Yesterday, as I mentioned, I got to go see Sam teach at BYU.
It was so surreal being there again with him.
As we walked up the hill to campus that we walked so many times, hand-in-hand once again,
but 5 years older and wiser,
I experienced some serious nostalgia as memories came flooding back.
It also got me thinking about my pre-Sam days at BYU.
I've never felt very secure about who I am (more on that later),
but those defining times at BYU helped me cross a bridge in my identity.
My amazing friends and roommates took me into a territory I had never before known,
and for the first time since I was a very young girl,
I was confident in my friendships.
I rejoice in those ridiculous experiences I had...
like the time my roommate and I were so stressed we somehow put out heads through a hanger together...and then of course got stuck.
Or when a bunch of girls in our apartment complex came over and we put on mud masks--brought to us directly from the Dead Sea by my sister!
There was that time my roommate and I decided to make cookies and write notes to, ohh...about 200 people and then dress up as ninjas to deliver them at night.
Oddly, no one was fooled by our disguises.
I was so embarrassed when, on a break from school, I hiked to a waterfall with my sister and her friends. They were all running the trail and I was dying as I staggered along, trying desperately to keep up. They all clapped for me when I made it through a swarm of bees despite my nervousness that none of them seemed to possess.
My friends were always saving me from the precarious situations I got myself in.
And we quickly became known as the girls who were giggling all. the. time.
I really don't know what possessed my sister and I to put mud on our faces and be weirdos. We had so much fun making videos for our sister on her mission in Taiwan as we spoke our fake Chinese.
You'd think I was the serious one, but really I was the one who missed the "goofy face" memo.
And you'd never believe how much fun the bottom pieces of jeans-turned-shorts could be.
The memories go on and on...
riding a bicycle at break-neck speed--one girl standing on the pedals and steering and the other girl balancing on the seat
reading the entire Book of Mormon (that's 531 pages of fine-print scripture, folks!) with friends in just 24 hours
earning the title "dead-fish girl"
challenging my roommates to go an entire day without touching walls...and then losing the challenge and being subjected to eat the nasty concoction the winner invented
slipping and falling on the ice a ridiculous number of times
dropping a cinderblock on my foot and hobbling around in a boot
choreographing an interpretive dance to the poem "Little Tree"
...and so on and so forth.
Sam, meanwhile, was busy being mature, and brilliant, and studious, and watching the history channel, and doing humanitarian work and all of that.
I still don't know how he got past my ridiculous, giggly reputation,
but I am so grateful he did.
When we started to date I heard someone say that it seemed we didn't go together,
because he was so steady and I was so crazy.
(Little did they know of Sam's hysterical sense of humor.)
"Crazy" definitely wouldn't describe the majority of my life,
but I'm so grateful for those silly times in college that defined me
and changed the course of my life.