The Mish: 20 Years Later

"I was young and foolish then; I feel old and foolish now."
 -"Lucky Ball and Chain," They Might Be Giants

Twenty years ago today—March 8, 1995—was a Wednesday. A nervous and in many ways bewildered young man, his parents, and his siblings climbed into the family van and headed south on I-15. Along the way, they turned on the radio and tuned in to the funeral services for a prophet of God, Howard W. Hunter, who had passed away the previous Friday.

Arriving at their destination about an hour later, the family escorted the young man and his possessions, packed into two suitcases, inside the doors of the Provo MTC. After a brief send-off meeting, this young man, who had never lived away from home until now, bid farewell to his family for the next two years and walked through that doorway and stepped into the unknown.

That first day was like a strange dream. So, this is really it. Am I really a missionary now? he wondered. I don't feel like one. Yet here I am with wearing a suit and the nametag, living and studying and preparing with other missionaries.

Back in my day, though, you had to be 19 years old to do this if you were male or 21 years old if you were female.

Some days, you just don't forget. Ask me what happened this past Wednesday, though, and I couldn't tell you bubkes about it.

Twenty years? Wow. It feels unreal. In some ways, I'm still that same nervous, confused, and bewildered person. I'm definitely not so young nor able bodied anymore. In many ways, I'm still unsure about the future. I walk through that door into the unknown again and again each day.

One thing I know for certain: Just about every good thing that has happened to me in the two decades since that day has come as a result of that decision of choosing to serve a mission. And it will continue to bless my life for years to come.