Today I pulled on jeans for the second to last time in 18 months.
I am essentially all packed.
I get to spend time with some of my favorite people.
Writing your own farewell talk is stressful and surreal.
I'd much rather teach a lesson than preach to a congregation.
I feel so unworthy and inadequate.
It's been hard to sleep at night--always restless with bad dreams.
Ammon is my hero.
Everything will be okay . . . more than okay.
I'm so excited and scared and nervous and happy.
I will be a missionary in less than 57 hours.
1 comment:
About the jeans thing-- you're wrong, I hope, unless you really want to wear a skirt for service projects and stuff like that.
On my p-days, we didn't have to wear proselytizing clothes. I wonder how it'll be in your mission.
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