I recently made the rather difficult decision to move out of my parents' house. When I first moved back home a little over a year ago, my parents were gracious enough to welcome me back, giving me my old room along with basically the entire downstairs, since I was the only child left at home after Matt went away to school. It was a great experience to spend more time with my parents, but I had set a goal for myself to stay there while I finished school and then to promptly "grow up" and get my own place. So far, I'm loving it. I have a great roommate, and our apartment is cute albeit slightly old and rather sparse. We're working on continually making it more homey, and it's working out well.
Along with this fun new adventure came one very difficult change. I just mentioned that I enjoyed the time I was able to spend with my parents while I was living back home, but I'd venture to say that my favorite part about being back home was returning to my childhood ward. I know I've mentioned my calling in the Young Women program a couple of times. When I first moved out, I thought I would try and just continue going to that same ward, because I really didn't want to say goodbye to my Beehives and the wonderful women I worked with in the presidency.
However, a few weeks ago I started to feel very strongly that it was time for me to go to a singles ward. Between coaching and young women, most of my non-work time is spent with 12-18 year olds, and I haven't done much to expand my social life since being out of school. Last Sunday I taught my last lesson in the ward I've known since I was 4. Yesterday when I got to my parents' house for conference, I saw the sweetest poster made for my by the young women. It's crazy how attached I've grown to those girls, and for the past week I've continually doubted my decision to leave. I'll miss them so much, but I have learned some invaluable lessons from that calling that I'll always cherish.