I finally, finally got my last interview on that Thursday (see last post for the full description of frustration). It was great. I got my list of to-do's from the stake president, and he assured me my papers would be submitted on Sunday, and I should get my call the next Wednesday. In hindsight, I need to give some credit to God for his timing. My grandmother passed away that week, and my family would be up here for her funeral. Had the stake president been timely (with regards to the other 100 girls looking to interview) and all papers filled-out correctly, I could not have possibly waited for my family to get here. I guess he's got a plan after all.
I was surprisingly calm. Oh of course, I never hit the pillow in a passed-out stupor like I usually did; I was kept awake for a few minutes to think about all the possibilities. The excitement lasted all night and got me up a bit easier in the morning. I was just so relieved that it was finally out of my hands, there was no further pestering I could do to the poor executive secretary that somehow still didn't know who I was when I went in every week to check up on any appointment availability. But all in all, I still managed to live normally day to day, get what I needed done, and keep it silently in the back of my mind. I think it's part of my nature to have things hit me late. I accept change I think fairly easily. Even when I had moved to BYU only 2 weeks after graduation, I felt apathetic. Even after setting up my room, unpacking, and saying goodbye to the family, and in bed awaiting the first day of college in a new state, in a giant university, with little knowledge of what to expect, I accepted that and went to sleep.
I'm guessing that's how I'll be, stepping off the plane in New York in 2 1/2 months. That might be a bit more of shell shock, maybe.
I had found out from a few friends that in the previous weeks, calls had been coming in on Thursdays. I decided to anticipate the same for me, but you can't blame me for hiding the mail key before I went to school, just in case. Well it didn't come and that was fine, I had only 24 more hours to wait. I could handle that. I decided to actually study well and distract myself...hopefully the hours would fly by. I texted my parents early on Thursday morning to make sure they had left on time to get here by 6 (The Curtis Family Vacation Watch usually has us running on average about 2.5 hours late). They had. My Valentine's Day was going to be the best ever.
Well it wasn't. It wasn't here. I was heartbroken. The timing hadn't worked...it was all for naught and now I was mad at the stake president again (whoops!). I had forgiven him since the untimely fashion allowed my parents to be here, but now they would be leaving on Monday morning and I had no call. I began stalking hashtags on Instagram and Twitter and Facebook to see if everyone had received theirs and it was just mine that was the mishap, or if I could have any hope for Friday. It seemed I could hope a little bit, but I didn't want to be disappointed again.
We attended the funeral and had our fill of the typically delicious funeral potatoes and ham. After half the day was gone, it was time to check the mailbox. I really, really didn't want to. I was scared. It was black and white. I either had it or didn't, and if it wasn't today, my family wouldn't be here to see it.
It worked out. I suppose things like that tend to do that.
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