First email from Mexico City

In this letter:

Jessica tells about her trip and safe arrival at the Mexico City MTC Jessica uses her Spanish language skills to rescue Graigry's suitcase from customs Watch for her next letter on Tuesday July 30th.

I had good intentions to write a long letter, but it`s going to take some getting used to this keyboard and I may get too frustrated to finish. I`ll do my best!

So I eventually stopped crying as we waited for our flight to Dallas and by midway to Dallas I recovered myself. I`m super excited to be here at the Me`xico CCM (Centro Capacitacion Misional) and everyone has been really nice. I haven`t found my compañera yet but right after I send this email off I go to the casa I`ve been assigned and I have a feeling I may find her there. Most of the people that flew into Mexico City with us had companions within the group (there were 59 of us! So many misioneros!) but mine wasn`t within the group so I haven`t found her yet. Her name is Hermana Broadhead but I don`t know any more than that.

We also met a lady on our flight to Dallas who was going home to Georgia after spending a week at Snowbird for a family reunion! She was a grandma; she said they stay at Iron Blossom every year, like we stay at the Cliff every year. Just by looking at her I could tell she was a member of the Church. I used to hear people say stuff like, `You could just tell who were members of the Church and who weren`t,` but until today I wasn`t sure how that could be. I think it was the light in her eyes. We had a good time talking to her.

Graig and I ate at a Popeye`s in the Dallas airport before catching our next flight. Yummy!

 

The whole plane from Dallas was full of missionaries headed to the Mexico City MTC

When we landed in Mexico City, all went smoothly until customs, where Graig accidentally left his big suitcase near the tables where they search your luggage. He didn`t realize he was missing it until everyone had already gone through customs and met two hermanos holding a "Mexico CCM" sign. We enlisted the help of Hermano Sanchez (I`m not sure how he`s affiliated with the CCM yet, but he`s very kind and I hope we see more of him), who doesn`t speak hardly a lick of English, and I explained in very broken Spanish that Graig had forgotten his bag in the customs area. Luckily Hermano Sanchez was very perceptive. :) He took Graig over to an airport official and they spent probably 20-30 minutes explaining the problem and talking the guy into letting Graig backtrack into the customs area to retrieve his bag. I felt very proud of myself for helping Graig make himself understood - although he actually didn`t do too badly on his own.

Les amo mucho. I really am glad to be here, although the caliber of tears shed in the airport this morning may have suggested otherwise. It still feels a little surreal, even though I have a name tag hanging from my lapel now and I`m IN MEXICO! but I`m determined to stick it out even when the reality of what I`ve done crashes down. haha I don`t think you can really know how leaving on a mission feels until you`re doing it. I definitely had no idea.

Looking forward to Spanish classes! I`ll keep that list for you and send it next week.

Con mucho amor (and some bewilderment),
Hermana Jessica Henrie

Oh, I almost forgot - so far I`ve met five other misioneros going to my mission! Three hermanas (including me) and three elders. I`m sure I`ll meet lots more in class!

 Arriving at the airport

 Walking to the security entrance

 Reality sinking in.

 One last family picture.

 Headed through the security maze.

One last glimpse of her.

What's in a farewell talk?

This talk was given in church Sunday, July 20.

I appreciate all the people who've come today to support Graig and I as we speak right before we leave on our missions to Honduras and El Salvador. It's a little scary to think Graig and I will be in another country in a few days - we fly to the Mexico MTC on Tuesday. But God has not given us the spirit of fear, but of faith, and if any of you are afraid of something in your future, I invite you to trust God to catch you as we each take our leaps of faith into the unknown.

I've wanted to serve a mission my whole life. I wanted it so much I sometimes questioned my true motivation for starting my papers. What if I was going for myself, for the chance to see new places and experience a new culture? I didn't want the foundation of my mission to be built on something as shaky as myself. I wanted to be built on Christ, so that when the winds of adversity come - and I've been assured they will - I wouldn't be tossed to and fro, but I would be able to stand strong and tall. As tall as I ever get, anyway.

I prayed to have the right motivation for going - which in my mind, means I'm going because I love the Lord and all His people. I prayed to know that my own motivations were unselfish. I was still struggling with this on the day I got my mission call. It took three weeks for me to get that letter, and let me tell you, it was the longest three weeks of my life. I didn't know this at the time, but my mom had been praying hard too. She asked the Lord to just confirm to me that wherever I was called was where God needed me to serve.

