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?