the beginnings of a missionary



It's day two. They certainly keep you busy here, which is good though because you have no time to miss home. We ate at Cubby's before my parents dropped me off. Skipping lunch might've been a good idea. I didn't feel anxious, I still felt at peace, but my body told a different story. I cried when we first drove past the MTC. Seeing all those elders waiting for the new arrivals just reconfirmed that this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. My farewell with mom and dad was short and sweet, it's better that way. I met my host who kindly pulled my three bags, hugged my parents, said goodbye, and that was it. I walked away. I remember dad's last words being, "do work" – he had tears in his eyes.

I thought I was fine, but as I walked away the tears just started streaming down, hello waterfall on my face. Everything was very organized, which the perfectionist within was grateful for. Got my nametag, key, ID card, books, room. I saw Tehya (Sister Griffiths now) and it was such a tender mercy to see a familiar face! My companion arrived. She's a very kind girl who definitely has a testimony and personal relationship with Christ. She has already been such a dependable companion, always finding opportunities to serve me.

My district is small, only 4 companionships, but small is great. I love our teachers. They're quite different, but in the perfect sort of way. The spirit here is amazing! When we sing hymns as missionaries… ahhh! I die! I tear up every single time. I downright cry every time I'm asked to pray. Last night my roommates and I said a "family prayer" and I lost it. Not in a homesick kind of way, more of a I feel their love and prayers sort of way. I know they are praying for me all the time.