That Vast Empire

Before I opened my mission call I happened across D&C 45:9, "And even so I have sent mine everlasting covenant into the world, to be a light to the world and to be a standard for my people, and for the Gentiles to seek to it, and to be a messenger before my face to prepare the way before me." I feel so blessed to join in the work and help prepare Russia for the coming of the Savior. I've watched this video over and over and it still gives me chills!

The Call

In my lifetime I've observed that I tend to react to things a bit differently than everyone else. Most missionary-to-be's are instantly restless when they turn in their papers, checking the mail box constantly and mulling over where in the world they might be called to. If it was legal to set up a tent and camp out at the post office, I'm sure some people I know wouldn't have hesitated a single second. And there's nothing wrong with it, I love their enthusiasm. Thing is that's just not me, and when last Thursday came around, the mail was definately not on my mind. The stake president said it would take two to three weeks so I wouldn't worry till then. I was making croissants. We were just about to eat dinner when dad noticed the mailbox overflowing. Mom lit up and said to me something about my call to the effect of "what if it's here?" I said, I know it's not. (It was.) Emily brought in the mail and set it on the kitchen counter just before we were all about to sit down at the table. No one else saw it but me so I grabbed it. I looked up into dad’s eyes and ran up to my room in panic. When I got there I immediately fell to my knees at my bedside, sobbing. I’m not ready for this! My heart was pounding and my stomach was twisted. To ease my nerves, all I could really do was cry and pray, occasionally glancing over at the big white envelope, the envelope that would change everything. Well, it would change nothing, but really everything. I knew I had to open it, but I just couldn’t. I read a scripture that helped. I read my patriarchal blessing, reminding me who I am and what I’m doing and why I’m doing it. That helped even more. Breathe in, breathe out. Walk downstairs, eat dinner. My family was light hearted and anxiously waiting for me to descend. I told them I couldn’t open it yet and they exclaimed, “WHAT?!?! You’re so silly Kim.” I told them I just wasn’t ready. They understood. But their light heartedness calmed me, made me smile and think, all will be all right. Dad had to leave for work soon and the Spirit was coercing me to open it. My nerves still wouldn't let me actually open the envelope so mom did. Ben and Emily gathered behind her as they read it silently. Mom got weepy and Ben smiled. He said, “You’ll like it. I’m jealous.” I then proceeded to ask a series of questions, trying to deduce where it was. This was a good way for me, so that the suspense could settle a little. 
Is it in the States? No. Is it in Africa? No. Australia? No. Asia? No. (Apparently my family needs to brush up on their geography.) South America? No. North America? No. Then where??
Russia! Well that’s perfect. :) 
Then only peace reigned. A little bit of shock, but mostly peace. 

Waking Up

She comes to the pool every monday, wednesday, friday at 6:15. About one hour later she hops up onto the deck, swings her legs around and looks straight at me. When this happens, I reflexively pull myself out my early morning daze. What is MJ going to say today? Judging by her pastry-like skin and wispy cream colored hair, MJ is most likely in her late 80's. She's one of the sweetest (and the sauciest) old ladies I've ever met. Just the other day she said to me... "Kim, whenever I get out of the pool I can see that my birthday suit needs ironing." and "Never get old. It's no d*** fun." Other than saying thee most unexpected things, I have also witnessed MJ frequently spank fellow pool-goers and throw (soft) objects at them. Good thing she is well loved, or else we probably would have to kick her out.

He comes on tuesday, thursday at 11:30 with his wife, but that doesn't stop him from occasionally flirting with the lifeguard. He told me that I have nice legs and that I could sit on his lap if I ever got tired of the chair. One time I brought my water bottle in with me and he asked me if I had vodka in it. Somehow, these otherwise offensive comments become undeniably amusing because he is probably almost old enough to be my great grandfather.

