Octobers.

 The mountains are a canvas of all shades of red, yellow and orange. It smells like crisp leaves each morning and feels a bit chilly. We've made homemade Zuppa Tuscano soup, spaghetti squash, warm muffins and hot chocolate, just to name a few. It seems October is in full swing. I would never exclaim that October is my favourite month when we are enjoying blissful flower-filled May and June. But when we are actually here in the midst of October-I adore it. 

One thing that October does to me, however, is everyday seems like the perfect day to stay home with my wonderful Ryan. It's chilly enough to sip on something hot and talk all day long. In the meantime, we seized a few moments to visit a pumpkin patch. A man from our Church plants a huge patch of pumpkins and gives them for free to the community. He even had donuts and hot chocolate for us.

Ryan and I have been watching Anne of Green Gables lately. I've

been educating him of all things Anne. I think Anne said it best (like always), "I so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers." September is so busy, full of change and a stark contrast  from the summer months-especially in regards to daily to-dos. But October comes and the colours burst, seemingly saying to all of us: You did it. You made it through September! 

Small Talk.

I remember, as I approached 21, I always had something in the back of my mind, "Should I serve a mission? And when should I go?" In my church, women have the option to choose to serve a 1.5 year mission. It is voluntary and unpaid. I greatly admire the missionaries and the hard work that they do. And it is a great sacrifice. And I think it is a beautiful way to "give back" and serve Heavenly Father. But it is also not the only way to do so.

Age 21 in Rexburg, Idaho

Fast forward many years and here's one of the most common questions I hear when first meeting someone, 

"You must have been a great missionary. Where did you serve?"

In the past, it's always followed by me trying to find the words to explain a decision that is so very personal and dear to my heart; in short something that I wouldn't usually want to explain to a complete stranger. Then they will say, 

"Wait, you didn't serve a mission?"

Or even worse,

"What were you even doing then?"

I've attempted many responses, "I served an untraditional mission,"  or, "I feel like my mission is to be a teacher" or "I served in a small town in Northern Canada for my whole life." But all of those responses felt so strange to say. And would be followed by a blank stare and a quick change of subject. I know they were just trying to make small talk. That's all. But as soon as those questions are asked, the entire table goes silent and you just want to explain! But can't... I've realized that often times, others are not meaning to ask hard questions but often "life questions" are the easiest to think of on the spot. Sound familiar? Bless their hearts.

I took my "mission decision" very, very seriously. I attended the temple every week, prayed, fasted, read, read, read...but it just never felt right. I earned to be closer to God and I knew a mission would bring me on that path. But I knew my mission needed to be "untraditional," so to speak. But why? I wasn't sick. I was completely able bodied, ready to serve. But I felt like my mission was not as easy to figure out as turning in my mission application and being assigned to where I would serve. I'm not trying to say a traditional mission is easy by any means, but a traditional missionary knows where they will serve and for how long. I was almost envious of the clear assignment that was given to other women choosing to go on their missions. And how they could quickly say, "I served in Argentina!" when a stranger asked.

And there I was, hopelessly wishing to be a missionary. I wanted to "give back." I wanted to wear a missionary tag and teach what brought me so much happiness in my life. On a less serious note, I even wore a dress every day and  looked like a missionary already, most days. But I knew that Heavenly Father had a plan for me that was not so conventional. I knew it. And I knew that I couldn't change God's will for me. For some time, that made me very sad. I felt like I had the desire and also the skill set to be very successful as a missionary. Many of my peers also took their decision to go on a mission very seriously. But it was difficult to see so many other women just carelessly applying for their missions just because it "was an adventure"-this was especially the case when women could go on a mission at 19 rather than 21 in recent years. How is it that it was so easy for them to decide to go? Where was the constant weighing of the decision that I was making? I hope there were quiet times of prayer for each mission decision. It almost seemed like it was just something that women did these days. And it caused women who did not serve a mission to feel like they had to explain something that seemed almost foreign to others-actually deciding if it was God's will for them.

So, my 21 year old self decided to trust in His timing, always asking in my prayers who to serve and where exactly I needed to be to serve them. The results were miraculous, faith building and at times difficult. Looking back on the time, it is so very clear I needed to be exactly where I was serving in a way that He needed me to. There is no need to list the many, many reasons it was very evident that I was in fact serving my mission. I don't need to prove it to anyone, even myself. The experiences are there in my memory and my relationship with God increased 10 fold. 

I have seen countless friends go down the same road as myself. Wonderful, strong women who prayed earnestly and deeply wanted to "give back" to their Father in Heaven and could only see one way to do so that being a full-time traditional mission. Many have come to me for support as they wondered what their "mission" will look like and how they will answer the very questions I have so often heard. Many have told me in fear how others will assume something is wrong with them and that's why they didn't go. And that completely breaks my heart. And I realized how relevant it is to share my experience.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with your Spirt. And it doesn't matter how you answer those questions. Remember how oftentimes, people are just using those questions as a go-to small talk topic? My aunt told me once that they don't really care if you did or didn't go on your traditional mission. She's right. Not in a heartless way, but just in a absent-minded way. They just want something to talk about for the dinner party. But in your mind, their question brings up each time you have wrestled with the idea, feelings of inadequency and deeply hoping that you could go, too.

 Remember: 

It's between you and the Lord! It's between you and the Lord.  The details are intimate and special. And they don't need to be shared in such casual settings.

When you don't serve a mission, there is no celebration when you return home because the point is, your mission is different. You are still serving. There is no clear beginning or ending to celebrate with posters and balloons. There's no talk in church when you return home as you share beautiful faith building stories. But it is no less important. You have those stories, too, you know. And you wouldn't trade them for anything. You are still strong and wonderful. You know it and Heavenly Father does, too. He is proud of the service you have given.

And you know what, I still don't know how to answer those questions. It really just depends, case by case. Person by person. The key is to not let it bother you. Feel proud of all that you have done and the woman you have become. What a beautiful thing to know how to bring real questions to your God in prayer. And feel proud that Heavenly Father has trusted you in a plan that is too beautiful to possibly explain over a dinner table.  

Maybe just say,

"No, His plan was different for me. Could you pass the peas, please?"

And then smile. And carry on.

Supper.

Before I got married, I literally dreamed of cooking for my husband. It sounds silly. Or even a bit cliché. But I did. I have always loved hosting friends and family. Especially when it involves preparing a meal. I love having people leave feeling nourished, in whatever way that might be at the time. It's always been therapeutic for me. I thought it sounded dreamy to cook for some future wonderful man that I loved-every single night. But, something has surprised me.

I absolutely love cooking for him but also with him. It's the simple, little things that I adore. I love preparing something beautiful and healthy for us to eat. I love searching the grocery store together for a authentically delicious meal we have in mind and making grocery lists and meal plans. Or sifting through the cupboards and getting really creative. I look forward to stopping by a fresh fruit & vegetable stand on the way home from work only to find the most delicious, fresh, colorful ingredients. I love all of those little things. 

It's safe to say I married the most whimsical man there is. Last night, we ate our supper in our very tiny, cozy studio apartment. We talked about our days while we sat on our wildflower bedspread. Then to top off the evening, he came back from his run later that night and said, "Jos! A skunk was running beside me! And then later, a horse! And even a deer!" 

Thank goodness for evenings such as these and for Ryan's dish man hands that always seem to do the dishes one hundred times faster than mine. 

It's all quite dreamy.