Called to Serve

I decided on November 18, 2012 that I wanted to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  

I graduate from the college this May (yes, that's next month!), and for a long time I had no idea what to do next.  I like to plan ahead and having no idea of what to do after May frightened me to death.  I spent a lot of time praying and going to the temple asking for Heavenly Father to help me figure out what to do.  And when I say a lot of time, I mean I started doing that in August.  Three months later, it hit me like a ton of bricks one day in sacrament.  

"Go on a mission."  

After that, there was no question in my mind.  My mom commented multiple times that I seemed so relaxed and pleased with my decision, and I have felt that way since day one.
The Lord told me, "Go on a mission."  So I am.

Brother 2 gets married July 27th, and there is no way on earth I was going to miss his wedding, so I listed my availability date for August 1, which meant my papers couldn't go in until April 1.  November 18 to April 1 was a long four and a half months of waiting.  It made me extra eager and anxious when my stake president called last Thursday and told me it would be here Wednesday.

My intention was to open it on my own and get comfortable with where I'm going before I shared it with my family, but my sister-in-law (yes, that's you, Alison) did not appreciate that idea.  So all my siblings and their families came over, and I'm so glad they were there to rejoice when I opened my big white envelope.

So today...

I had Mission Prep this morning, then went straight to work, then picking the nephews up from school and then straight to teaching piano.  As I took my nephews from school to Great-Grandma's, we drove past my house to see if the mail had come yet.  Brother 2 was standing on the front lawn waiting for the mailman whose truck was parked in front of the house next door, but he was a few houses away.  I hurried my little boys to Great-Grandma's and hurried back just as the mailman walked up the driveway.  I ran in through the back door, through the house to the front door, but Brother 2 beat me there, grabbed MY white envelope and HELD IT HOSTAGE FROM ME!  I mean it!  He wouldn't give it to me!  I had to go teach piano, so I left with threats that he would open it and read it first.  

Meanie. 

Mom and Dad hurried home from Zions to be home by 5:00; Brother 2 asked permission from work to go in an hour late; sister and husband left work early to get there; little sorority sister, Brother 1 and wife came straight from work.  Everyone, including the pizza man, was there when I got home.  I was too anxious; I couldn't wait very long to open it.  I sat on the piano bench and unsealed it, yelling for everyone to hurry into the living room.

I pulled the papers out, glanced at the last line of the first paragraph (I knew that's where it was) and totally jaw-dropped, bug eyes open.  

Brother 1: "Did you read it?"

Me: "Of course I did!"

This time out loud...

ENGLAND LONDON MISSION

WHAT???!!!
I mean...how appropriate.  Look at my background.  It's been that way for months.