BYU has been on my mind this week.
It was finals week in Provo, and I talked a lot to various friends and family members about their state of aliveness throughout the week. Thankfully, they all survived well.
I talk to them on a regular basis, often about school, so that wasn’t abnormal. The striking thing about this week is that it’s also graduation—and at this exact hour a year ago I was graduating. A year.
Yesterday evening I was talking with a dear friend who happens to be in town and he mentioned that he was really glad I moved to Boston. Partly because we’re now on the same coast and see each other more than just at Christmas, but more because I was able to leave Provo and the whole BYU scene. While I agree that I would not want to live in Provo again and I am so glad I am here, it made me realize how much I do value that time in my life. A year ago I was certain that I would look back on my four years at BYU in a very specific light, shadowed by very specific experiences, and that view really frustrated me. I didn’t want all of my memories dominated by these experiences.
But it’s been a year, and they aren’t what I remember anymore.
I remember how blessed I was to have so many educational opportunities in devotionals and forums, something that I greatly miss.
I remember how much I loved my program, professors, and classmates. I still love them.
I remember how amazing my Jerusalem trip was, something that I could not have had at any other school.
I remember how nice it was to live so close to Todd and Allison, and to spend a year in the same city as Megan and Desiree.
I remember how I met some of my best friends, who are such great examples.
A year ago today. It went by so fast.
Like a jackal.