"...faith is things which are hoped for and not seen; wherefore, dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith."
My friends, if I have ever experienced an honest-to-goodness trial of my faith, it has been the entirety of my life for the past three weeks. When I met with my stake president to finalize my paperwork, he told me that I could anticipate my fairly low-maintenance application to "shoot through the system" and hopefully I would be opening my call the next Wednesday evening. Call me naive, but I was dead set on that date and planned everything accordingly.
Of course, my call was not assigned the weekend I had expected, and so I resolved to be a little bit more wary. When I discovered it had been assigned a week later, I moved back in on the drawing board and, with the help of my ever-excellent mother, assembled semi-elaborate preparations for a get-together so all my close family (trust me, the 20+ prospective attendees represented only a fraction of the family that I deem truly close) would be able to be with me for the joyous event.
Wednesday was the day. Mom and my stepdad, Chris, postponed their weekend trip to Las Vegas to visit my beloved little stepsister Mookie until Thursday morning so it would all work out. Lo and behold, on The Big Wednesday, I called the post office and they (smugly? Maybe I was a little too anxious) informed me that no mission callings had been sent in that morning. It was disappointing, but my support system is about as perfect as they come and everyone understood when I let them know that I would be opening my call on Sunday night once my parents were home - in the serendipitous event that I actually did receive a mission call.
Cue thunderings and lightnings! All manner of iniquity! Nahhh. That big white envelope came on Thursday and I cradled it, seal unbroken, like a baby while the rest of the world stared at me in sheer confusion. It's my call, is it not? Don't I have the right to open it whenever I darn well please? Yes, World. Yes, I do have that right. And I wanted to wait for my ma. I prayed for patience and lingered in blessedly sedate anticipation. Satan worked on me like I don't believe I've ever been operated upon before (not even the wisdom teefies). Spending time with wonderful friends saved me, but home alone I felt unreasonably and inexplicably depressed and just plain cranky! Emotional stamina will be one of my strong points by the time I return home.
And then, thanks to our beautiful Utah weather, the Sunday evening shindig was cancelled. It snowed. And snowed. And continued to snow and rain until the roads became impossible to travel and, 6 minutes before my folks' flight landed, all runways in the Salt Lake City International Airport were closed and they were sent back to Las Vegas. Apart from the timely appearance of my home teachers and later two of my best friends for a short period, I savored in solitude the evening that was intended to be spent gathered in the company of many of my loved ones as I waited. This sounds rather dreary, but I had made a personal decision to open my call with my mother present and I found peace in sticking to my guns.
I came home from church at 4:00 PM. I cancelled the plans at 6:00 PM. I opened the garage door to usher in my exhausted mother, stepfather, and little brother Andrew at 12:00 AM. Along the way, I finished reading my Book of Mormon and gained, minute by minute, a new appreciation for my calling and a humble understanding of the almighty power and mercy of my Heavenly Father. He gave me hope for those things which I had so earnestly desired and prayed for, then He allowed that faith to be put to the test. I was broken and refined to the point where I was humble enough to discover in which place the Lord would have me serve. And I am pleased and honored to announce that the dynamics of this mission are exactly, without error, without exception, without consequence, the characteristics that I prayed for in faith. (Enos 1:12, 15)
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