I'm Going to the Temple, and I Have Strep.

Going through the Temple for the first time to take out your own Endowment is a little bit daunting.  The LDS church has a Sunday School class called and devoted to "Temple Preparation," along with a neat little pamphlet called Preparing to Enter the Holy Temple and countless books and articles on the subject all of which have the soul purpose of, as one might imagine, preparing the members of the LDS Church to enter the Holy Temple.  Despite all of this literature on the subject one still goes in relatively blind as to what the experience will provide, other than the idea that it will be deeply meaningful, spiritual and above all, necessary for Salvation.

I attended "Temple Prep" and I read the neat little pamphlet and I read some of Elder Boyd K. Packer's book The Holy Temple, but I was still in the dark about what I should expect when the time came for me to take out my own Endowment.  This is not to say that I was scared of going to the temple, I was excited, but nervous at the idea of the unknown.  Katie, as always, went before me and learned the great mysteries of the Temple.  I asked her questions, but never asked for details, because I honestly didn't want to know what the mysteries of the Temple were until I was there, in that holy place, at the right time, because I knew (thanks to Elder Packer) that the things of the Temple are not secret, but sacred.

From the moment that I decided to put in my mission papers, Katie and I talked about how awesome it would be if she were my Escort through the temple for the first time.  It would have been undeniably adorable, but like all great relationships, the timing was wrong.  Katie left to begin her mission on March 20, 2013 and my Marlee Patrice, the sister I was glad I didn't have until I was old enough to appreciate her, came home from her mission March 21, 2013.  A sweet blessing to me, in losing one dear friend, I got another one back.  I flew out to Philadelphia to welcome Marlee off the plane and in the car ride back to her house, I asked if she would like to be my Escort through the Temple.  There was much squealing of delight.  On both ends.

I set up my appointment at the Temple, and Marlee flew out to Utah to get me all ready.  She helped me buy my Garments, something I would have been completely overwhelmed with on my own what with all the different sizing and fabrics and necklines and lengths--I am exhausted just thinking about it.  Marlee also came with me out to my Gma's house where the three of us poured over patterns and sewing machines and lace until we were cross-eyed making my Temple dress.  All was going smoothly until the night before I was supposed to take that last big step.

That night, I did not sleep. At all.  I was tossing and turning, worrying about the unfinished hem of my dress and if I was going to have enough time to get it done before I went to the Temple.  I was also feverish, cold one moment, hot the next, and my throat hurt something fierce.  In short, I felt like complete and utter crap.  I just wanted to spend all day in bed, but that was not in the cards for me on Wednesday April 17, 2013.

My mom came in and checked my temperature, my fever was mild, but I was surely sick.  There were so many things running through my head that I had to do, I had to finish my dress, I had to get ready, this was my big day and I didn't even want to leave my house.  Marlee made me some breakfast and was a devoted nurse all day.  I was able to get a blessing from my neighbor Nick, and felt noticeably better after a two hour nap.  Gma came all the way down from Bountiful with my dress and her sewing machine and finished my dress.  And I finally went to the doctor's office for the moment of truth.  Did I, or didn't I?

Well, as I am sure you have ascertained from the title of this post, I did.  I had strep on one of the biggest days of my life, up until this point.  My body rebels against me.  In high school, whenever I had an AP test, I woke up with a cold.  Finals week always starts with some kind of illness.  So of course, the day I am going through the Temple, I got strep.

Despite this...minor...set back, I still made it on time to the Temple and the prayer I had been saying all day, kept running though my head as I was tired, hungry and dehydrated sitting through my temple session "please Heavenly Father, please just help me make it through this upright," and he did.  I was in His house, surrounded by friends and family who loved me and I was still walking.

Valentines, Chimichurri and a Big Ole Envelope

Let me take you on a journey, back to when I was 14 years old: awkward, clad in braces and living it up at my first Especially For Youth camp...

