You know what? I made this blog forever ago.. And I realized, I haven't posted anything in here. I leave in about 2 months, and I'm so humbled. I want to tell my story on how I decided a mission was for me.
Growing up, I always had the desire to serve a mission, but there was always a bit of a stigma that went along with serving a mission as a girl- "You can't get anyone to marry you, guess you're going on a mission!" It was kind of an internal battle for me. I did what I could to be a missionary, particularly in my last year of high school and since then. I would have gospel-related discussions with friends and offer to hook friends up with the missionaries. Only a few times did that ever really work.. but it was worth a shot. After my senior year of high school, I was a bit of a mess. I had just kind of assumed that things would take care of themselves and I would just go to school while living at home, then transfer to a college sort of nearby and become a nurse. That was my plan for a long time. September of 2010, I started going to school. I started casually dating a guy friend and I thought I had stuff figured out. Everything seemed pretty easy, and I didn't really think much about a mission because my life seemed "set." , and I most definitely didn't want to mess with the fine balance I thought I'd created. I was so close-minded. Every once in a while, when I would realize (or re-realize) the guy I was seeing was going to leave on a mission, the thought would run through my mind, "You can too, you know." But after a while, the idea of going on a mission really scared me. I lost the drive to serve and gained the desire to curl up and wait around for something good to happen. That was when things got crazy.
The boy and I broke things off, he was still my friend but I really didn't see him much. A guy who is very dear to my heart came home to await his departure to his mission, so I spent as much time as I could with him.. and once again, thoughts of serving a mission started popping up in my head. I wanted to go. I knew I wanted to go. But I was scared and there was that gosh dang stigma. Not to mention (and I know- this sounds terrible) I was really not looking forward to the fact that I would probably miss out on seeing my closest friends for around 3 years total. That just didn't sound appealing. I was being selfish and I knew I was, but I ignored it, and told myself I wasn't made to be a full time missionary and I left it at that.
Now we're in December of 2011. I discussed options for my future with a friend of mine. I told her how I wanted to go to school in Utah, I wanted to go to BYU, but I knew that because of my sporadically poor performance in high school, I was going to need to transfer there. She and I weighed out the options and I found the Business College in downtown Salt Lake City. All my credits would transfer, it wasn't far from BYU.. It sounded like a great idea! I quickly set to work on getting myself there. I started saving up money, I managed to get a 4 year scholarship, and I applied to school. Things were working out great. I had 3 jobs.. but I knew it would be worth it because something important was waiting for me in Utah. I didn't know what, and I didn't know why I needed to be there- I just knew that I needed to get there, and quickly.
Finally the day arrived that I moved out of my parents' house and to a completely new state, by myself, to live with a girl I had never met. My parents and I loaded up our big blue truck with boxes and the dog (Cooper), and drove through the night to Salt Lake. The entire way there I was anxious and sad, yet excited and so so ready. I hugged Cooper and prayed for safety and a clear mind. We arrived, I settled in, my parents left, and it seemed like it was only a matter of minutes before 3 weeks had passed. I was now a girl from a po-dunk little town in Oregon living in a (seemingly) great big city. I lived right across from Temple square. That was possibly the biggest blessing. I needed that constant (gigantic) reminder of a plan bigger than myself. Before my classes I would go do baptisms or walk around the Temple or I'd read my scriptures by the Christus. I was experiencing constant spiritual growth, and I felt it.
Every weekend I would take public transportation down to Provo and spend the weekend with my best friend or my cousins. It was fun, and I enjoyed it. I got along with my roommate great. She was really chill, we got along but didn't feel the need to get caught up in each other's lives, it was perfect. I kept up in my classes, actually managed to do a lot better than I ever thought I could do (especially taking 18 credits), and life seemed peachy keen.
Now we're at conference weekend. October 2012. I received a text from a friend from back home informing me that she and a few other friends had driven down to Utah for conference and had an extra ticket to the Saturday morning session. They offered it to me and I readily accepted the kind gesture.
I went to that session where our beloved prophet, Thomas S. Monson, made the incredible (and life changing) announcement that the age for girls to go on a mission was being changed from 21 to 19. I have tried many times to describe the feeling in the conference center when the announcement was made, and the only way I can think of to describe it for me, personally, was closure. I started crying before the words left his mouth, I knew that I was going to receive the answer to my questions and confusion over the last two years of my life. People were hugging, girls were crying, boys were crying, (a boy around my age in front of us said, very distinctly, "Well, there go all of my prospects..") and the feeling was amazing. Now, keep in mind, at this point, I was still 20 years old. I knew that the likelihood of me leaving before I was 21 was still slim, but it wasn't the age changing that pushed me to go on a mission. It was the feeling in that room. It was all of the desires of my heart that I'd been choking out with feelings of "I'm not good enough" and "I'm just not missionary material" being freed. I needed that experience to push me. I needed to know what it was like to live without my parents, to have reality placed in front of me without someone there to fix it when I messed up. That night, I called my parents and told them I was going on a mission. I remember my mom saying, "We already know." My parents anticipated it, and had already started discussing it. I knew it was the right choice!
I received texts and calls from friends back home for the next week, all saying, "You're going on a mission, aren't you?" or, "That change was made for girls like you, Sofie." It warmed my heart that people thought so highly of me, that they saw me as missionary material when for so long, I didn't think it was for me.
Remember that boy I that I said was dear to my heart and had left on a mission? I received a letter from him, advising me to seriously consider a mission, as well as a letter from another close friend with the same advice.
I went through and made plans with my parents. At Christmas, I moved home, got a job, started saving money, submitted my papers, and now, here I am! Preparing to serve the people of Rio De Janeiro, Brazil. I'm excited and nervous to go. It's taken a lot to get me to this point but I feel like it is what is best. There are times when I feel doubt, but I know that is Satan trying to persuade me that I can't do anything to further the Work. I am going to faithfully serve with all of my heart. I love this gospel more than life itself and I would walk around the world forever, bringing the gospel to all those who would hear it, if that's what was required of me. I love my support system of family and friends who have held me up when I have come so very close to falling down, and I know that this life is just a refining fire for the next. I can say with surety that our Father in Heaven will bless those who sacrifice much for the betterment of man and I hope to earn those blessings.
I say these things, in the name our Brother, Savior, Redeemer and Friend, Jesus Christ, amen.
