Called to Serve

As a child, I never really planned on—or even really thought about—serving a mission. Age 21 seemed too far away to be able to plan for, so I essentially always told myself that I’d see when I got there and that if I wasn’t married yet, I’d most likely go. Mission-related thoughts were fleeting and usually flitted away as quickly as they had flitted in; as a result, I rarely gave serving a mission much thought. That all changed when the age changed, however—when President Monson stood at that pulpit and announced that young men could now serve at age 18, I started to cry. I think I knew what was coming. When he announced that young women could now serve at age 19, I remember burying my face in my hands and sobbing. The Spirit completely enveloped me, and goosebumps raced down my body. In that moment, I knew that I needed to serve a mission. Everything changed for me that day.

Over the course of the next few months, however, I began dating a boy who had already returned from his mission and was looking for someone to marry. I was only a senior in high school at the time, so obviously I was too young to be married, but he still continued to talk about it often, and I was so in love with him that a mission gradually disappeared from my plans. Suddenly I didn’t feel that burning desire in my heart to serve, and I began to spend my time imagining a lifetime with him rather than a year and a half knocking doors and talking to strangers in an unfamiliar place.

After we had been together for about six months, things began to fall apart. Our relationship was no longer perfect, and our arguments and disagreements slowly helped me see that we no longer brought out the best in each other or encouraged each other to become better. In July, a year after we met, the Spirit prompted me unmistakably to end things. The thought of doing so absolutely terrified me, but I spent a few weeks seriously contemplating what I wanted for my future and praying harder than I ever had before to know what my Heavenly Father wanted me to do. The answer was clear: I needed to end our relationship for good. It was the hardest thing I ever did, and it broke my heart as well as his, but I knew I needed a clean break in order to participate fully in college and throw myself into a new, post-high school life. The next few months were hard and lonely, but I slowly began to remember the way I had felt when President Monson announced the age change. I had been so sure then. Now that marriage was not in my plans for the near future, and I was nearing my 19th birthday, I began again to consider serving a mission. This time, the answer did not come so easily.

Months passed. I watched my best friend prepare to leave to serve the Lord in Washington D.C. and said goodbye to many other dear friends as well, frustrated and confused as to why, when I prayed about whether or not I should serve a mission, I wasn’t getting an answer. Many people close to me speculated as to why this was happening—perhaps because He had already given me my answer, He wasn’t going to give me the same answer again. I didn’t believe this. Things had changed so much for me during my senior year—I would have sacrificed my relationship with my boyfriend to go if I had felt that I needed to, but I honestly didn’t.

Two months passed by this way, me praying in frustration and begging my Father in Heaven for an answer. I wanted to serve a mission. I had a sincere desire to serve His children and bring them a knowledge of the gospel. But He never told me “yes.” He never told me “no.” Instead, I felt absolutely nothing for what felt like forever. I have never been as confused as I was at the beginning of my freshman year while trying to decide what to do. The clock was ticking. My birthday was approaching. I wanted so badly to receive the confirmation that I needed to serve a mission. Nothing came.

On a Monday afternoon in October, I had an appointment with my academic advisor to tentatively figure out my four-year plan. I mentioned to her that I was considering serving a mission, and throughout the course of our meeting, she continued to speak about my mission in terms of “when,” not “if.” She told me that once I had gotten my call, I should come back to meet with her again, and we would be able to decide on my minor and finish my four-year plan. I found this interesting, as I had never really thought of my mission as a “when,” but as I was preparing to leave and had begun packing up my backpack, I accidentally told her, “Alright, when I get my mission call, I’ll email you to make another appointment.” The word “when” slipped out without me even noticing it—until after I had left her office. When I finally realized what I’d said, something in my heart changed.  I returned to my apartment in a daze and called my mom to tell her that I suspected that I’d gotten my answer. I felt the Spirit gently working on my heart, whispering to me that I had waited long enough. Perhaps I was supposed to serve a mission after all.

That weekend, I went home to spend time with my best friend before she left on her mission the next Wednesday, and she came with my family and me to see The Saratov Approach, an LDS indie film that had just been released to theaters a few weeks earlier. The film documented the true experiences of two LDS missionaries who were kidnapped and held for ransom in Saratov, Russia in March of 1998. During the scene in the middle of the movie when Elder Propst and Elder Tuttle discuss the reasons why they each decided to serve missions, I suddenly had an epiphany. Neither of them said anything even remotely related, but the thought entered forcefully into my heart, and I have never been able to forget it: “The Savior atoned for the sins of every person ever to live upon this earth. If I choose not to take advantage of this Atonement in order to become clean again, then I waste His gift. But I would be even more wasteful and ungrateful if I did not go out to each of those people and share with them the message of this restored gospel and of Christ’s Atonement—of the chance that they have to become clean through Him that gave His life for us. How selfish would I be if I denied Him my help in bringing that message to the children whom He loves so dearly?” As soon as I had formulated those thoughts, the Spirit confirmed to me that they were true. My body flooded with warmth and goosebumps, and I began to cry. I received the confirmation I had been waiting for and felt exactly the same way I had when President Monson announced the age change. I once again knew without a doubt that I needed to serve a mission.

The next few months dragged slowly by until I could finally submit my mission papers on December 30, 2013. I kept a countdown on the whiteboard next to my desk. But eventually they went in, and, soon enough, I was standing in front of family and friends, ripping open a white envelope. I have never been so terrified and so excited all at once in my whole life. I remember being so scared that I almost didn’t dare open it, but excitement propelled my fingers forward as they slowly tore the paper and removed that cream letter with President Monson's signature on it. I read the words in slow motion. I had been called to serve as a missionary of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When my eyes finally stumbled over the location in which I would be spending the next 18 months of my life, my heart seemed to rejoice and melt all in the same moment. I was filled with incredible love for the people of Viña del Mar, and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Chile was the perfect place for me.

I have less than three weeks left until I leave, and it’s been a long four and a half months since I opened my call, but I have been blessed with so many tender mercies throughout the process that have reminded me of why I’m going to Chile and why I need to serve. I know that serving a mission is what I need to do. This gospel has blessed my life tremendously, and it is true. I have no doubt of that. I absolutely cannot wait to share my knowledge of the Savior, His Atonement, and the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon with the people of Chile whose hearts don’t yet know the peace and joy that a relationship with the Savior can bring into their lives. As of today, there’s only 19 days left until I will finally be able to put on my name tag and spend 18 months in a labor of love unlike any I have ever participated in before. The Lord loves His children in Chile, and so do I.