Wayward Nebraskan

I realized recently (yesterday) that I never explained how exactly I came about being transplanted to Utah, at Utah State.  It was not my first choice, mind you.  But nevertheless, I am here.

No one from my family grew up in Utah, so unlike a lot of people, it wasn't necessarily expected that I would move here for school.  My dad has been a Midwesterner his whole life, growing up just outside Council Bluffs, Iowa, where he still works at the local hospital.  My mom grew up all over, but for the most part, is from Wilmington, Delaware.  It was quite lucky that they met actually; my mom was doing her Occupational Therapy rotation in Council Bluffs and lo and behold, met my grandpa -- grandpa introduced son, son- still in missionary mode- taught my mom about the LDS church, she was baptized, THEN they started dating (didn't want to flirt to convert, of course).  The rest is history.  They've been in the Midwest since (aside from a few years while my dad was in his residency that they lived outside Philadelphia). 

My dad attended BYU.  I know there is still a small (large) part of him that wishes I would have gone to his beloved college.  Not that I really have anything against BYU personally, but I just never intended on going there.  I'm actually the first Bendorf (maiden name) to not attend BYU.  All my aunts and uncles on my dad's side attended there, and my three older cousins went to church schools (BYU, BYU-I).  I'm just the rebellious type, I guess.

While I love my religion, I grew up in Nebraska.  The ratio of Mormons to non-Mormons is slightly different there than it is here.  I knew that throwing myself into one of the church's schools would be a little overwhelming.  I still hadn't decided that I even wanted to addend a Utah school when I met my husband.  He was a missionary in our ward, and growing up in church boundaries that mainly included the ghetto of Omaha, our ward was very small (approximately 30 active members).  Our family always got to know the missionaries well because we always had them over for dinner (always meaning 2-3 times a week on average).  Needless to say, my family was very close to my husband as a missionary, and when he went home, we kept in touch.  You can guess the rest.  And almost 4 years later, I'm out here with him.  Good thing I decided attending a Utah school wouldn't be the end of the world...