Both our prayers were definitely answered. When I read the words of my call: "Dear Sister Henrie, ... you are assigned to labor in the El Salvador San Salvador East Mission," the thought came to me: Duh, of course you'd be called to El Salvador. I guess that was my own spirit talking to me; I think I knew before I came to Earth that I would serve a mission in El Salvador.

The Holy Spirit connected with me too. Usually, the way I feel the Spirit is by feeling as if my whole body is electrified (Heavenly Father knows subtlety is lost on me), but this was more intense than I'd felt it before. A warmth exploded in my chest. I didn't come down from cloud nine for weeks after opening my call, and my BYU roommates will testify of that.

Because of this experience and many others, I know God answers prayers. I hope He'll answer another one today and guide me through the Spirit to say what somebody may need to hear.

The Spirit is an essential part of any missionary work, and when Bishop Faddis invited me to speak I asked if I could talk about personal revelation. He said, "Could you talk a little about preparing for a mission, too?"

The two actually go hand in hand, because in order to touch people's hearts and teach effectively, you need God to guide you by the Spirit - and you need to love them.

How do you feel the Spirit?
So, first up - how do you feel the Spirit? It talks to everyone differently, in the way each individual can best understand. I've already explained a little about how I know I'm feeling the Spirit when all the hairs on my arms stand up and I feel warmth course through my whole body. But sometimes it communicates with me in another way, too; the Spirit gives me clarity of thought, where my mind stays calm in potentially dangerous situations and somehow I know what to do. This has kept me out of serious trouble with my mother lots of different times in my childhood. Kiera could tell you - she was there for most of them, and I know she felt the same clarity of thought.

One time this happened was when I was babysitting my three siblings at home. We used to have this decorative box, about the size of a box of tissues, with candles in it. The box was full of pretty leaves and twigs and the candles were scented. Well, we had the candles going and I guess they'd burned pretty low because suddenly the leaves in the box caught fire!

It should have been a paralyzing situation because I wasn't very old, maybe 13, and I'm afraid of fire, but I wasn't paralyzed, and neither was my brother Graig. He immediately went to the sink and got a cup of water. I talked him out of dumping it on the fire right there because I had a thought that we should take it outside first. I didn't question the thought because it just felt natural, and so I got a pair of oven mitts and took the box outside to the back porch.

With the box safely on the porch, I backed up a safe distance and let Graig pour the water on it. But it didn't go out, it exploded!

I realized something I couldn't have known before - that this was a grease fire. You can't extinguish a grease fire with water, and if Graig had tried while it was still sitting on our kitchen table, we probably would have caught the table on fire. I was sure glad I had listened to the thought that told me to take the box outside!

How can I learn to recognize the Spirit?
It's taken me pretty much my whole life to learn how to recognize when the Spirit is speaking to me, and I think that's the case with most other people as well. It isn't always easy to discern your own thoughts from heavenly communication, but one thing that really helped me was by really trying to pay attention during church meetings. It's sometimes harder to feel the Spirit during the week with school and work distracting you, but it's fun to practice on Sundays when the only distraction is my own failure to concentrate on what's being said.

As I paid closer attention, I started to learn some things: the Spirit never fails to testify of truth, and because true doctrine is taught by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I was able to receive a personal witness of truth from the Holy Spirit during many lessons. The Spirit also suggested lots of changes I could make in my life to help myself feel closer to the Savior, or taught me more about a topic in an illuminating "lightbulb moment." Sometimes those teachings were unrelated to what was being said and were instead more about doctrinal questions I'd been thinking about.

How can I feel the Spirit more?
I was talking to my dad about how someone can feel the Spirit, and he said that having the pure love of Christ helps you to feel the Spirit. If you don't think you feel the Spirit, perform a service for someone. When you serve, the Spirit will tell you how much God loves that person. You will feel the Spirit more in your life.

"If you don't know how to be a missionary, but you have the pure love of Christ, you'll be fine," my dad said. "Pure love is loving people without reservation, despite what they may have done to you."

I know Graig and I will be okay on our missions because of the love we have learned in our family. Graig and I have also enjoyed all the opportunities we've had in the past to share our music with you, and we really appreciate all the service you've done for us - especially in the past couple months as we've been preparing to serve our missions.

