Light the MTC

Hey fam!
So my Auntie Wea, my cousin Maija, and I created this super cool booklet to help you #lighttheworld this holiday season. I am SUPER EXCITED about it and wanted to share it with all of you.
As y'all know, I will soon be leaving on my mission to Argentina. Before I leave the country, however, I will spend six weeks training at the Missionary Training Center in Provo. There, I will *hopefully* learn to speak Spanish and teach others about the gospel of Jesus Christ. I'm super pumped! Since I'll be there for Christmas, I wanted to find a way that I could Light the World despite being in the MTC. I won't be able to participate in any of my family's service Christmas traditions, like baking cookies for friends and family, participating in local food drives, or inviting the missionaries over for Christmas dinner. In fact, I pretty much won't be able to leave the MTC much at all: I'll be hardcore training from dawn to dusk. So traditional community service just isn't going to work for me this year.
So, my aunt and cousin and I got thinking. How could I, as a missionary, light the world this Christmas?
After a super awesome brainstorming session involving lots of Didi Reese cookies (Side note: THEY ARE SO GOOD!) and paper, we came up with a booklet to help missionaries and everyone reflect on their own inner lights. After all, how can any of us light the world if we don't have light to offer to others in the first place?
The journal has prompts for each of the 25 days of service (learn more here). The prompts are designed to get you thinking about what light you have to offer the world. What specific set of life experiences, talents, and wisdoms do you have to offer the world?
College and missionary moms, this would be a GREAT thing to send to your missionaries and college kids. It's small, so it can fit easily into a package or big envelope, and it's the perfect thing to help make a child's Christmas meaningful when they are away from home. You can even send them a Christmas service package full of things that they may need to serve others, like thank you notes, candies, stamps, stationary, or basic toiletry items for the homeless. I know for me, I LOVE getting little journals or stationary items, as they are easy to pack and super useful.

You can download the journal here

Have fun lighting the world, and stay tuned for my Christmas at the MTC!

Adios, mis amigos

Well... this is happening. This is real. 

I AM GOING ON A MISSION! 

I don't know if I've ever been this excited (and nervous!) my whole life. It's finally starting to hit me. I'm going to a place I've never been to, to be with people I've never met, to speak a language I've never spoken, with an accent I've never heard. Swell.

Yet, despite all this, I. AM. SO. PUMPED! I know it will be the adventure of a lifetime. 

I've gotten all kinds of great advice from people as I've prepared to serve.I think the best advice I've gotten, however, is to just be myself. It took me actually becoming a missionary to realize that missionaries aren't some sort of genetically modified superhumans that are practically perfect in every way. In reality, we are literally just normal people. Nineteen and Twenty year old kids. We don't really know what we're doing, we still haven't quite figured out adulting yet, and we're pretty clueless when it comes to most things. But we're determined, and that's what matters. Our individual quirks, personalities, talents, and strengths, are what help make us successful. 

I don't know what my mission will be like. I can guess that it will be scary, hard, fun, joyful, wonderful, depressing, lonely, yummy, busy, terrifying, and brilliant all at once. But then, so is life. Hopefully, I will be able to see my mission through the same eyes I see my life: with childlike wonder, gratitude, and joy. 

I'm pretty sure I can be Sunshine Scatterer in Argentina too.  

Now on to business...

My MTC address (until like the middle of January, ish) is:

Sister Kaila Keolalani Douglass

JAN09 ARG-POS

2005 N 900 E Unit 145

Provo, UT 84602

My mission home address (you can always send stuff here, or I *think* I'll get an actual address)

Sister Kaila Keolalani Douglass

Argentina Posadas Mission 

1243 Córdoba esq Roque Saenz Peña 

3300 Posadas 

Misiones

Argentina

Pouch Mail Address (this basically means someone hand delivers the mail. You can send postcards or one page letters. It doesn't require foreign stamps, just first class postage. Google Pouch Mail Instructions to see more details). 

Sister Kaila Keolalani Douglass

Argentina Posadas Mission

POB 30150

Salt Lake City UT 84130-0150

My mom will be posting up my emails every so often on this blog, so feel free to visit this site to catch up on what I'm up to. Until then, may God Bless you all!

<3, the Sunshine Scatterer

aka Hermana Douglass 

The Lunch Lady

I'm pretty sure I have the best job in the whole wide world. Here's why:)

The Lunch Lady 

The pungent smell of the blacktop

Pairs with the earthy smell of woodchips

As I pass out the school lunches

And wish I worked somewhere with good tips.

I stand and watch a heated game

Of kid soccer play out

I watch the goalie block a corner kick

Before I hear a shout.

I turn, the Kindergarteners are racing 

To be the first to tattle

On the little boy who's insisting

On holding a dance battle  

I'm saved from solving that problem

By the ringing of the bell

Yet I know more problems will be coming

For the older ones must eat as well 

 

They like to act much cooler

When they tattle on their friends

Yet their tears still flow when their skinned knees

Prove beyond a Band-Aid's mend. 

