A Love Story Part VI: Home Again, Home Again

How do you succinctly summarize an entire mission's worth of experiences and letters back and forth from you to a loved one?  You don't, apparently.  I just skipped the whole mission experience for the sake of time and space in this story. If you haven't read this before, you'll want to start at Part I. 

I leaned over and looked out the plane window, then sighed.  Eighteen months had passed more quickly than I had ever thought possible. Here I was on my way home, back to everyone waiting for me there.  This last leg of my trip was quiet—there were only two other people on the small connecting flight from LAX to Sky Harbor Airport, and since one of them was sitting way up in the front and the other one was a nun who obviously had no interest in talking to me about my church, I took the opportunity to try to gather my nerves.

I was excited to see everyone, no doubt about it—and terrified at the thought of seeing Steve.

Steve.  A picture of him flashed through my mind, and, like the obedient missionary I still was, I pushed it away, thinking back instead to my last interview with my mission president.

 This picture was taken the day I left Taiwan to come home--I'm the redhead in the back, in case you couldn't recognize me...

“So, when you get home, we do encourage you to start dating if it’s an option,” President Hoer’s lip was twitching, betraying the fact that he was trying not to laugh as he saw the discomfort this topic was obviously giving me.

“Actually, I kind of have someone waiting for me back home…” I faltered and shifted in my seat uncomfortably.  This was an awkward conversation for a missionary to have with her mission president, to say the least.

“Really?” His eyebrow lifted, his interest obvious.  “This is the first I’d heard about this.”

“Well, I didn’t want to talk about it much.  I just wanted to focus on the work, you know?” I could feel my cheeks turning red.

“So, is this young man a returned missionary?”

“Yes, he is.”

“And is he going to be at the airport when you arrive home tomorrow morning?”

“I believe so.”

“Well, then, the first thing I want you to do, after hugging your family, of course, is to walk right up to him and give him a big hug.”  He chortled out loud at the look of shock on my face.

“But—I’ll still be a missionary!” I gasped.

“Oh, I guess you’re right.” He was still chuckling at my reaction.  “Well, Sister Flake, in that case, you can give him an enthusiastic handshake, or even a high five, I suppose.  But as soon as you get released, I want you to go give him a hug!”

The pilot’s voice interrupted my reverie, announcing our final descent into Phoenix.  I held tightly to my proselyting bag and tried not to hyperventilate at the idea of seeing everyone—including him—so soon.

As I walked out of the hangar, I looked for signs of my family.  Catching a glimpse of balloons up ahead and guessing they were probably for me, I started walking faster, then broke into a run.

“There she is!” I heard, and a cheer rose up as I ran through the hall, flinging myself into the arms of first my mom, then my dad, then each of my siblings. 

“Wow!  You’re all so tall!” I gasped as I took in the fair complexions of my grinning siblings.  I suddenly felt like a dwarf among giants, something I was completely unused to after being among the much smaller frames of the Taiwanese people.

Everyone laughed, and as I made my way among the crowd, hugging aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents, I caught a glimpse of Steve. 

He stood towards the back, as if unsure of where he fit in, and I walked up to him. 

“My mission president says I’m not supposed to hug you yet, but I can give you either a handshake or a high five!” I blushed, realizing that it probably couldn’t get more awkward than this, but, trying to make the best of it, I held up my hand for a high five.

He grinned, then slowly lifted his hand and gave me a high five.  “You can write about this in your journal as the most uncomfortable experience you’ve ever had,”  he chuckled.

I glanced at him, trying to decide if the attraction was still there or not, then decided to look away.  After all, I was still a missionary until tomorrow when I could see my stake president and get released; and so I could leave all those confusing, conflicting emotions to sort out later.

(This doesn't have anything to do with the story at this point, but here's a picture of Steve around the time I was serving! He's cute, huh?)

As I finally woke up, I stayed in bed for a moment and tried to get my bearings.  That’s right, I thought.  I was back home—not in Taiwan anymore.  And today I was going to be released.  I got dressed and clipped my missionary badge to my collar, feeling a rush of sadness at the thought that I would have to take this name tag off for good all too soon.  I squared my shoulders, then went upstairs only to find my mom and Steve sitting at the kitchen table, talking.  Just the two of them.

They both turned to face me, smiling.

“Wow—what time is it?” I asked, blinking in the bright afternoon light, completely disoriented. “Where is everyone?”

