Flashback Friday.

Finally, right? Oh. You haven't been waiting on pins and needles for a flashback Friday?? What's wrong with you? Nevermind. I haven't been waiting for one either. So we're even. Feel better? I sure do. I was sitting on my bed this afternoon reading a book and then decided I needed another blog post. But what to blog about? Hmmm. So I headed down to the basement and found a scrapbook. It happens to be my mission scrapbook. I served in the California Ventura Mission back in the early 90's. I didn't want to ever serve a mission. Whenever we would sing the song I Hope They Call Me On A Mission in Primary, I would cringe with fear that, out of the blue, I would be called on a mission. Duh. You have to ask to be called by sending an application. But I was young...
So I decided to go. I got my call to speak Spanish and serve in the Ventura Mission. I was excited. I cut my hair really short for some reason, too. As I went through my scrapbook, which I avoid, much like my mission journals, I got a stomach ache. I felt like I was going to hurl. You could say my mission wasn't a favorite time in my life. It was hard. I was sick. I didn't do well with the language for the first, oh, 15 months of the 18 month assignment. I had a crappy companion. Or two. Or... So as I went through my pictures I felt ill. I actually wouldn't change the fact that I went, though. My mission made me grow and mature and my testimony was challenged in a way nothing else in the world could challenge it. I am who I am because of the experiences I had in those 18 months.

Here I am when I was separating from my family in the MTC (Missionary Training Center). The dork dot clearly on my shoulder so all the more "seasoned" MTC missionaries could ridicule, etc.

And since all my pictures contain me (Fat and with really short hair.) and my name tag, which clearly would reveal too much info, I decided to share a fun picture from my last area. That is a Mexican Jesus playing basketball with some kids. It was a small Mexican town called La Colonia. We sisters could only go there during the day, and only with permission from our district leader. It was an awesome place. Scary, but awesome.

So there you go. My flashback of an experience so many years ago and so many stomach aches ago. I still haven't read my mission journals. After going through my pictures, I don't think I'll be doing it really soon, either.

Have an awesomely wonderful Independence Day tomorrow!