Our Story, Part I--the Pilot Episode

A lot has to happen...and not happen...for two people to come together and fall in love.

Suffice it to say that, even though I had contemplated serving a mission as I was growing up, when 21 rolled around for me, I didn't feel impelled in that direction. I had a lot going on at the time. I never made a conscious decision not to serve a mission. I just didn't really ask.
Fast forward.
After a rough few years of somewhat self-inflicted emotional roller coaster riding, I finally decided it was time to hop off the ride and pursue something new. I knew that I wanted to further my education, and my adventurous and britophilic side told me it was time to apply for graduate school.
In the United Kingdom.
So I did. I applied to English Lit and French programs at Oxford, Cambridge, Royal Holloway, and St. Andrews. And then..

BOOM.

Seemingly out of nowhere I had a powerful sense that I needed and wanted to serve a mission. At 23? Really? But why? I prayed. I attended the temple. I fasted. I asked advice.
It all happened so fast.
After receiving a few humbling rejection letters from graduate schools, I was still waiting to hear back from St. Andrews in Scotland. It was 6 weeks before school would start, and getting everything together to move across the Atlantic--alone--in such a short time period was starting to feel daunting. And yet still tempting.
Still unsure of whether I was supposed to pursue graduate school or a mission at that point of my life, I made a very specific request of God. Essentially, I said,"If I'm supposed to go to graduate school in Scotland, let me receive an acceptance letter there. If I'm supposed to serve a mission, let me receive a rejection." 
That'll be all, thank you.
Kind of an uppity request, as I look back, but I was trying to sort out my path anyway I could.
Still nothing from St. Andrews, so I pursued a mission. And it felt good and right. My bishop emailed me the link to start my papers, and I started filling them out the same day.

BAM.

The very next day, the mailman brings me a letter from St. Andrews. An acceptance letter.

Do you feel confused? I sure did.
So what now?

More praying and counseling, that's what. I still had a desire to serve a mission, and I realized that it was my decision, ultimately. The Lord had given me both options, and He wanted me to choose.

So I chose a mission. And I felt a sense of urgency about it, for some reason. I finished my papers within a week and a half of starting them.And I prepared. I studied Preach My Gospel in English and Spanish. I memorized the First Vision account in Spanish. I attended the temple. And before long I was set apart to serve as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, little realizing what effect that decision would have on me eternally.

To be continued...

After my endowment