It's been an emotional month. Ironically the month of family and gratitude is the month that we've cried the most, hugged the most, and loved each other the most. A few hours after Preston left for the Mexico MTC my dad and I had a rare hour together to talk. The house was quiet, as everyone still slept after the very early morning wakeup for the airport. The house seemed to have an air of emotional exhaustion, sadness, yet relief, as the reality of Preston's departure sunk in.
Dad was surprisingly talkative, and more open than he'd been with me in a long time. I guess the loss of a family member can do that to you. It exposes feelings you didn't realize you had and reminds you of what's most important. After a good amount of time talking about losing Preston, then how mom and Joel were handling it, we turned to Larissa.
I had brought up the events of a couple nights prior, when we were sitting down at dinner together. Larissa, it seemed, was talking before she even sat down, although to no one in particular. She babbled on and on, jumping to one topic to the next with seemingly no transition, talking part of the time at her phone, and part of the time at us. What I listened to didn't make much sense, but my attention was quickly drawn to everyone's faces. Their heads were all drastically bowed toward their plates, as if doing everything possible to ignore her. I caught a glance of Preston rolling his eyes, and I started to laugh. It was one of those sibling exchanges where you know exactly what they're thinking, sans words. "Here she goes again," he said.
It took me back to memories of my little sister- 20 or so years ago when she was in her head in almost the exact same manner, and all I could do was giggle and giggle and giggle. It was such classic Larissa to babble on like that, a side we see of her whenever she's in a particularly good mood, so it was no surprise that everyone's patience and interest had dwindled and gone right out. Somehow it was so comical to me in that instance that I still laugh just thinking about it.
When I brought this up to dad, how funny I found this to be, he chuckled then almost turned sullen. He told me how he'd taken her to the store to pick out her birthday cake just a few weeks prior, and she'd been going off about her mission. Since she talks quite frequently about her mission, he said he zoned out, almost batting her off despite her repeated attempts to get him to interact. He suddenly choked up, expressing his sadness about his actions. He'd obviously given it quite a bit of thought, as it seemed to really bother him that he hadn't been there for her when she needed it, even if it just meant a listening ear. I felt like I gave pretty good advice when I said, "Well, I'm sure you'll have plenty more chances to do just that." Little did I know how wrong I could have been.
That evening, the same day Preston flew to Mexico, Jason and I flew to California in preparation for the Mexican Riviera cruise we were about to embark on. Larissa left for Europe the following Monday, her first trip out of the country, and alone no less! She'd shared her plans with me for weeks, but when I was flipping through the channels on our interior stateroom TV on a day at sea and first saw news about the Paris terrorist attacks, I nearly yelled, "my sister's there!" As the commentators unfolded the news about a series of coordinated terrorist attacks consisting of mass shootings, suicide bombings and even hostage taking in the City of Lights, I couldn't remember for the life of me what day she said she'd be in Paris. I messaged her and mom and dad for word, but no avail.
The longer I thought about it the more guilt I felt. I had seriously considered going with her, or rather meeting up with her on the second half of her trip following the cruise. It's no question how badly I want to tour Europe, but more than that I was worried about her traveling alone. Having never been out of the country, used a passport, figured out a train schedule, paid in Euros, I don't know, I worried about her, and felt that older sibling protective instinct flair up again, as I considered piggybacking her trip. Eventually I backed out due to the usual adult excuses that goes something to the tune of responsibility, maturity, responsibility, maturity- you get the picture that ruins all the fun.
So now sitting in my room in the middle of the Pacific with no phone service and very expensive Wi-Fi, I felt deep guilt that if something happened to my little sister I wouldn't be there to protect her, or to simply be there with her, wherever she was, whether she was a victim, an onlooker, a passerby or even in a neighboring country.
Two days later when Jason and I disembarked the cruise ship and we finally received messages from Larissa, I was stunned with amazement, relief, and deep gratitude.
Again with my dad, this time alone in my car on the way home from the SLC airport, he got choked up again talking about Larissa. He filled me in with things I knew when I asked about her, but then told me something I didn't know- the day before the attacks Larissa had spent the day- one of her limited and precious days in Europe- at the temple. "There's something to be said about standing in holy places," he said as his voice cracked. The awe I felt then, and had felt toward my sister was unmatched. My little sister, whom I had always expected to lead by example, was leading me. She teaches me.
Larissa's shining testimony is a beacon of light too bright to ignore. She doesn't need me- an older sister to follow- she has what she needs- an older brother who is the greatest example of all time. Since her sights are firmly set on Him, He has and will protect her, care for her, and watch out for her. With Him, she has no reason to fear.
Larissa's example of full obedience and humility is a great strength to me. Her testimony builds mine, and I see it do the same for our brothers, despite their impatience for ceaseless mission talk. :)
So today when she FaceTimed me to share Wednesday's adventures in Europe, I gave her my undivided attention. I turned off the TV, I told her I loved her. Maybe this post will tell her how much I admire her. Because even though I didn't expect it, SHE is the example to me.