And Miles to Go Before We Sleep

One of my favorite parts of Maine was this picture. 

These are Steven's and Nick's (Steve's brother) mission shoes. Well, the last pair anyways. They wore these home from Brazil where they both served. Steve went to Manaus, Brazil. I asked him one time where that was and he showed me a picture of Brazil and asked me to point to the Amazon jungle. I did. Then he asked me to point to the middle of the Amazon jungle. I did. He then said that's where he served: the middle of the Amazon jungle where it is incredibly hot, humid they have spiders as big as your hand. I never get sick of hearing stories about his mission. And when I saw these shoes I fell in love with them. They are dusty and creased. Both have holes in the sides and toes and the bottoms are almost worn off. I saw the ocean, a famous lighthouse, beautiful sunsets and mounds of snow. While in Maine, I looked at hundreds of pictures and saw adorable decorations, but these two, dusty, dirty, creased and torn shoes were by far the most beautiful of all.

Having no older brothers, missions were not really a big part of my childhood. My second oldest sister, Holly, served a mission when I was in high school, and I was so curious about what she was doing in that little island. I am proud to say that I was most definitely her best pen pal. I loved her stories about her investigators and still remember many of them. Hers was my first experience with missions, and I will always respect her for flying off to another country to preach the Gospel.

I've never wanted to serve a mission. When I turned 21 I thought, "hey, I could serve a mission." I thought about it for a bit. I realized I wasn't near marriage, I wasn't doing much but school, so why not go? Why not? Because I don't want to. I would be a terrible missionary. I hate getting up early, I hate following routines and rules, and I don't particularly like walking up to strangers. Also, I don't fancy ginormous spiders. I love missions and those that serve them, but, honestly, they just aren't for me.

I have this skuzzy little brother whom I love very much. He just turned 14; that means in only 4 short years he could be shipping off to the middle of some jungle. For a long time that scared me, and I always hoped he wouldn't go. I know that is terrible. I actually talked to both Steve and Nick about this before Steve and I were ever together, and they both said I was crazy. They said missions are the hardest two years of their life, but also irreplaceable. I disagreed for a long time until I heard a talk by Elder Holland to the young men of the church commanding them to go! It was so powerful that in the short 10 minutes it took him to dominate from the pulpit, I was completely converted to missions. Years passed and I still strongly believe in missions.

I hope my brother does go. And I hope he gets shipped off to some jungle. It'll be good for him. And I hope my mother keeps the size 15 shoes he wears back, because no matter what else is in her house, they will be the most beautiful decoration she owns.