Personal Narrative Final: Taking the Next Big Step

     Senior year of high school is all focused around graduating and asking what one another is going to

 do once the get into the “real world”...that and having a fling with as many girls as you can before it’s

all over.  The term “real world” was used a lot, not only senior year, but all throughout middle/high

school.  During class this term was used often too.  A student will ask, “Teacher?  Why do we have to

take economics? I am not going to be an economist.”
    
   “Because some of these lessons are used in the real world when you have to balance a checkbook, or

invest in the stock market, or open an IRA, etc.”  The teacher will explain...or they might say, “You

really won’t need this in the real world, but it’s part of the curriculum so we have to do it.”
   
     As graduation day drew near I often thought about the real world.  The way people talk about it,

you might think that colors suddenly take on a different hue.  I was expecting critical life decisions to

appear one after another.  After all growing up we have been told that this is the time where some of

our most important decisions are made.  I graduated...a month passed...two months...three. I came to

realize the band Bowling For Soup put it best when they said, “High school never ends”. 
  
     Everything seemed to be pretty much the same.  When I was in high school, my mother always

asked me when I got home, “So what did you do today?”
  
     “I woke up, went to class, went to after-school play rehearsal, practiced my singing and guitar,

skateboarded for a while, came home did a little homework, and played video games.”
   
     In college, my roommates and I would ask each other what classes we had and what we did that day

if we had nothing better to talk about.  “So Luke, How did your day go?” one of my roommate would

ask.
   
     “Well, I woke up, went to class, rehearsed monologues for auditions, practiced my singing and

guitar, skateboarded for a while, came back to my dorm, did a little homework, and played some video

games. You?”
   
     The only noticeable differences were:  I ate a lot more ramen, and drank an unhealthy amount of

Monsters.  The application process for my major was a long one, and I was told that it would be better

if I applied after my mission.  I had a job, but got less hours then I thought I would, and since I only

had one prerequisite for my major that was next to impossible to get into as a freshman, I mostly took

generals that I had little to no interest in.
   
     Everything I wanted to do---my “next step”---were all post-mission things, and there was almost

nothing I could do to prepare for them.  I graduated when I was 17, so I have had this long period of 

waiting until I could take my next step.  I watched my friends either go on their missions, or get nice

fancy jobs out of state, or get married in a few disturbing cases while I sat and waited until I could go

out into this real world and live my life.
   
     After two semesters of tedious classes and loosing my friends to jobs, missions, and marriage, I

moved back home.  Motivated by my parents and my delusion that this was the thing standing in the

way of me getting on with my life, I applied for my mission.  Through the process of applying, I had

many talks with my bishop, went to my ward’s Youth Conference, and studied the gospel.  As I put

more of my focus on the gospel and my mission, I realized that I was making progress in my life. 

With the help of my bishop and my ward’s youth, I began to see that my mission was not the thing I

had to get done to make my next step in life, but it was my next step.  I swiftly repented for my bad

mindset, and went to work reading the Book of Mormon, other scriptures, actually putting thought into

my prayers, and making other preparations for my mission.
   
     Wednesday came, and brought a manila envelope addressed to Elder Luke Ryan Crossman with it. 

Unfortunately Elder Crossman was in class when it came.  When we took our mid-class break, I swept

into the hallway plunged my hand into my pocket only to find nothing but pocket lint. Tension rising, I
went into the library to use their phone.
   
    “Hello mom? Did it come?”
  
    “Are you Elder Luke Ryan Crossman?”
  
    “Awesome! Is it thick or thin?”
   
    “How do you tell the difference? I have been trying to find how to find out the difference between

the local and foreign calls on google, but I think once someone opens their call they don’t care enough

to post it.”
   
    I returned home as quickly as I could so I could hold and caress my call until that evening when

some people were going to come to be with me when I open it.  That evening came, and I was finally

able to open my call.  When I opened it, I covered where I was going with my finger, so I wouldn’t see

it until I got to that part of the letter.  I did however see the top of the first letter; I thought it was an E. 

My first thought was Eugene Oregon, and dread filled my soul.  Several people did comment later that

I looked crestfallen as I read the letter.  I would have gone, and I am sure I would learn to love the

people of Eugene...but I was thrilled when I removed my finger and saw that I was actually called to

the France Lyon mission.
   
    “We get to go to France to pick him up!” my mother yelled with excitement once I read it. 
   
    I learned the impotance of missionary work, and what an honor it is to go and do nothing but serve

the Lord for two full years.  I know that this is my next step in life, and that everything else I want to

happen will just have to wait until I have done this, and I am happy with that.