My Decision To Serve

My journey to decide to serve a mission begins with the age change.... in 2012. I know what you are thinking, "that was so long ago that you could have served two missions by now." I know. .
Let's start there though. I remember so vividly sitting at Denny's restaurant in Provo,Utah with my best friend, Kenzie, her roommate, Hannah, and Hannah's family (breakfast with strangers is what this post should be called). Kenzie, Hannah, and I were all 18 year old freshman and thought we knew everything about life. I sat there wearing no makeup, impatiently waiting for my cinnamon raisin French toast, and NOT watching General Conference like I should have been. Suddenly, a buzz erupted across the restaurant, and we heard the news- girls could now serve at age 19. 19. I was almost 19. In fact it was almost four months to the date of my 19th birthday. I could go on a mission basically now. Woah. Tears began streaming down all of our 18 year old faces and we suddenly realized that a life changing event had taken place. We knew were going on missions.

The next week I was back in Logan (I went to school at USU, not BYU, I was just visiting for the weekend). I still thought wanted to serve a mission. In fact I had told basically everyone that I was going, and received much support. It just wasn't the right time yet. I was nowhere near prepared, but I wanted to be. Part of me worried that I wanted to serve just because everyone was going on this new adventure. Besides, I didn't have a major, and I was facing the fact that college wasn't all I thought it would be. I had no idea if it was the right thing for me to do. I had never even considered going previous to the announcement of the age change. The thought of a mission basically repulsed prior to that significant event. I had left high school with the desire to get married at age 19. Not go on a mission. So, in an effort to get some answers, I decided to receive my Patriarchal Blessing. I thought for sure the answers to my future would be in there on whether or not I should go.

They weren't. No direct mention of a mission. Back to square one.

Months passed and I transferred to BYU-Idaho. It was April 2013 and once again a mission was on my mind. It was overwhelmingly on my mind. I enrolled in a Mission Prep class just to test the waters. I would ask people all the time where they thought I would go. One day my sister said to me, "You'll probably go to California." My heart sunk. California? I despise California. Gross. I did NOT want to go to California.

Then the perfect escape plan came into action- I got a boyfriend. He was an RM. We became the best of friends quickly and spent all of our time together. How could I leave him? 18 months seemed like an eternity and he already said he wouldn't wait. I didn't want to leave anymore. I wanted to get married. Goodbye California, helllllloooooo marriage.

We didn't get married. I didn't go on a mission either. In fact, I just went to school but there was always that idea of a mission in the back of my mind. Whenever it surfaced, I would push the idea away faster than it came. I'm stubborn like that. I did not want to go. I had no desire. Sure, I wanted adventure, but even I knew that that wasn't the right reason to go on a mission. Besides, the whole California idea really scared me off.

At this point you are probably thinking, "this girl is pretty shallow and immature." Yes. I will admit that at that point in my life that could realistically been considered the truth.

Fast forward to a year and a half later and you'll find that life happened. And when I say life happened, I mean IT HAPPENED. I got beaten to the ground spiritually and that is where I found Him. My Savior, Jesus Christ, waiting for me at the bottom. I struggled with my testimony and religion in every sense of the word. I didn't believe the church was true. I barely had a hope of it being true. It was just something I did on Sunday. One of my RM friends told me about his experience with taking the missionary lessons post mission. I thought that was interesting that he took the lessons considering he was an RM himself. He told me that he was just struggling and wanted the extra help. We had this conversation over Chinese food. So, while eating my tangy Asian chicken, I decided that I too was struggling and maybe I needed some extra help.

I started the missionary discussions being extremely hesitant and really questioning what the elders had to say. I dare say that I even fought them. I wanted concrete answers that made sense, and I wanted them my way, not the Lord's way. Don't you worry though, He humbled me. For some reason the elders must have seen something in me that I didn't see; a Child of God. They continued to come and teach me in my lonely apartment. With time I developed a friendship with them; something that I desperately needed. That friendship allowed my heart to soften and I began to really listen- not just question. The missionaries changed my life. They gave me hope in a world that seemed empty. They taught me to have faith in my Savior and truly believe that He lived. They taught me that I am loved and have worth. I don't think I can ever repay them for that.

For the first time in a long time, I started to actually FEEL something. I felt a change in me. This change was something I had always heard about, but never really known to be real. I felt that my life had a purpose and that there was a point in continuing forward. I felt a warmth each day as I began to recognize seen and unseen angels around me being sent from above. I didn't feel so alone anymore as my testimony of my Savior became stronger. He became my strength as I slowly developed a trust in Him and His redeeming love. He truly became the one thing that on days when  felt like I had nothing, I knew Christ was there.

