Fifteen years ago, I was eighteen, about a month away from nineteen. I had just gotten out of the shower to get ready to work at the Shell gas station on the other end of town. I hadn't even finished getting dressed when my mom knocked on my bedroom door. I opened the door, and she was holding a large, white envelope, probably about 9" x 12". Emblazoned across the center was my full name: JOSEPH DANIEL SIMPER. I never use my full name. In fact, I sometimes forget that my first name is actually Joseph. In the upper left corner, printed on the envelope: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Office of the First Presidency.
I had received a call to serve for two years as a missionary for the Church. I knew it was coming, since I had had to apply for it, but seeing that envelope still felt surreal. I took the envelope from my mom, said, "thanks", and made as if to close the door. An exasperated "Joseph!" elicited a giggle from me, and then I tore it open...
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