June 5, 2013.
Today, I opened my call to serve as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I drove up with Ashley from Provo since I am currently going to spring semester at BYU. She had a dentist appointment up in Bountiful that day for her mission papers so she was headed that way anyway. She also wanted to be there while I opened my call. I spent the day in Cory’s pool since the idea of my call sitting on the counter at home unopened, unread was too much to handle. So I stayed away until 6 rolled around for me to open it. First, I was instructed to read everyone’s guesses out loud. Mom had had a dream the night before that I was going to Hartford, Connecticut so half the guesses were that. After, I gripped that white envelope and put all my strength and gave all my doubts and fears to the Lord who knew what this letter would say and where I’d spend the next 18 months of my life. Mom made me open it with this silly letter opener that she plans to have everyone open their calls with throughout the years. My hands were shaking so violently that it took so long for me to open it. I opened it and slid the book over the top so I couldn’t read it yet. I look up at my mom who had her legs crossed and was jumping up and down and smiling. “Dear Sister Saylin,” I read. The tears came. This was real. This was my call. It was finally my turn. I slid the book down one line and tried to keep my shaky voice working. “You are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” Pause. The next line would change my life. I read it before I could say it. Oh the tears. You could’ve heard a pin drop. For this moment only, I knew where I’d go and nobody else in that room did. It was a small moment where it was just me and the Lord. And oh, I knew it. I knew this was the place. How could I have ever thought it’d be anywhere else? “You are assigned to labor in the Honduras San Pedro Sula Mission.” The screams and explosion of woooooooaaahhhhs happened all around me. I looked right up at my momma. The woman who told me about her mission while we drove around and I sat in my car seat. The woman who raised me to know I could do this. The woman who taught me all that I knew. The woman who gave up the life she was living at age 38 and moved all 6 of her kids to Houston to serve the Lord. The woman who added one more to the family, no matter the price, during the mission, for the Lord. The woman who does everything and anything for the Lord happily. I smiled so big at her! Someone yelled when do you report??! I read “You should report to the Mexico Missionary Training Center…” everyone screamed. “on Wednesday, October 30, 2013.” Someone yelled, “in Spanish?!” “You should prepare to preach the gospel in the Spanish language.” Dad cried. He gave me the biggest hug. He was so emotional that he couldn’t even talk. But then he whispered in my ear. “I’m so proud of you.” Oh I cried. I’ll never forget the way it sounded.
So Honduras it is. And I couldn’t be happier.