The older ones like to play 

Group games on the field

Sharks and minnows is their favorite

As their daily play's revealed 

Sure, I gotta yell at them 

For climbing up the slides

And I have to have a whistle for 

When I find where trouble hides 

Yet, overall, these kids are great

They bring sunlight to my life

Their random hugs, smiles, and laughs 

Are the only tips I need for my strife. 

I hear one of them yell, "Hey teacher!" 

And I smile and think, well, someday soon 

I'll be filling my kids up with words 

Instead of forks and spoons 

For now, though, I turn with compassion 

To try and address their malady

I look at their big, open eyes and say  

You can call me the lunch lady

The When of Missionary Work

Everyone's been asking, when are you leaving?
Wow, guys, I know y'all have been itching to kick me out of California, but..
Just kidding:) I leave November 29th!

When you go on a mission, you have to choose an availability date. You can be called to report anytime on or after this date. When I first started my paperwork, I felt that November 1st was the day I should choose, so I put it down on my paperwork and forget all about it.
Finishing up my paperwork, however, ended up taking much longer than I expected. By the time I got around to submitting the final work, September was quickly bleeding into October. I was feeling a little anxious about having a report date in nearby November, and I wondered if I should change it. My stake president (a church leader helping me submit my paperwork) offered to change it for me, but asked why I would need the extra time. I looked at him and said, only half joking, "I need to shop for SHOES!" Whether or not my stake president had to hold back an eye roll at that comment, I'll never know, but he did say I could change the date later if I wanted to.
Soon afterwards, I stumbled across a scripture that should be familiar to any student of the Bible:

28 And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: 

29 And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.

32 (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things

-Matthew 6:28-29, 32

Well. Talk about a nice, comfortable, slap in the face.
After reading that scripture, I decided to just go forward in faith and figure that everything would work out with my November 1st availability. And it has. I have plenty of shoes, believe me.
Anyways, I'm just glad I didn't verbally mention the fact that I wanted to be around on November 2nd to watch a certain very important movie starring a very important Hemsworth. That comment would've won me some serious eye rolls. Luckily, even things like Thor have a way of working themselves out. 😉😉😉

The Where of Missionary Work

422 missions worldwide. 15 Missionary Training Centers. 0.24% chance of guessing right. 

354 days from decision to packet. 19 days between submitted and received. 5 hours from mailbox to open. 

Add anticipation, subtract fear, and the result? 

One very, very excited missionary! 

Before opening my mission call, I had family, friends, and random strangers guess where I was going to serve. Interestingly, most of the guesses were within the United States and Europe. 

Eight people guessed Salt Lake Temple Square alone, while another 3 or 4 guessed Utah in general. Hawaii had 6 guesses, and New York ASL speaking had quite a few guesses as well. The U.K.'s guessers lined up all the way into the Atlantic ocean, and the rest of Europe was equally crowded.

In contrast, other parts of the world were pretty empty. The Pacific islands had a few notes, Asia had some sparse sprinkles, and Africa had four. For the entire CONTINENT of South America, there were only 13 guesses, with 5 guesses tagged in Brazil. 

And yet, I've been called to serve in the Argentina Posadas Mission, of all places! Who would have ever thought?

On paper, it may seem that the mission doesn't fit. I speak only "California Spanish", a term my family uses to describe the minimal amount of Spanish comprehension one gains from growing up in SoCal. I've never lived outside of the country and only traveled outside the country for like 45 minutes on a cruise (If I had sneezed I'd have missed Ensenada). I'm slightly germophobic and don't like bugs, and I have almost no experience with humid head (I'll say it again: SoCal). I'm your classic millennial hippie eater who shops at Sprouts and loves two-ingredient peanut butter, veggie burgers, and kale quinoa salad (Stonefire grill has the best version!!!!). And despite all this, they've decided to send this naive, tall blonde white girl to the heart of South America.

...and I couldn't be happier!!! I know this is where my Father in Heaven would have me be. He'll help me do what I need to do and make up for what I lack. And as for the lack of peanut butter in Argentina, I'll just have to suck it up and eat more alfajores instead. 

I honestly really didn't care where I was called to serve. After all, I knew I'd be assigned to labor in a specific area but called to serve as a missionary of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The assignment may be intriguing, but the calling is divine. 

So, dear readers, I set forth to prepare to embark on the adventure of a lifetime. I am armed with the scriptures, Google translate, and spoonfuls of peanut butter. With God on my side, how can I fail?

A Story About Soles

I'm serving a mission because the gospel of Jesus Christ makes me so, so happy, I can't help but want to share it! I want everyone to have a chance to experience the joy that comes from knowing that families are forever, that our Heavenly Father loves us, and that Jesus Christ has made a way for us to repent. 

So, enjoy my little poem I wrote about why I want to serve a mission. :) 

A Story About Soles 

I'm made of shiny black leather,

Not quite cute, but functional

Flat with no heel

(For any sister missionary shoe worth her tag

Knows heels aren't for hiking)

I am straight-out-of-the-box, new, SO ready 

To tread on foreign soil 

through foreign territory.

Each day at 6:30, my day begins, I

Seek out fellow soles with a vigor 

That hides my clunkiness, that disguises

My shoe's awkward fit.

