A series of events that led up to my decision

Growing up, I never, ever wanted to serve a mission. I have a distinct memory of the sister missionaries coming over for dinner while we lived in Maryland when I was about 7 or 8 years old. I remember thinking, what you guys are doing doesn't look fun at all. And that idea stuck for a long time. When I was about 12, in a moment of panic, I asked my dad if every girl was supposed to serve a mission in our church. He explained very clearly* that men were expected to, although not all of them serve and that's okay. But no, he chuckled, there wasn't some sort of requirement for women to go on a mission. Good, I thought.

*He's always been good at clarifying things for me. Love you, homeslice.

When I was a wee teenager, I was dropping off friends after school and we passed a couple sister missionaries who were knocking on doors. I waved. After indignantly telling my friends not to make fun of them because I shared the same faith as them, they asked, "Well are you gonna ever be a missionary?"

I scoffed and said, "No, I don't want to knock on doors all day."

What I didn't add was I loved my beliefs, but I didn't want to share something personal with people who were going to belittle and mock me. It's terrifying enough to have this blog. Plus I wasn't even sure of my beliefs or what they were founded on.

It wasn't until I got to BYU and met some bright, fun, gorgeous girls that I finally had a dialogue on missionary service with girls my age. I also met great guys who were very knowledgeable of the scriptures, and some could speak a foreign language so fluently it made my head spin. (The ones who could speak beautiful south american Spanish were especially distracting.) What they had in common was a mission. I had this realization that these kids were normal. I was intrigued. I asked my classmates lots of questions about missionary work.

Then I met a boy who told me how much fun his mission was. He stayed in America, but it was the best two years of his life. Missions are fun, he told me. He was a stellar missionary, I could tell. I sat in on his mission prep classes while I living in Hawaii, but my circumstances were such that I thought to myself,  missions seem so rewarding, it's a shame I'll never serve. 

At the same time, Mikel was serving his own mission in Japan. My family and I had the opportunity to pick him up and see the places he lived and served in. I felt strange, in a good way, as we took a train to the small town of Takaoka, one of his favorite areas. We attended church at a small, humble branch there, and that strange, calm feeling hit me again.

I had been to so many places over the years while searching my soul about missionary work, so what's one more? I was living the good life in California during the October LDS General Conference when President Monson made the announcement that the age requirement for sister missionaries had been lowered to 19 from the previous 21. I was 20. The prompting to go on a mission hit me like a bucket of water. I cried.

After three years of not being home, I rushed back to Salem as soon as school allowed.

After a couple months of pondering, praying, and talking to every present, past, and future missionary I could find (they all said I would never regret going on a mission), I concluded that I wasn't going to serve. It would be too hard. I would make a terrible missionary. I didn't want to be away from my family for that long. My life was good. Not perfect, but good and more importantly, comfortable.

I met my dad for lunch and was debating whether or not I should tell him about my decision not to go. He had been there for the whole process. Before I could muster up the confidence to tell him, he said, just as a passing thought, "You would make an excellent missionary. And it would change you for the better." This was one of the most pivotal moments of my life, and it was at the South Salem Arby's. I had my answer.

The rest went by so quickly. I interviewed with my bishop, blasted through my mission papers, got doctor's and dentist appointments scheduled, had more interviews, and then after two long and painful weeks, my mission call finally arrived in the mail. I'm going to Singapore.

Did not see that coming.

A mission defined by Ellen

You know that feeling you get when you're about to do something great? Like that nervous energy you feel when you've just taken your first step into a foreign country, or that bubble of exhilaration in your chest as your foot leaves the cliff and suddenly there's nothing but ocean a hundred feet below you? I imagine I'll feel that same excited anticipation as I get dropped off at the MTC in Provo, Utah in two short months, and again when I step off the plane in Singapore and the humidity hits me like a semi.

