Happy December 1 from the 1st floor of the Harold
B. Lee Library. How symbolic, I know. I assure you, it was intentional.
A few pretty exciting things have happened in the last
month. First off, I finished the Lazy Man Ironman that has absolutely been kicking
my butt the last month. Who knew that 79 laps of swimming, 112 miles of biking,
and 23 miles of running would be so dang hard? I certainly thought “lazy” would
have more to do with it. Annabelle and I got a free 3-day trial membership
at 24-hour fitness. On the last day, I biked 21 miles and ran 2.25 to finish off the chart. Even
though the shirt is a hideous green, I am probably more proud of it than I have
been of any shirt I’ve ever gotten.
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| Iron Man Champs! |
Second, I ate some of the “Longest Cougar Tail.” Apparently,
if you gave $1 to get a piece of the maple bar tail, you would donate 17 pounds
of food. Sounded good to me, and so my Spanish class/London friend Mackenzie
and I split one.
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| One of the tables holding the Cougar Tail. |
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| My friend Mackenzie and I. Who is the guy in the middle? I've got no idea. |
I made up a funny joke. Oh wait, no I didn’t.
I’ve been researching like crazy for a paper that I ended up
totally disagreeing with my thesis about. Oops. Don’t you hate it when that
happens? Trying to fit historical research into a thesis can be more difficult
than it would seem.
I made fun of Whitney because she spelled tale “tail” and because
she thought that Patrick Dempsey was the actor who played Voldemort.
I became friends with Dez Duron on Facebook.
I went Black Friday shopping with Adam and Kristina at 10:00-12:00 on Thanksgiving Night. We ended up only buying some cheap burgers from McDonald's and wandering around a bunch of stores, but it was so fun and ridiculous all at the same time. We went with Heather the next day as well and actually got some real stuff.
I bought Ed Sheeran's new album and decided to start calling him "Ed" like we are best friends. Because we basically are.
I laughed when my English Professor used the word "cuckold" in our English discussion.
I officially decided that I love Frank Sinatra.
I went to a Ward Activity with my good friend J. Tonks. He is officially the coolest person that ever lived.
I successfully passed another cleaning check. After cleaning out our oven that we never use.
Now for the real news!
I got my mission call!
I have been privately considering a mission for quite some
time, and with the newly announced age-reduction at General Conference, it
seemed like the perfect opportunity. After a profusion of doctor’s appointments
and a slightly uncomfortable examination (ha ha ha), I submitted my papers and
began the treacherous, grueling, exhausting process of waiting.
About a week later, my mom got a call from the missionary
department. Because I’m “special” (like, stop eating the paste special—identify
the quote, 10 points) they called and asked all about my health complications.
Although my mom said she completely missed her opportunity to ask them to tell
me I had to stay home with her, instead she spoke very highly of my attitude
and of my health. Kudos to my unselfish mother.
Finally the night before my mission call came. In my
journal, I had guessed nearly everyday where I thought I was going to go.
Guesses included Wyoming, Massachusetts, Texas, New York, and Idaho. Where was
I going to go? I just didn’t know. Because of my diabetes, it was never a
question of going inside or outside the country. A stateside mission was great
with me. I was just excited to serve.
I knew my call was coming on Wednesday, and Tuesday was
absolutely awful. I was nervous. I was shaky. I wondered what I was doing. A
portion of my journal entry read, “I am seriously so nervous. So excited, but
I’m finally realizing that this is happening and that there isn’t any turning
back.” Yup. That about summed everything up.
Obviously, nobody in my house got any sleep that night. I
kept having dreams that either my call wouldn’t come or I would simply be told
that I couldn’t go. I woke up and considered finding the time, but I knew it
was close to 6 when they would be calling. Instead, when I looked at a clock,
it was 12:30. Same thing at 3:30. Same thing at 5:10.
Finally, at 5:50, the telephone rang. I bounced out of bed
and ran out my bedroom door wearing my UK boxers. My sister Whitney was
standing right outside my room. She hadn’t slept either. My mom answered the
phone, “IS THIS THE MISSION CALL?” only to hear a confused employee, “No, this
is the United States Postal Office.” Ha. The call was there. Waiting for me to
pick it up. Up my hair went, on went my Powder Puff Sweats, and down to the
post office Whitney, Dad, Mom, and I went.
When we arrived home, we were all trying to get our mind off
my call until my siblings arrived. Luckily, my brother Daniel who lives in
California was home, and so the entire family got to be there. I decided to
take a shower and then spend 30 minutes debating whether or not to straighten
my hair. (I ended up straightening about half of it and then wandering my house
some more.) Whitney sat outside and thought about where I was going to go. My
mission call postage was 1.90, which her boyfriend Ben said meant I was going
foreign. I decided I needed extra postage because I’m diabetic and needed extra
info. My mom decided to make muffins and proceeded to add nuts, apples, and
worry into the batter. I don’t know what my dad was doing. I’m guessing
wandering around the house.
When Adam and Kristina arrived, Kristina told me that she
too had had crazy dreams about my call. In her dream, I was in a room with
Annabelle watching a TV show and just didn’t want to open my call even though
everybody was waiting. Pretty funny, especially because Kristina has never even
met Annabelle. She’s just heard me talking about her.
Finally everybody arrived. The moment had come. We went into
the Living Room, where all special announcements take place, and sat down. I
spent about a year trying to knife open the letter, and finally pulled it out.
I read the ever-anticipated, “Dear Sister Ricks, you are hereby called to serve
as a missionary in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” At this
point, I wanted to know where I was serving before everybody else. I looked
down and saw my call. My eyes bugged out and my heart leapt. I could absolutely
not think of anything cooler. I continued reading, “You are called to serve in
the Scotland/Ireland Mission. You are to report to the Provo MTC on March 27.
Prepare to serve the gospel in the English language.”
Woah. What? I was never supposed to go foreign! We’d colored
a stateside map and made bets on it. What was happening? I believe my exact
words were, “Holy crap! That’s the coolest mission ever!” I went to Scotland
during Spring but only got to stay for one day. I was super bummed I didn’t get
to go to Ireland. This was absolutely the perfect mission call. I would have
been equally as excited if it would have been stateside, but because it was
such a surprise, my excitement was completely over the top.
Much has happened since then regarding the call, but that
was the main experience. As long as that was, I wanted to remember the details
that I knew I’d eventually forget. I was so grateful for the gospel, and I continue to be grateful. Happiness is incredibly important to me, and the gospel brings me that happiness that I seek. I was grateful to have gotten my call. I was so grateful to have my entire family
there. I was so grateful for parents who have brought me up with the gospel,
and who encouraged me to pursue the path that I believe is meant for me. I was
grateful for a mother who didn’t move or speak for 5 minutes after she learned
I was leaving the country. I was grateful for a father who had made me feel
completely at peace about where I was going, and who pulled out his “History of
Scotland” book right after my call. I was grateful for brothers who encouraged
me and sisters who cried about my leaving. I have the best family that ever
lived. And that is the truth.
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| That's just hilarious. |