My mom laughed.  “It’s about 2:00 in the afternoon—Arizona time, anyway, and the kids are all at school and Dad’s at work.”

“Holy cow—I can’t believe I slept in so late!” I avoided eye contact with Steve, not sure how appropriate it would be for someone who was still a missionary to feel attracted to someone so blatantly attractive, and so I got some cereal out instead of looking at him.

“So, let’s call the stake president and see about getting you released this afternoon, okay?”  My mom picked up the phone to find his number.

I sighed, knowing that what was to come was going to be painful.  “Do I have to?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Steve glance at my mom, who looked sharply at me, but with a definite twinkle in her eye.  “This is unbearable enough without you stretching it out, Jewel.”  Smiling, she handed the phone to me, and I took it reluctantly.

A couple of hours later, I leaned against the threshold of President Smith’s front door, feeling the ache in my heart as I looked at the missionary tag in my hand.  I truly had loved being a missionary, and I felt suddenly lost without that familiar name—the name of my Savior¾on my lapel.

“You okay?” My dad wrapped his arm around my shoulders. 

Trying unsuccessfully to stop the tears from spilling over, I nodded.  “I’ll be fine.  But can we maybe stop by the temple on the way home?”

My parents nodded, sympathy in their faces.  As we drove to look at the Snowflake temple, I tried to get a hold on this new, frightening definition of myself: Jewel Flake, returned missionary.  I looked up at the brilliant Angel Moroni on top of the highest spire and took a deep breath as I felt the peace of the Spirit speak to my heart.

Heavenly Father was pleased with my service, I could feel that.  And now, He wanted for me to move on.

“So, what do you think?” My mom prodded my knee. 

“I’m sorry—about what?”  I struggled to return to the conversation we’d been having.

“Do you want to go on a double date with Steve and us tonight?”

I hesitated, searching my heart.  “Actually, that sounds fun!”  And I was surprised to realize that I genuinely meant it.

As we returned home, I was the first one in the door.  Steve stood in the kitchen drying a stack of plates, laughing at something NaElle had said, but as I entered, he fell silent, looking once again unsure of himself. 

“I have a question for you.”  I decided to get right to the point.

“Sure.”  He set the plates down on the counter.

“Can I give you a hug?” 

He smiled, nodded, and walked towards me, wrapping me once again in his arms.  I sighed blissfully.  This was natural.  This was real.  This was home.

I pulled away, smiling.  “How would you like to go on a date with me?”  I laughed at the look of shock on his face, which was followed quickly by a look of enthusiasm.  “Don’t get too excited,” I warned, “it’s going to be a double date with my parents.  You in?”

“Sure!” He grinned.  “I’ll take what I can get!”

“I’ll go change.  Wait here.”

He smiled and turned back towards the stack of dishes he had been drying, and I ran downstairs to change into, well, something else that wasn’t a missionary outfit.

I took one last glance in the mirror at my missionary attire and silently said a goodbye to Sister Flake. 

Rummaging through my suitcase, I found my only existing pair of jeans, and then borrowed a top from NaElle, who had followed me downstairs.

“You nervous?” NaElle asked curiously.

I thought about it.  “Actually, not really.  More just excited.” 

“Good for you!  I’m excited to hear how it goes.”  She winked, and I headed back upstairs to find both Steve and my parents waiting for me.

“You ready to go?”  My dad asked, grinning.

I nodded.

Steve put his hand on the small of my back—I thrilled at his touch¾and we walked out to the van once more.  I climbed in and sat on the front seat, and he sat beside me.  We’d only been driving for a few minutes before he took my hand in his and began stroking each of my fingers tenderly.  A familiar warmth, one I hadn’t felt for the last year and a half, began spreading from my heart down through my body.  My mom chattered on away in the front seat, completely unaware of the fact that I was just trying to get a grip on the fact that I had been a missionary less than an hour ago, and now, here I was, not only holding hands with a boy, but completely melting because of it.

She paused, and I could tell she was waiting for an answer.  “I’m sorry—what did you say?”  I managed to get out.

“I was asking if you’re still okay to room with NaElle at Aunt Lisa’s down in Mesa.”  She repeated patiently.

“I’m sorry—it’s just that—Steve’s holding my hand, and I’m finding it incredibly difficult to focus right now for some reason,” I answered truthfully.

My dad guffawed, Steve squirmed, and my mom immediately squealed.  “Oh!  Well, in that case, you get to it.  Don’t mind us!”

I smiled.  Yep, I was home, all right.