Another tip for helping yourself know what the Spirit feels like is to ask God if He's there and if He loves you. The answer will always be YES! Listen for it. Feel for it.

Preparing to serve a mission
When my stake president interviewed me before submitting my missionary application, he asked me to prepare by beginning to act like a missionary right then. I thought to myself, I don't have a companion. I can't knock on doors all day. I'm go to school full time. I have a job. How can I act like a missionary right now?

But as I thought about it, I had a lightbulb moment where the task suddenly seemed simple. What do missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints do? They look for opportunities to serve others and for opportunities to share gospel teachings. I started to do the same thing, and I was amazed at how many missionary opportunities I had right here in Utah, the Mormon capital of the world. All of you can do the same thing: look for opportunities to serve or share every day. You don't need a formal mission call to act like a missionary!

A day in SLC

The Saturday before Pioneer Day found my family at the pioneer and mountain man camps set up outside the Energy Solutions Arena in Salt Lake City. We also went to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir concert that night.

 

Melanie learns to make a rag doll 

 

Practicing her lasso skills 

 

Graig and Tyler :) 

 

Ai (our Japanese exchange student) and Melanie 

 

The LDS Conference Center looked beautiful as always (taken before the concert started)

 

We were excited to see our cousin Collin, who's on an LDS mission in Salt Lake City! Read what his parents wrote about it here 

 

It's hard to do good night photography with a phone, but I had to try. The moon was bright and beautiful over the brightly lit temple, with a backdrop of deep blue sky

Catchup: Mission call filming, capitol building, and watercoloring

Recently, Graig and I were asked to dress in missionary attire and read our mission call letters while some guys from the Lehi South Stake (which is the local body of LDS Church members, composed of five or six ward congregations including mine) filmed us. The stake has been filming lots of mission calls lately and plans to compile them into a video of all/most of the missionaries from south Lehi.

It was very interesting to be the subject of the camera rather than the director of the camera. I'm excited to hear how this video project turns out. They won't release it until after Graig and I leave on our missions, but I'm sure Mom will write us about it when it's done. If the stake guys put it on YouTube, I'll ask Mom to post a link on this blog so you all can watch it.

Speaking of which, Graig and I leave next week. Wow!

I got to visit the Utah Capitol Building last Wednesday to request an apostille for my BCI clearance letter. I can't believe I forgot how beautiful that building is. I took some pictures just because.

Last but not least, I got to go watercoloring with Jennifer and her friend Gary on Saturday! We went to the BYU duck pond to paint, and I was amazed at the sheer number of ducks. There were some cute ducklings, too.

Oh... and a couple of my cousins sang at a big band concert two weeks ago. It was amazing! Ever since I took a jazz class at BYU, my taste in music has leaned more in that direction.

The new Space Center

The Christa McAuliffe Space Education Center (CMSEC) that I came to love in elementary school inspired three additional centers in Utah, two of which are practically brand-new. One is under construction at the Renaissance Academy in Lehi. The other is located at Stonehenge Center for the Arts in Pleasant Grove- to my knowledge, the first for-profit center to branch off from the CMSEC.

(In case you're interested, the third Utah center is located in Logan. These three centers are affiliated with the CMSEC, but each is managed and run as separate entities. For more information on the CMSEC's history, visit spacecamputah.org.)

Graig and I gave the for-profit Discovery Space Center a try recently. We booked a mission for our family the first Saturday in July in addition to reserving a friend mission last Saturday. From what we saw, the DSC is definitely still working out some bugs in its computer programs (but that was often true at the CMSEC too). Most important, the feeling was there- the feeling of excitement, of magic. The pressure to save the day. The euphoria that comes from just barely evading certain death. The deep satisfaction when each member of the crew plays an important role in completing the mission.

The DSC captured it, all of it. If you were willing to surrender yourself to the power of imagination, it was magic.

Flying on the UCS Endeavor

Brandon (chief engineer), Jennifer (tactical officer), Beth (communications officer), Graig (pilot), me (operations officer), Ashley (sensors officer), Sara (captain!) and Whitney (first officer)

The great passport adventure

After much trial and tribulation, Graig and I turned in our passport applications yesterday! Here's the story...

I don't know why Ridge Publishing shows up way in the boonies; I typed in the address three times and it still didn't fix it. It should be MUCH closer to the other green points, just west of the Provo post office.

