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What a day it was. My mission call had finally arrived. Not knowing when it would come, I had requested it be sent to my home address. Having come a little earlier than expected, my parents overnighted it to me at college. Dad had brought in the mail and not even flinched at the big white envelope for me until mom called. Then it was a race to the post office. Having made it to the front of the monstorous line minutes after the express mail cut-off my dad was thankful they still accepted it. I received it the next day at noon, and soon I was surrounded by friends opening it and speaking over the phone so my family could know where I was destined to go.

Having completely filled up the box of foreign countries visited within the last 10 years, I felt rather confident that a rare chance to go internationally would go to someone else. With that in mind, Oklahoma was not a dissapointment (In fact I thought, oh good it's part of the great plains so I will be biking on flat land....wrong!). I continued reading until I reached the "in the English Language." That was a major bummer. My three years of High School Spanish were a waste. I would not learn a cool new language to converse in. A few weeks into the MTC I knew that I was supposed to serve speaking English. Further into my mission, my Spanish skills would get put to some use.

» My Mission "Call"
Address has been removed.

» Acceptance Letter

» Farewell Invitation
(Password is #'s of my home address)
(BYU friends look up on Route-Y).