When I was a teenager my parents took care of the local LDS missionaries. They invited the missionaries into our home, took care of their laundry, fed them, and watched over them on holidays. Consequently I was constantly watched over and cared for when I was a missionary. My companion and I always had food even when we had run out of money (we lived on less than $50 for 15 days). Church members gave us meals. Strangers in the market gave us fresh fruit. Random cab drivers took us one from one place to the next for free. Individuals invited us into their homes, giving us shade and clean cold water (my mission was close to the equator so it was hot all the time). I always knew that I was being watched over because of the choice my parents made to care for the missionaries. I never doubted that and knew I never had to worry.
The semester after my mission I lived with three of the coolest girls on the planet. One of which decided to leave us early to get married... (ahem.. Fillmore). We went wedding dress shopping with her at the local bridal shop where one of my dearest friends Dinahmite worked. There Fillmore found the dress of her dreams and it fit her perfectly. No alterations needed. That never happens in real life... except it did. Problem was, the money just wasn't there. So my roommates and I concocted a little plan to raise the money one Saturday so that we could buy the dress for her. See... she was out of town and it was the weekend of her birthday. We emptied a fishbowl, cut out a picture of her head, placed in a picture of the bridal gown and attached it to the front of the bowl. Then we went door to door asking for donations. We contacted family and friends who generously contributed to our fund. Miraculously at the end of the day we had the exact amount needed. We returned to the store where Dinahmite was holding the dress for us, purchased it, brought it home, hung it up in the see-through plastic bag in Fillmore's room and waited impatiently for her to get home. Her squeals of delight were music to our ears. The rest is history. One of my most favorite surprise gifts ever.
That is... until today. Only I wasn't on the giving end, I was on the receiving end. Let me back up just a bit... My mission president, Elder James B. Martino (a member of the Seventy), is coming to UT for the April conference and is coordinating a mission reunion. As part of that reunion he will be holding a special fireside for the former missionaries that served under him. In March it will be 10 years that I've been home from the mission. I'm forever grateful for the experience and privilege of serving. One of the best parts of being a missionary is sitting in zone conference and being taught by your mission president. I miss that. I miss my mission friends and the spirit of being a missionary and doing missionary work. The minute I found out about the reunion I began concocting a way to get there. Problem is money. I found tickets that were reasonably priced but the airport is almost 2 hours away.... and I had to wait until payday today to even purchase them.. no telling if they would even be available. In the meantime my mom had emailed me letting me know she had a lead on something and to hold off on purchasing the tickets. I was thinking she knew somebody who knew somebody. Needless to say I came home today to a package all wrapped in birthday paper. Confused I opened it up. My brother, who's been here visiting, seemed to know all about it but wouldn't give away the contents. As I opened up the first card it was a birthday greeting from all my family members, including grandparents. In the box I saw another card, along with homemade banana bread, snacks, gum, and other yummy treats. I opened up the second card only to find another birthday card ... only inside this was a special "ticket" informing me that a round trip ticket had been purchased just for me the for the weekend of conference and flying out of the local airport (the cost of said tickets was WAY above my pay grade). Tears instantly filled my eyes as I realized that all my family members had pulled together to give me a chance to go participate in something that meant so much to me... and they went above and beyond, sacrificing extra so that I could leave from an airport that is less than 20 minutes from my house. Karma.
I love my family. Each individual member holds a special place in my heart. They teach me. They bring happiness to my life. Thank you for this gift.