I was in one of the lectures when the instructor asked, "who here, including girls, wants to serve a mission?"

I had never thought about it before, but my hand shot straight up in the air.  I wanted to serve a mission, who knew?  I did, after that fateful moment, so I started telling people.  It is not as though I went around from that day on shouting at random people on the street "hey you! I'm going to serve a mission!" But you know, I casually mentioned it to my parents, told some of my friends and would talk about it in seminary over the next several years.  Then in my senior year of high school my best friend Katie and I make the pact that we would put our mission papers in at the same time, so we will be apart from each other for as little time as possible.

All of these things were easy to say and do, it was easy to tell people I was going on a mission when I was 14-20 years old, because it was something that was so far away in the future, the real ramifications of my decision did not really hit me.  Those scarey, reality ridden thoughts were for later.  It was not until that fateful Saturday morning session of Conference October 6, 2012 when the missionary atom bomb was dropped by President Thomas S. Monson.  I could go on a mission, and I could go tomorrow if I got my poop together. I got scared.  Katie didn't.  That announcement rocked her world, she was going on and on about "what should I do?" and "should I finish out the academic school year?" and "should I finish my Italian minor before I go?" and all of these questions that I should have been asking myself, when in reality all I was thinking was "crap crap crap, holy freaking crap."

So Katie talked to her Bishop, got her physical and met with the Stake President and that was that.  I supported her all the way, but told her and my parents that I did not think I was going to do the whole "mission" thing anymore.  My parents were a little relieved, they no longer had to worry about losing their baby for 18 months to heaven knows where and Katie was supportive, but she never gave up the feeling that I would, indeed, follow her into the mission field.

A few weeks passed and my Ma and I went up to my Gma's ward to listen to the former Rome, Italy Mission President speak.  He talked about some of the miracles that happened in the building of the Rome temple and it was lovely. But the moment the person saying the closing prayer said "amen" I had this overwhelming feeling, like that summer day at EFY, that felt like "YOU'RE GOING ON A MISSION!!" and I was like "OKAY!"

I turned to my aunt Debbie and, with tears streaming down my face, said "Deb, I'm going on a mission," then I turned to my cousin Chloe and told her the same thing, I texted Katie to tell her, and by then, the news had reached my mom at the end of the pew and she shot her head out and looked at me with a slightly dazed expression and said "you're going on a mission?"

So like Katie before me, I talked to my Bishop, got my physical and met with the Stake President. My mission became a little more real.

A month or so passed, and Katie got her mission call: Milan, Italy.  If Katie could have chosen the mission she wanted to go to, it would have been Milan.  I was not surprised, I was (if I am honest) really jealous.  Katie was going to go to her first choice mission, something that simply does not happen.  It was the mission of dreams, the heart of Europe and all its culture and food and history.  Where would I go?  If Katie got to go to Italy, I would probably go to Cleveland, Ohio so the mission karma of the universe could be evened out. I kept telling myself that I would go anywhere, and I truly would, but it would be hard to compete with Italy when it came right down to it.

So I waited.  Then on Wednesday February 13, 2013 I came home expecting everything and got nothing.  It was the most disappointing moment of my life.  I had to call excited family members and tell them my call did not come, I called Katie, I prayed.

Then, the day of days. Valentines Day.  I come home and there is a big, white, church issued envelope in the mail with MY name on it.  My two friends Brad and Heather were over at my house because I was hosting a dinner that night for my single besties (Brad, Heather, Katie and my other best friend Josh) consisting of steak and homemade Chimichurri.  I bee-lined for the mail box, pulled out my beautiful white envelope and just started screaming and shaking and running around my house like a fool.  Family was called, Katie rushed over sooner than expected, my brother and his wife were Skyped in from California, my dad and step mom were iChatted in from the LA airport, by 7pm everyone was there and I could not wait any longer.

I was going on a mission, and I was going to the Philippines. Holy ish just got real.