the difference most when I experience things that are a stark contrast to what is familiar to me.

Sitting in chapel, or at church, I find myself comparing each and every speaker to my dad and the way he teaches. Naturally, no one quite measures up. At least I can say I love listening to my dad's sermons!

"Whistle While You Work"

The funniest thing that I miss is Saturday chores. Who thought I would miss that? My family has chore sharing down pat! Every Saturday, we do a full cleaning of the house. Living on my own now, well, not really, I have roommates, but away from them, nevertheless, I wish I had the authority to help my roommates follow suit. It made things so easy. And I miss getting things done as a team, rather than alone. I'm sure you've heard me compare myself to Cinderella. Though my roommate tells me I'm much more akin to Snow White. I suppose she isn't too far off. I do like to sing. And quite honestly, I don't mind the work so much as it may sound. One of the things I really carried with me was the NEED to keep things clean. Not necessarily "pristine," but "clean." I'm more of a sanitary than an organized sort of cleaner.

But back to the real point... leaving home... you begin to miss the familiar. That's what most eighteen year olds don't expect when they fly the coop.

That desire makes me thankful. It means that my parents did something right. I know that I can dream of starting my own family with a good foundation, but I can know that until such a day, my home is a safe and wonderful place... beautiful and full of sentiment.

I'm  fairly certain my dad will read this eventually... I do love your voice, too. And I miss your sermons!