So likely all of you have heard my story about how I decided to serve a mission when I was four. So we are going to have a brief recap of this story (one from my 4 year old journal and then from my current journal.)
4 year old me (adjusted for my best guess at spelling and grammar):
"I went to the Mesa Temple Easter [pageant? I spelled it pag ent. Two words]. I got lost. A scary man yelled at me with a Ms Frizzle voice. (Magic Schoolbus reference to Ms Frizzle's terrifying megaphone.) He told me bad things. A nice man said 'Be Nice' and he stopped yelling."
After that point I guess my hand was tired of writing.
19 year old me:
19 May 2013
"When I was four years old (or so I assume because Mom had yet to have Will), I went to the Mesa Easter Pageant with my family. Somehow I got separated from them. A protester saw me and got off the chair he had been standing on and got all up in my grill with his megaphone yelling at me for being LDS, telling me I was going to hell, junk like that. I tried to protest reciting the Articles of Faith I could choke out past my terror, Bible and Book of Mormon verses my Mom had taught me--ANYTHING to get him to stop being so mean. It only made him angrier. (In retrospect reciting Proverbs 1:10 when he was telling me I should not be LDS was a bad idea.)
"I was in tears when I heard a young man behind me demanding to know exactly what the protester thought he was doing, screaming at a little girl. The young man put his arm around my shoulders and confronted my attacker, calmly asking what his objections were to our faith. He then proceeded to politely but firmly counter the protester's incoherent and erroneous declamations with scriptures from both the Bible and the Book of Mormon.
"The protester, humbled, put down his bullhorn and walked away. The young man, who I found out had been home from his mission for about a month, helped me find my Mom.
"I remember how terrified and helpless I felt with my limited knowledge of the Restored Gospel of Christ. I remember how much safer I felt later. I knew then that there were people that feel like that to some degree or another all the time. How can I not go forth and serve? I owe it to them as my brothers and sisters. I owe it to my God. I owe it to my Savior. I owe it to my wonderful parents who taught me all that I know. I owe it to my spouse and children. I owe it to that righteous RM who saved me, but most of all I owe it to myself. And THAT is why I am going on a mission."
Yes, that is actually how I write in my journal. But after reading that particular blog post I realized there is another group of people who have influenced me and strengthened my desire to serve a mission: my friends
|Of the five of us in this picture, I am the only one without a mission call!|
|Same goes for this one|
|And this one|
|Elder Forsgren- Sao Paulo Brazil|
Also: I actually AM in this photo. I'm the one in back trying not to fall over.
|Sister Hull- Sao Paulo Brazil|
|Elder McCullough--CA Irvine|
|Sister Welch -- TX McAllen Spanish Speaking|
|Sister Winters-- Alpine German Speaking|
|Sister Moulton -- CA Roseville|
And speaking of perfect women, hot DANG. Men better look out because once this babe gets off her mission she will be the most amazing wife in the world! As is, she is already the best friend anyone could ask for: considerate, nurturing, loving, sarcastic (only in the nicest way possible), and not afraid to get down and dirty with any madcap adventures you can devise! Yes, I sound like a matchmaker. No I don't care.
|Elder Andersen -- Novisibersk Russia|
Okay guys. I know it's a different last name, but this kid is as close to a brother as I could find up at college. Who else would completely ignore me when I tell him to leave me alone and DO NOT GIVE ME A HUG DO NOT TOUCH ME. But then ends up being there when I need to talk....generally to give me a smack upside the head with a metaphorical 2x4. Oh, and I very definitely called where he is going on his mission. The boy will return from Siberia a Russian speaking Smurf. (Blond and blue from the cold)
|Hermana Hardy - CA Ventura Spanish Speaking|
This was basically what every day of our friendship was like in college. A singing, dancing, gluten free party where we take selfies and lesser mortals look on in resignation. Hermana Hardy is NOT one I would have ever pegged for missionary service, but she is killing it in Ventura! I can't wait till she returns...we have a sushi date to meet!
There are more people that I REALLY need to add (which I just typed 'Dad' six times...so yes, DAD is one of the bigger reasons I chose to serve) but blogspot won't let me right now. So look forward to part two later...maybe.