5. пять. Five.

I know it's been awhile since I've posted. And I have a lot to post about! (The wedding, some weekend trips, summer in general, etc.) But I've needed some time to organize (and my summer French course is eating up a lot of my time), so the blog has gone on the backburner. I hope to change that soon. 

But I knew I had to post today, because today marks 5 years since I returned home from my mission to Donetsk, Ukraine. 

[Less than 24 hours before I left Ukraine.] 

I know I talk about my mission a lot. Like. A lot, a lot. But it truly was one of the most defining, transformative experiences of my life. The people I met, the lessons I learned, the way I learned to love dill and potatoes, the sticky summer heat, the frigid December temperatures, the way people let me into their homes and their hearts--how they shared their stories with me--how they taught me more about Heavenly Father and Jesus than I probably ever did . . . Ukraine has stuck to me. It's impossible to give her up, and I never could, even if I wanted to. 

Looking through these pictures, I realize that I don't have enough. There would never be enough to capture all of the experiences--good and bad--that I have. How can you capture the human condition? And how can you describe a mission? It seems almost impossible to try. 

But I do know that I never understood opposition as much as I did as when I was on my mission: I never felt more tired, I never felt more rejuvenated; I never felt more ugly, I never felt more beautiful; I never felt more full of compassion, I never felt more cynicism; I never felt closer to hell, I never felt closer to God. 

It's been five years, and Ukraine still haunts me, calls to me, reminds me of who I was and what I became, and of work still to do. 

And I have a feeling it will be the same fifty-five years from now.