I began allowing the Savior and my loving Father in Heaven to shape my future and part of that future was moving to Utah. The missionaries met with me for almost an entire semester of school before I transferred to BYU (college number three, I know what you are thinking, "this girl seriously needs to make up her mind and finish her education. Quit messing around"). BYU was a great blessing to my life. I was on solid ground with my testimony and ready for the fresh start that I had been longing for. I moved into an apartment with two RM sisters. They found out that I was once again considering a mission and pestered me nonstop about how great missions were. I didn't want to hear about it. In fact I told them I wasn't going to go just so I didn't have to hear about it. Besides, I was happy in Provo. Once again, I DIDN'T want to go.

One day in February 2014 I was feeling a little confused about my future and the thought came clearly to my mind that I needed to serve a mission and that is what Heavenly Father wanted.

Fine. I'll go.

Yep, I was about as begrudging to accept that kind of answer as it sounds. I still didn't want to go. I cried my eyes out. I told a few people about my experience, but mostly I played with the idea in my mind until I figured out every reason why I shouldn't go. I honestly believed that the only reason the idea of a mission was in my head was because I wanted to travel and I liked change and every other reason that really isn't an actual reason why you should go.

The semester flew by and I still had that direct impression in the back of my head. In a final attempt to flee from a mission, I decided to move to Washington State for the summer to live with my sister and her family up near Seattle. The change was a welcome one as Provo can become quite stuffy (You know, Provo All-Stars and such). She asked me a few times about a mission and I told her that I wasn't going and I felt like I wouldn't regret that choice. I even believed myself when I said it.

One Saturday in Washington the Jehovah Witnesses came and knocked on the door. I answered and they asked me if I believed in God. I said that I did and then they proceeded to talk with me a bit more. Eventually I told them that I was a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and I think from that point they knew I wasn't going to join them, but we still had a nice conversation. We talked about how many people in the world don't believe in religion anymore. I just felt a sort of love for them as we talked because I really respected what they were doing. They simply believed so much in their religion and wanted to share it with others. I told them I appreciated their devotion to their religion and then I went about my day (I went boating to be exact).

Later that same day I was getting ready for a YSA dinner and as I looked at myself in the mirror I started to cry (yes, it is as awkward as it sounds to look at yourself in the mirror and start crying). The thought came to my mind that I HAD to go on a mission. There was no putting it off anymore. The Jehovah Witnesses had proved that to me more than ever that the gospel has brought me so much joy and happiness to my life that I HAVE to share it with others. I want my fellow brothers and sisters to have the same joy that I have and to feel the same peace that I have. I wanted to be just as devoted to bringing others to Christ as they were. So, I packed my bags and left Washington the next day to head back to Utah and start my mission papers. As you can see, when I make up my mind I really stick to it.

The process went rather quickly although I was stressed out for about five hours thinking I had TB. I don't. The doctor's sure gave me a scare on that one. Then, a month later I had my call in had.... I wish I could relive that moment over and over again. The whole world was literally at the tip of my fingers. I could be going anywhere. I was almost certain it was stateside though. I fought back tears as much as possible while reading my letter....

ENGLAND LONDON SOUTH MISSION. It was truly a dream come true. Ever since I was a little girl I had longed to go to England. I grew up hearing about England from my dad who served there. I didn't believe it was possible, but through the Lord all things are possible.

I am grateful for the opportunity that I have to serve a mission. Although it has been a three year process in the making, The Lord's timing is best. I finally feel ready and able to serve and I am going where the Lord needs me to go. England is just a bonus. Our Father in Heaven is so aware of us. When we are obedient to His will He will bless us each and every day. My word of advice is to not put off the promptings of the Spirit as much as I did, but I also know that I am where I am supposed to be and I am more ready than I would have been three years ago. I guess a part of me knew all along that I would serve, it just took some time, a few reality checks, a huge growth in testimony, and the Jehovah Witnesses to make sure it happened.



Breakfast all day everyday,

Hailee

1 comment:

  1. Hay-bay,
    I know you won't see this until after your mission, but I just wanted to say thank you for sharing your testimony and your story. I guess neither of us were right when we decided to leave on missions at 19 like we had planned, but we're both where we need to be and it just keeps getting better. I love you girl. Keep on keepin' on. :)

    Love,
    Kenz

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