I follow a well-marked path, a path

Trailblazer by the Master Shoemaker

I know the destination, but only He

Can show me the way

So I follow in His footsteps, each of my steps

Not quite fitting into His, but that's '

Okay, because the Master Shoemaker 

Can always fix the size difference. 

Every day on the path

I pass soles and shoes of every shape and size. 

I see shoes in a hurry, shoes

Running, racing for an unmarked finish line. 

A nonexistent finished line 

I point out a better running trail, but they 

Aren't interested. So I move on

I see sharp soles, pointed soles

That have purposeful, no-nonsense steps

That don't have time for little old me

And my well-worn path

I see worn soles, smooth soles

That have seen places the world over

I stop to talk to them 

Before going on my way 

I see humble soles, ragged soles,

Riddled with holes, wanting some new feet

To follow

They join me on the path

And together, we talk to every sole we meet 

Day by day, we tread, 

Treading wear and tear into 

Our flimsy soles. 

At the end of our path, we stop

Examine ourselves

We realize that we're torn and broken 

And kind of smelly

Maybe not worth keeping...

But then

We come to the Master Shoemaker 

He smiles and says,

"I can fix you, for every shoe is worth keeping

And every soul is worth saving."

A Fellow Sunshine Scatterer

Hey, y'all! Haven't been on here for awhile because I've been working on my BYU Brigade blog. But I'm back, giving you a short little review on one of my new favorite books and movies. You can also find it on Goodreads! 

Love, Kennedy.
Really, that's all you can do after reading the book Kennedy's Hugs: love the girl the book is all about. Love her for loving people, loving the world, and loving life in a way that many of us will never experience. 
I never knew Kennedy, never heard of her story until I floated across her movie, Love, Kennedy, on Facebook. As soon as I heard the premise of it, as soon as I saw the trailer, I knew I had to see the movie. I just knew. 
But life got in the way. Work, school, and busy schedules prevented me from heading down to the theaters and buying myself a ticket. On the very last day it was in theaters in Provo, though, with no transportation available to me and no one to go with, I strapped on my track shoes and ran the 3.2 miles to the nearest theater. And boy, was it worth it. The movie was spectacular in every way, just like Kennedy was. 
Once I found out there was a book, I knew I needed it to read it. Crying, laughing, pondering, marveling were in store for me within its pages. Some of the stories in it were in the movie, while many others were brand new glimpses into the life of the Hansen family. All of it was raw, emotional, honest truth from the mouth of Kennedy's father about his little girl. 
Just read it. Kennedy's promises haven't proven false yet, and I'm sure you'll be touched by her story just as the rest of the world has been.

Boots to Fill

I think I'm turning into my mother.

Wow. I never thought those words would come out of my mouth. 

I remember that as a sloppily dressed, messy and quirky ten year old, I vowed to never be exactly like my mother, to never take naps, a to never like guacamole, and to never, ever, fall asleep during the opening credits of a movie. Famous. Last. Words.

My experience of being away at college has changed me. It started when I realized that I eat like my mom. Over the course of my mortal existence, my mom has become more and more of a health nut. The Early Days of Healthy Eating were rough (Pro Tip: don't put broccoli in smoothies), but over time, my mom became the master healthy eating chef she is today. Here at college, I found that I couldn't gain the (full) freshman fifteen because I couldn't escape the good habits I developed as teenager. My mom's voice was constantly reminding me to "go put some quinoa on your salad" or "do an egg white omelet instead," and I couldn't help but listen to these instructions. Turns out, I actually enjoy eating healthy and enjoy how healthy food makes me feel, both physically and mentally. I think I'm addicted. 

Speaking of addiction, I've also picked up my mom's love of running. We went and bought me new running clothes over Christmas break. My mother must've known that if anything could guilt me into exercising more, it would be her buying me new workout gear. So come second semester, I took to the road with my tunes and my track shoes and found that running relieved stress and boosted my self-confidence like nothing else could. 

I am also guilty of stealing my mom's fashion. I blame seven years of attending a uniformed elementary school for my disastrous fashion sense. I literally have no idea what matches, and I actually... kind of don't care. My mom is the one who does the shopping for jeans, new school clothes, new churches dresses, and even my senior prom wear. I have always been content with whatever she clothes me in. 

Sometimes, while at college, I catch little glimmers of my mom in everyday life. I hear something she says, like "fo what" or "baby doll", and I whip my head around to see her only to realize that those words came out of my mouth, not hers. Sometimes, I glance in the mirror and see her neatly plaited dutch braids and floral patterned dresses, but when I reach out to try and hug her, all I get is air. 

And sometimes, when I pull on my mom's pair of worn cowboy boots for church, I feel like I'm back in Bellflower, getting ready for 9:00 church, just like every Sunday. I think back to when I was a little kid and I vowed to never turn out like my mother, and I just laugh at my naivety. Looks like I'm bound to end up being just like her. My perspective now, however, has changed; I actually want people to see me and say, wow, you're just like your mom. You sound the same, act the same; same mannerism, same smile, same Basso party genes. And, oh, are those her cowboy boots that you're wearing? 

And I want to smile and say, yeah. It's some big boots to fill.