On March 27, 2013 I got my mission call to Brazil. BRAZIL. Crazy! I've never even left the country. (That's a lie. One time my family traveled to Niagra Falls. I was 9 and had a sinus infection and my mom wheeled me in a wheel chair to Canada for 10 minutes-truestory)
On August 14, 2013 I entered the missionary training center to learn Portuguese. (That's what they speak in Brazil.) The books were in Portuguese. The singing was in Portuguese. Our teachers refused to speak English. It was INTENSive. We were getting truly PUMPED to head to Brazil. I even made up a rap in Portuguese! It was a HIT.
Unfortunately, all 9 of the missionaries in my district ended up getting re-assigned. Not one of us got our visa. In fact, every missionary in our BUILDING got reassigned. (Besides that one girl who was from Trinidad or something.) We knew this was a real possibility so we weren't too heartbroken, and when I found out I was going to TENNESSEE I was pretty jazzed! My mom was jazzed. My friend from Memphis was jazzed. Lots of jazz in this scenario. "Good!" I thought. "I'll go back to my roots! (grew up in Kentucky, but that's another story) I can serve here for a few months, practice the lessons in English, really solidify my testimony, and THEN head off to BRASIL!"
So in a plane I went. Nashville bound. Stars in my eyes. I was greeted warmly at the airport by some enthusiastic AP's. I handed out like 5 Book of Mormons while we waited for some people. "Man." I thought. "This is the place!" My heart was full. I felt like a kid again.
After the longest night of my life and an organized "shower chart" fiasco involving 22 Sisters at the mission home, I woke up ready to be assigned to the BEST area with the BEST companion.
I could write an entire blog post describing my first ever transfer meeting, but let's flash forward to THE moment. I opened my envelope and read my name. "Sister Culp. You have been assigned to labor in the Hopkinsville.........SPANISH? I think this is a mistake." I said, "NOPE!" My trainer said."You're gonna learn Spanish!" Every positive feeling I had left my body. I sat down in shock. "I don't even have a Libro de Mormon," I thought. What is happening. Is this real life? I was in a daze for weeks. I could barely speak English at this point let alone PortuSpanglish. It was a hot mess folks.
And thus began a theme for the rest of my mission. An incongruity of my expectations vs. Heavenly Father's expectations for myself. But you know what? He's ALWAYS RIGHT. I was MEANT to serve in a Spanish area for 6 weeks. I was MEANT to meet every single person I met there. I learned SO MUCH. And now I'm in another area I didn't expect to be in, still "waiting for my visa" and loving every minute of it. I have no idea what Heavenly Father has planned for me next, but I know it's going to be crazy, and I know I'm going to LOVE it.
Missions are crazy. But if you do them right, it will be the best decision you've ever made. I know it was mine. :)
Sister Emily Culp
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