Wednesday, October 23, 2013


I don't know about you, but I couldn't help but think of The Backstreet Boys song when I wrote that title. I just looked up the lyrics...why was I allowed to listen to that when I was 10?! Wholesome boy band my booty...

Anyway...this is about a totally different call then the BSB's song.

Throughout the whole process of submitting my papers, I couldn't stop myself from thinking about WHERE I would be serving. It's natural, obviously. I would lay in bed at night thinking about every possible place. What if I was sent this place or that place. Deep in my heart, I really wanted to go Spanish speaking. Even deeper in my heart, I wanted to serve somewhere that my family had served. My father and two brothers all served Spanish speaking missions. Pop: Mexico, Ben: Venezuela, Matthew: Spain. They hadn't been sending sisters from the US to Mexico for years, so that wasn't an option in my mind. Neither was Venezuela since they only send natives there. My only option was Spain. The week I received my call, I couldn't get the idea of Spain out of my mind. I was convincing myself that was where I was going but would then tell myself that I wasn't going there so I didn't get my hopes up. Then I would think "what if I'm sent to Russia? Or the Philippines? They wouldn't do that, right? Wait I'm going to Spain. No I'm not, I'm going to Arizona. Idaho? Montana. Florida? No, Spain. JUST GO TO BED!" This was my thought process for a week straight. I was going nuts. We will revisit this thought in a moment.

That week was crazy. Not only could I not stop thinking about where I was going, it was the busiest week at work. That was probably a blessing looking back because I didn't really have time to think about the call during the day. I thought the big white envelope would arrive on Thursday, since that is the day a lot of people receive their calls here. I told all my family to come over that night and we would eat cookies and celebrate. Emily was home that afternoon and she checked the mail. She had the sad job of telling me the call had not arrived. I was devastated. For real. That whole night I just moped around my house.

The next day was Friday. From 7:30-4:00 I was so busy. I was calling kids non-stop and really had no time to think except riiight near the end of the work day. I would be the first person to check the mail that day so I wanted to leave work right at 4 but my boss came in and asked if I could stay until 5. WHY?! I begged him to let me go earlier. I had done everything I needed to do for the day and I really needed to get home. About 5 people asked me if I had a "hot date" that night. Um, yes. I have a hot date with my mission call. Can I go now? Luckily I didn't have to stay that late and I raced home. The whole 10 minute drive was torture. I kept thinking it wouldn't be in the mailbox. Or worse, someone had stolen it out of the mailbox and I'd never find out where I was going! My stomach was churning as I rounded the corner on my street. I parked and tried to walk calmly to the mailbox. I opened it up and there is was, in all it's big, white, envelope glory. I carefully brought it inside and placed it neatly on the front table. Well, after it had a photo shoot and I texted everyone to come over at 8:30 pm

I liked this photo the best. The light hits it just right...

But then I had to wait. I probably should have stayed at work late. I had to wait until 8:30 that night to open the call. I'm not going to lie, I was veerrryyy tempted to open it before anyone got home. That's what I did when I got my acceptance letter to BYU. I locked myself in my bathroom and opened it by myself. But I couldn't do that this time so I headed over to Target, my favorite place to wander, and walked around for about an hour. I even drove the exact speed limit there and back (that is a rare occurrence) in hopes time would pass more quickly. Then I went to Panda and got dinner.

This is where we pick up on the Spain thing again. I ate my Panda bowl with chow mein and orange chicken (duh) and carefully selected my fortune cookie. I opened it up and this is what I saw:

 I obviously give fortune cookies too much credit, but I am crossing the Rio Grande. That counts, right?

I KNOW, RIGHT?! Spain. The fortune cookie had spoken. Of course, everyone had to remind me that fortune cookies aren't real and I would probably be crossing The Great Salt Lake. Whatever people, I believe in them. Unless they say "you have a great personality and lots of friends." Well thanks, that was nice of you but I already knew that and that's not a fortune.

After what felt like an eternity, Emily got home from work and I was ready. With 4 phones on my lap, one ipad with facetime and 13 people gathered 'round, I opened it and read:

Dear Sister Durham,
You are hearby called to serve as a missionary of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You are assigned to labor in the Mexico Cuernavaca mission. *cue tears*

I get to serve in the same country as my father and grandfather. I get to learn the Spanish language. I get to serve the Lord and His beloved Mexican people. I wouldn't have it any other way.

You know, as I've gone through this whole process of deciding, waiting, and now preparing to go, I have come to know more than ever before that my Heavenly Father knows me perfectly. He hears my prayers and takes into account my desires. He knows what's best. He knows that Mexico needs me and that I need Mexico.

This hermana is going to Mexico!!


  1. Oh, this makes me cry!! So excited and happy for my daughter, Kylie!

  2. I just love this picture! So happy for you