None of this really has to do with my mission but when this happened does.  Many of you know the hour in which missionaries are expected to wake up each morning--6:30 in the A stinking M. You know who's out at 6:30 in the morning? Stars. The moon. Raccoons and other nocturnal animals.  It's so early that it's still night. I don't do early. They say "early bird gets the worm?" yeah, well so do late nights. My theories on waking up at the crack of dawn closely parallel that of my twinner, Zooey Deschanel: "In an ideal world, no one would talk before 10 am. People would just hug, because waking up is really hard." It IS hard. THE most difficult. Willfully leave the cozy cocoon I've spent the past 8 hours regulating to the perfect temperature and step into the chill of the empty morning air? No thank you.
Knowing this about me, my Heavenly Father set me up with a little practice. Immediately when I moved back home and started working at the Y again, I was given the early morning shift. Now I wake up at 5:30 and I've only been legitimately late once. If this isn't a miracle, I truly do not know what is.

Making the Decision

Fast forward a couple years from my last post and you get a Kim that's a little less concerned with the whole mission thing. Life had taken a few twists and turns, directing me towards opportunities that seemed, at the time, more appealing... Teach English in China or Mexico, live with my roommate in New York, volunteer for the forest service, work for Disney or maybe I could visit Germany again and stay with the beautiful Josie Rodriguez...(can you tell I'm a dreamer?)
Like any confused college student would do, I called my mama. She said, what happened to serving a mission?
Oh yeah. But how can I be sure that it's the right thing to do?
If it's right, you'll be sure.
Are you sure mom? I don't think the Lord always works that way. I'm not sure if I'll be sure. 
You'll be sure. 
Okkaayyy.
I still wasn't convinced until the middle of my spring semester. At that point I felt like I had hit a wall. Nothing was really working out the way I'd hoped. So I said another one of those prayers. One of those that I’ll never forget. Still on my knees, I pulled my scriptures towards me, opened them and read section 30 in Doctrine and Covenants. Heavenly Father could not have been more direct, not even if He came into my bedroom and told me to my face. I was sure. You know that feeling you get deep down in your gut that you just can't deny, no matter the circumstance? I had felt this feeling before, it’s how I know that the Gospel of Jesus Christ is true. These deep-rooted assurances help me when times get rough. I'm so grateful that I was able to know for myself, especially when every single day I have to re-decide, recommit myself to serving a mission. Satan is a nasty one and if you make any righteous decision, He will come after you. 

My God is a God of Miracles

I had just finished making a gyro at the farmers market when I felt a buzz in my pocket. It was my mom. I flipped it open and read what I thought was surely a prank. But it's October... not April... Still couldn't believe it so my mother had my sister Chantal bear second witness. Yes, the mission age really has changed! After the shock wore off, I became a little bitter. I had waited for my turn and now all these teenagers were going to be able to cut in line! So not fair. But then I remembered where I was exactly two years ago.

Two years ago, when I was nineteen, my family went down to Salt Lake City to see General Conference in the Conference Center. My boyfriend had just left on a mission a few months prior and instead of missing him, all I wanted was to be able to go too! Every single ounce of me desired to serve in the field. I've made a habit of praying every morning and night but there are only a handful of prayers that I will never forget, and this is one of them. I cried to the Lord asking, "Why, why can't I go? Why do I have to wait until I'm 21? Lord, help me to understand." As I watched General Conference, my answer came loud and clear. I was to be at home. That was my mission. Looking back I can see how true this turned out to be. I could never, ever imagine my life without the people that I have been so blessed to meet during these past two years.

I know that God's timing is perfect. Now is the time for me to go on a mission. Now is also the time for 19 year old young women to go on missions (and 18 y.o. young men). The Lord answered my prayer, not only once, but twice! My God is a God of miracles. 

Why Blog?

This blog has occurred upon the request of my non-Mormon but wonderfully and beautifully Christian friend, Carla. Although it took me a while to warm up to the idea, I decided that it would be a good thing to do since experiences from other sister missionaries, like my cousin Katie and friend Lori (who has also started a blog), have become invaluable to me as I have started preparing for my mission. I hope that what I have to say will help others who are getting ready to or are even thinking about going on a mission as well. If you are reading this and don't fall under those categories then I guess you're just a friend or family member checking up on me, and that's fine too. :)