To Stay Or Not To Stay--It Wasn't Really A Question

Once upon a time, I didn't go on a mission.

The end.

JKLOL, that's not the end of this post. Unfortunately, how I found out that I didn't need to serve a mission was a much longer story.

After my friends got their mission calls, I went through a mini-crisis. I started to look around me and notice how many people I knew who were preparing to serve a mission of their own. "They're calling in the troops!" Amanda had said once, and I couldn't help but notice how true it was. Everyone around me who I had learned to call my friends were preparing to serve. And I felt so alone.

I began to agonize over whether or not God needed me where I was. What if He needed me somewhere else? What if *gulp* He needed me in the mission field? I was just starting to get comfortable where I was--how could I just leave everything behind me and serve a mission?

Suddenly, everything I had ever known about my life had been thrown out the window. I remember being little--like Sunbeam little--and feeling a wave of peace upon hearing that girls didn't need to serve. Now, though, it seemed like that might not be what my Heavenly Father wanted me to do. And I knew that above all, I wanted to do what my Heavenly Father wanted--no, needed--me to do.

So I asked.

And asked.

And asked.

And asked.

For weeks, I prayed, read my scriptures, fasted, poured over my patriarchal blessing, did everything I could to attempt to discover what my plan was. And over and over again, I received no answer.

At one point, I made the remark that I would NOT prepare to serve, and I got the weirdest feeling. I was so confused--was I supposed to prepare to serve a mission, but not actually go? Would I be going later? Nothing seemed to make any sense anymore.

Until I made the deal.

I made a deal with God. I made a deal that if I needed to go, I would have an undeniable "sign" that I needed to put all of my faith in the Lord and leave my earthly home for 18 months in order to help others prepare for their heavenly home for the rest of eternity. After explaining all the reasons I felt that serving a mission would be the wrong choice for me, I asked that if I was supposed to go that the bishop would, essentially, tell me that I needed to.

I never said it was a good deal. I only said it was fail proof.

Really though, I couldn't stop thinking about an experience one of my family members had that was extremely similar, and I figured that if the Lord needed me, an encore wouldn't be too much to ask for. It all made sense to me, and I knew that even though I felt really silly, God would come through for me.

And He did.

That next Sunday, I was terrified. I kept imagining the bishop walking up to me and explaining that he had a weird feeling that he needed to talk to me about missions and missionary work, and I knew that I didn't want to go, nor did I think I was able to adequately serve my Heavenly Father. But I was willing to go if I was needed.

Turns out, Heavenly Father was pretty sick of me asking when I already knew the answer.

The opening hymn that day was "I'll Go Where You Want Me To Go", a hymn that I had always liked, but never really thought about.

It may not be on the mountain height or over the stormy sea,
It may not be at the battle's front my Lord will have need of me.
But if, by a still, small voice he calls, to paths that I do not know,
I'll answer, dear Lord, with my hand in thine:
I'll go where you want me to go.

I had always considered these words to be about missionary work, a hymn that was always sung at farewells, along with "Called to Serve". But I had never considered that this hymn was about me.

I have no shame in admitting that by the word "height", I was already crying. And I wasn't able to finish the rest of the song because I was crying. I had already expected to receive an answer that day, but I never thought it would come in the form of a slap upside the head. The Lord doesn't need everyone out there; some people can do more good where they're already at.

And then, without a doubt, I knew that I was already where I could do the most good. And, thankfully, I've never again questioned God's judgment.

I guess some of us just have to take a bit of a beating before we can get God's message through our thick skulls.

Also aren't you sad that my blog wasn't super short in the beginning like you thought it was like this is super long.

~Kylie