Heartbreaking

I have shed many tears over leaving this part of the country.  So many things have happened to us here.  I feel like both Johnny and I have grown so much individually and as a couple since moving to Virginia.  This was definitely an experience we both needed, and we will miss it.

So Virginia, I have always loved your namesake, and now that I've known you, here are some things I'll miss:

The mountains.  Having been born at high elevations, I can never truly feel at home unless there are mountains surrounding me.  These have given us four beautiful, unique seasons, crazy weather, and awesome fireworks.

The stars.  One of the best things about teaching seminary was walking out to my car in the dark, looking up and seeing all the wonderful stars.  It made me think of Abraham and not being able to number the stars.  That's something you have to be in the country to understand. I also loved watching the sunrise on my drives to the church.

My neighbors. They introduced themselves to me when the moving van was outside.  They brought me gifts when they came to get the gardening tools I borrowed back.  They threw me a shower for baby number two.  They were wonderful.

Playing with the neighbor's dog.

Kindred spirits. I met three.  There are not many people my age in the county, yet I somehow found three kindred spirits among them.  I consider myself very lucky.

No traffic. Between my house and Blacksburg there were exactly two stop lights.  Yes, two.  In 20 miles.  And the only traffic happens when two people go almost exactly the same speed in both lanes, or when there was an accident, or when I tried to turn left out of the library.  And people did speed, but people also went slow.  And sometimes when the kids were asleep in the back of the car, I would go 5 under the speed limit and people would just pleasantly pass me on the left.  No drama.  It was wonderful.

Appalachian openness. I joked when I moved to Virginia that people introduce themselves by telling you their full name, address, and social security number.  Not true, of course, but people there were very open.  And it took three years, but I finally did find myself sharing my life story with strangers checking out my groceries.

The Best Preschool Ever. A class just for 3 year olds.  No more than 10 students in a class.  Two teachers.  Christian curriculum.  Show and tell every week.  $50/month.  They were wonderful.  And The Captain made huge social strides in their class.  We miss them.

My Seminary students. I found two gray hairs the other day.  A belated gift from my Seminary students, no doubt.  But surprisingly, I like them, just like my students.  I was very scared of them when I started this calling, but it didn't take long for me to love them completely.  Teaching Early Morning was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but they will always be my students, and I will always love and care about them.  They taught me a lot of things that I hope I remember when my kids are teenagers.

Feeling important. I knew right away, there was a space for us in Virginia.  We were needed in our ward, in our neighborhood, and everywhere we got involved people were grateful.  It was wonderful to feel needed.  I know I'll have to carve out my own space in Texas.

Our house. We had a beautiful house that fit our style, with lots of decorating opportunities and no major problems.  I loved that house.

Our yard. We thought we were on 1/2 acre, but it turns out it's much closer to 3/4.  There was a fenced in backyard with lots of space to run around and garden.  And we lived in Eden so even my brown thumb could not stop the veggies from growing.  And Johnny takes care of the lawn mowing, so I just got to enjoy the lawn.  Also, no one has sprinkler systems, so I had no pressure from my neighbors to have a perfectly green lawn.

 
The weather. It was hot and humid in the summer, but cooled off at night so we could open the windows.  It snowed and was cold in the winter.  We got four seasons, each beautiful.  In fact, I'm going to print up my favorite pictures of each season to hang on my wall as a reminder of what it used to be like . . .