The Story of Tori

“What are your plans after high school?”

If you had asked me that a year ago, I would’ve told you I was going to leave on a mission in September.

I was a devout attendee of my stake’s mission prep, and connected everything I learned in seminary, church, and my scripture study to my mission. I would randomly think of my mission, dream of my mission, picture myself on a mission, and it gave me butterflies and even sometimes brought me to tears, because I was that excited to be on such a spiritual adventure, to introduce people to the Savior who I knew and loved, and to do God’s work.

I began working on my mission papers in May. Graduation was approaching, which was something I’d always looked forward to, though it didn’t turn out exactly as I’d always imagined, seeing as I had E. coli for the two weeks prior, and was still feeling very ill, sitting in the Maverick Center in my cap and gown with the rest of my senior class.

I survived high school though!! I was on top of the world for about a day and a half until reality set in as I visited my doctor about E. coli, and we started to start talking about my mission physical exam.

Then I realized this was going to be a process. You see, I've lived most of my life in some level of physical discomfort. I have these phantom stomach problems that I've visited countless doctors for, but none have brought me lasting relief. Now, though, it was necessary to work out my digestive issues before I was away for a year an a half, eating strange food and experiencing new stresses, etc. Which brought me to the realization that maybe I’d be on my mission a few months later than I had planned, since we were trying to solve things that had never been solved before.

And that upset me. Because my mission had become such a driving force for me. I wanted it so bad, and I had felt so right about my plan to leave when I turned 19 in September. And now that plan wasn’t so secure. Now I’d have to leave that winter instead.

And for months after graduation, I was so sick, so overwhelmingly nauseous that I couldn’t go anywhere, and barely ate. I was feeling stuck. Stuck at home because I didn’t feel well, and stuck in life, because I couldn’t turn in my mission papers. I started having panic attacks again. I started being unable to sleep, losing interest in everything, pushing everyone around me away, having the lowest self esteem I’ve ever had, and feeling so doubtful about the gospel, because my righteous desires weren’t met, and because I didn’t feel the spirit much anymore. I often would lie in bed, feeling like I’d never be able to go on. I’d never find joy or confidence or health or fulfillment again. It really felt like I’d hit a wall. I thought I’d never be able to get past that low point in my life.

But I did. One day, three gorgeous and kind girls knocked on my door and told me to come to the young single adult ward. I pushed through the nausea and nervousness and went. And then I forced myself to go to every ward prayer, every family home evening, every munch and mingle, even an overnight camp. I don’t know what it is about the people in this ward, but they make me feel like it’s somewhere I belong. They made me feel like the church is good and right, and just that helped in many of my doubts.

And they made me feel healthier. As I began to push through my stress and sickness to be a part of my ward, I realized I could do so much more than I thought I was capable of. And so I started applying for jobs! And a lot of them didn’t work out, which crushed me a little bit inside again. Like, I got rejected by Deseret Book over the phone on my birthday while I was in a McDonald’s drive through, and that really freaking hurt. But then one job DID work out, and it’s more perfect than I ever could’ve imagined.

Selling cheese at Harmons is exactly like missionary work. You have to believe in what you’re giving to people, because cheese will bring joy into the lives of others. You must be motivated by the welfare of the souls of others, because good cheese is good for the soul. You have to have tasted it yourself, and you have to have an unfeigned care for anyone who crosses your path. You have to say hi to everyone, open up to strangers, answer tough questions sometimes, and lose yourself in the work.

With my new job, I was at last feeling like I was accomplishing something; making some progress in my life. However, a wave of depression returned as I visited my doctor one day, and she asked me what I was thinking when it came to my mission. I said, “My goal is to have my papers in this December. Is that possible?”

She met my eyes, with the most pitiful, apologetic, soul wrenching look on her face, and said, “Maybe you want to consider something other than a proselyting mission. I worry about reversing all the progress you’ve made on your health. Your desire to serve is great, but you have to take care of yourself too, hun.”

This left me stunned. It didn’t sink in until I was sitting in mission prep that Sunday and had the thought, “I’m not going to be on a mission in the next few months… What am I waiting for?” My teacher was telling a miraculous story from his mission and I was almost brought to tears as my heart was filled with the disappointment of my own mission, once again, being out of reach.

I also realized… I deferred my enrollment at Snow College for two years. That gave me 6 months to leave on a mission and 18 months of serving. But those 6 months are over in January. So it was seriously time to rethink things.

I prayed and prayed and prayed about what was right. Should I move down to Snow in January? But that’s too soon! And I don’t want to leave my job and ward. Should I wait until August? But that’s too far away! And that puts even more of a delay on my mission.

The answer to my prayers came as I was handing out samples of cheese one day and a woman in a missionary badge approached me. I told her I was planning on serving a mission, when she said, “I actually work downtown, looking at missionaries health forms and putting in my suggestion for where they should go that best suits their health needs.”

My jaw dropped. “It’s taken me forever to get my mission papers in because of physical and mental health problems!!” I opened up to her, “Now I’m thinking about maybe getting my associate’s degree first.”

And then she told me this incredible fact: “You know, there’s no age limit on sister missionaries. You can serve when you’re 18 or 21 or 23 or beyond.”

This brought me immeasurable peace. This kind Sister, whose name I can’t even remember, was literally an angel sent from God.

“What are your plans after high school?”

I never would have told you that I was even considering taking a gap year, but that’s what happened.

It’s been a long, weird rollercoaster of emotions, the likes of which this blog post can only scratch the surface, but I’m now at peace with the decision to work for the next while and save up for my education. I will not be serving a mission within the next few months, but in the next few years I most definitely will.

God has a plan for me, and it’s one that is SO different than what I had in mind for myself. But I trust Him now. And I’m happy.