"Don't let the test deter the decision." -Rob Mortimer
To set the stage, I was 18. Up to this point this was where I was at: In the LDS church all young men are expected to serve a 2 year mission away from home with the only communication with family being weekly emails and two phone calls a year. Sound terrifying? I definitely thought so. However, for some reason unapparent to me, I still felt I should go. In my mind it still was a far way off and I had a more exciting adventure in front of me, College.
College was
everything I dreamed it would be. The minute I walked in to my apartment and saw
Alec setting up his bedroom with cases of Diet Coke, I knew whom I was rooming
with. We quickly became friends and became the support we didn’t know we
needed. As the Little Caesar’s pizza boxes stacked up in the corner, our minds
were filled with semi-useful knowledge and our social lives full with awkward
first dates and parties that were quickly left. Conference weekend came and
grateful for a much-needed break, we took the overpriced bus to Salt Lake City to
spend time with family. Sitting in front of the television with my bowl of
M&M’s on one side and my phone on the other, I was ready to sit through the
hours of talks that stretched endlessly in front of me. Nearly dropping a
handful of yellow and green M&M’s, I heard a voice from the T.V.
“I am pleased to announce that effective immediately, all worthy young
men… will have the option of being recommended for missionary service beginning
at the age of 18, instead of 19…” My stomach fell to the center of the earth.
The words fizzed in my ears and then replayed over and over. It seemed as if a
cruel joke had just been played in a silent movie as everyone told me how
excited they were for me. The hardest questions came as they asked if I matched
their excitement. My dad couldn’t even contain his excitement.
“Do you realize how awesome this is? Don’t you feel lucky?” He said. Did
I feel lucky? Did I feel blessed? This looming skyscraper that was still a year
down the road suddenly fell, crushing the year long road in front of me and
gave me no choice but to climb on top of it or to take the road adjacent. I
felt as if I was standing before a cliff face, needing to get to the top, but
not having the gear to reach it. And to make it even better everyone expected
me to leap to the top of the cliff then cheer and wave as I left them all
behind.
I returned to Rexburg with a sigh of relief to put distance between my
family and I. I didn’t yet realize that responsibility would continue to creep
up on me even though I didn’t have someone yelling it in my ear every minute.
Taking a mission prep class didn’t help either as everyone was excitedly
announcing they had chosen to leave on their mission immediately and had their
papers in. Where did they get the gear to climb the cliff face? Sitting in the
class as yet another student announced their good news, I boiled it down to
what I truly knew: I had to go on a mission and God answers prayers. I knew God
was the answer.
After finishing classes one day my legs and mind made the seemingly long
walk to the Rexburg Temple. Kneeling at a bench I tried to tune out the noises
around me. My knees pushed into the dirt, slowly soaking my jeans with water. I
could feel the cold sensation prickle my knees. My elbows began to turn red as
the granite dug into their ashy points.
Muttering a prayer lacking any elegance or grace--it hit me.
I didn’t quite know what “it” was but I knew it didn’t hurt. This wasn’t
like the daunting feeling I had before. “It” was something hard yet achievable.
It seemed as if the gear and tools I had been searching for appeared under my
aching elbows in front of me. Almost immediately after the rushing sensation, responsibility
crashed upon me like the similar “bricks” I was so good at controlling. A
mansion wasn’t built in front of me, instead a looming pile continued to build
around me and then on top of me. My stomach churned as everything I had to do
materialized inside my head. My future seemed impossible yet probable. My phone
shook in my hand as I struggled to dial my mom’s phone number. My voice shook
as I told her my decision and her voice matched mine as she told me how happy
she was. I grabbed what she said and held tight to it, even with the Rexburg
wind I wasn’t forgetting that simple statement.
I pushed around the cherry tomato in
the salad I bought at Wendy’s. My stomach was quenched so tightly I was
surprised water even was able to find room in there. Straightening my tie I
laughed at one of my dad’s bad jokes then looked around at my family. I loved
them. In an hour I am going to enter the MTC and leave them all behind. I had
conquered the cliff face. However, there was a problem. The minute I reached
the top I found it wasn’t the end, another seemingly unconquerable mountain
stood before me. That was where I was now gazing at the top of the mountain
wondering what I would find. I ended up throwing away the salad and got in the rented
minivan. I was surrounded by people that loved me. Signs from the local
restaurants advertised free meals for missionaries going in to the MTC and I
couldn’t help but laugh. It’s not like any of them could eat it anyways. The
van turned right and we entered the round-a-bout where I would leave my family
behind. I felt numb. My suitcases were pulled out of the trunk and my sobbing
mom gave me a hug while my dad fought back tears pitifully. As I gave my last
family member a hug, I turned around, grabbing my suitcase, and followed the
sea of white shirts, ties, and suit coats. I didn’t dare look back. I felt
brave and so far had held back any major tears. The bricks began falling. I had
left my steel-coated umbrella in the van so the bricks pounded down upon me.
The tears began forcing themselves through my eyelids and down my face. It was
then that familiar rushing feeling entered my whole being. Fear still tore me
apart but I was able to fight back. I held on to the prayer at that granite
bench that got me to this point. I took the steps forward as the door to the
MTC shut behind me.