I have no doubt that I'll experience the extremes of the human emotion spectrum on my mission. I'm going to be crushed when I see the state of poverty some people live in, especially on the island of Borneo, and devastated when someone I've befriended and love ultimately decides not to accept the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I'll feel cheerful as children laugh and wave at me as they play, and pure joy as I see my friends overcome addiction and temptation. I will be in awe of the tropical mountains in East Malaysia. There's just rolling, green jungle for miles and miles. In stark contrast, my jaw will drop at the awesome infrastructure of Kuala Lumpur and Singapore. I will feel frustration, even full out rage when I'm exhausted, biking in the heavy rain or unrelenting heat after a bad day. At that point I'll probably even flip over my handlebars and crash. I will feel afraid, impatient, discouraged, lonely, ecstatic, and blissful over the course of these 18 months.

The Crystal Mosque in Kuala Lumpur
Source

I'm pretty sure I'm going to get attacked by a monkey at some point on my mission, or bitten by a poisonous caterpillar that will make me feel like my kidneys are on fire (no seriously, these are the true stories of RMs from my mission). The locals will chuckle as I stumble over words in my broken interpretation of Malay.

I will be especially devastated if a monkey
flips me off.
Source

Missions are hard. I can't say I know that for sure, I'm just going off of the experiences of my friends who have served missions. They say it's not even possible to explain how missions are hard, you've either experienced it or you haven't. On top of the heavy emotions missionaries experience, they're assigned to a companion 24/7. Sometimes you get along and sometimes you don't. Sometimes you coordinate a lesson so well together that you feel in tune with them and want to be best friends forever. And sometimes you want to punch them right in the mouth. I hope to have patience with all of my companions, but I've heard everyone snaps at least once. And I'm sure there will be times where I have a bad companion, and only after honest introspection will I realize that I'm the bad companion and need to change.

Missions are selfish, really. Right there in my letter from President Monson, it says I will experience more joy and blessings than I previously ever have had. I think about my personal growth. I will be a strikingly different person when I get back. I'll (hopefully) be more disciplined, patient, and loving. I'll be more independent. For those of you that aren't familiar with our church, LDS missionaries only correspond with their families and friends through email and letters. We can call home on Christmas and Mother's Day. That kind of isolation invokes self reliance after 18 months (or 2 years for the men).

I wish I could meet the person I'm about to become. She is much wiser and more beautiful than I am. Of course, all of this isn't going to come to me solely by traveling to Singapore and Malaysia. I need to work hard every day, growing in intellect and spirituality. Only when I'm back home in Oregon quietly reflecting on my experiences will I see the difference in my countenance.

Merry Christmas Elder Wynn! Have fun working while we
open presents and eat ham and lounge by the fire!

Missionary work is also one of the most selfless things a young person can do. Honestly, I'm relieved I don't have to worry about my personal life for a whole year and a half. Russell M. Nelson said this in the October 2012 LDS General Conference:

"Our young missionaries set aside their education, occupation, dating, and whatever else young adults would typically be doing at this stage of life. For 18 to 24 months they put it all on hold because of their deep desire to serve the Lord." 

He says it like it's such a huge sacrifice. It is I guess. I really will miss going on dates, asking my mom for advice, and going on leisurely drives by myself in the lazy summer months. A missionary's time is not her own. Still, I'm more than happy to put nursing school on hold. One of my friends observed that it'll be nice for me not to date any boys for 18 months, seeing that I've just been on one big long date for the past 5 years. I, like most 20-year-olds, don't want to enter the real world yet. Instead, I get to look for service opportunities where I can, and teach fascinating people from all walks of life about my beliefs. I get to experience a whole new culture to bring back and share with my family and friends. I get to make lifelong friends across the globe and I hope somewhere along the way I can get one person to begin to build or rebuild a relationship with their Savior and Redeemer.

Source

Here's the rest of Elder Nelson's talk on missionaries:
http://www.lds.org/general-conference/2012/10/ask-the-missionaries-they-can-help-you?lang=eng