Monday. 2 p.m. Graig calls me wanting to go to the travel office in the basement of the administration building and get passport pictures. I tell him I'm busy studying and I'd rather do it all after we get out of class at 4. He argues a little but not very hard. I see him in Mission Prep at 3, and as soon as class lets out we walk to the building and get our photos.

Graig filling out some last-minute details on his passport application

After we pay for our pictures, we gather our things and head to the post office in the basement of the Wilkinson Student Center. The lady at the desk says, "I'm sorry, we don't accept passport applications here. You'll have to go to the Provo post office on 95 West 100 South." We thank the lady and step outside.

I check my watch. It's about 4:10. I know that most government offices close at 5 and start trying to calculate whether Graig and I could get to the Provo post office before it closes.

"Isn't 100 South near the library?" Graig asks, apparently thinking along the same lines. "How far away is the Provo Library?"

"Not too far. It's only a few blocks away from campus," I tell him. "We might as well try to make it to the post office."

... Long story short, the Provo Library is NOT "only a few blocks away from campus," it's about THIRTEEN blocks away from campus. (Or, at least, it was via the route we took that day.) And the Provo Post Office is about seven blocks beyond that, right by the construction on the Provo Tabernacle. By the time we made it to the post office, it was around 5:10. I told Graig to pray that the post office would close late that day as we walked up to the door.

OPEN UNTIL 5:30 MONDAY THROUGH FRIDAY, the sign on the door read. Graig and I high-fived and went in. A second sign said, PASSPORTS: GO TO ROOM 2. We found Room 2, but on the door was yet another sign: PASSPORT APPLICATIONS NOT ACCEPTED AFTER 4:00.

Well. I hadn't just dragged my brother one hour and twenty city blocks to take "no" for an answer. I decided to see how serious the post office was about this rule, so I opened the door to Room 2. Immediately, the woman behind the desk yelled at me, "We closed an hour ago!" so I quickly shut the door and turned around with Graig on my heels.

We became more and more hungry as we began the long walk home. I remembered there was a Denny's Diner right next to Wyview on Freedom Boulevard, and we determined to stop and eat when we got there. Graigry had been doing all this walking in the hot sun in his black suit (we had to be in missionary attire for our photos), and he got really tired about three quarters of the way home. Whenever he thought he couldn't take another step, he would say aloud, "There are unlimited pancakes at Denny's. Think of Denny's. We're going to Denny's."

By the time we got to Denny's at 5:50ish, Graig was so happy he paid for both of our meals. I paid for dessert. The delicious food restored our good humor and we decided to go back to the post office the next morning when neither of us had class. Then we returned to our respective apartment complexes for the night.

Tuesday. 10 a.m. Graig and I meet on campus and begin walking to the Provo post office again. (This time, we left campus via the BYU tennis courts and Brick Oven, which was MUCH faster than the way we went before.) We make it to the post office at 10:50ish, well before the 4:00 deadline, and get in line. We then proceed to amuse ourselves for the next 20 minutes by playing games on our phones. When we're second and third in line, we stop that and start looking around, reading the posters on the walls. One poster happens to be a list of required materials for a passport application, and Graig and I realize...

We forgot to bring photocopies of our IDs! We have everything else: proof of U.S. citizenship, our filled-out applications, our original IDs, money - everything! Everything EXCEPT the PHOTOCOPIES of our IDs. Graig glances around the room and says, "I don't see a copy machine in here. Maybe there's one in the main area."

So we leave the line and wander out into the small lobby, looking for any indication that we might be able to get photocopies at the post office. There is none, so Graig pulls out his phone and Googles copy places.

"I've got one. Ridge Printing. It's only two blocks away," he said, and we left the post office, expecting to be back with our photocopies in 30 minutes tops. Unfortunately, when we got to Ridge Printing, we realized that's all it was - a print publishing shop. No photocopies. Graig got back on his phone.

"I found another one. We ought to be able to get photocopies from it. It's about three blocks from here."

Again, Graig led the way. We followed his Google Maps app to a slew of different auto shops, where we discovered that the copy place listed on Google didn't actually exist anymore. Again, Graig turned to his phone.

"Finally, here's a good one! There's an OfficeMax about five blocks from here. We can be 99 percent sure it exists and we can get copies from it!"

So we walked until we reached the freeway overpass, where a sign reading SIDEWALK CLOSED prompted me to stop. "I'm going to ask the people in one of these auto places where the nearest copy place is. I don't want to go over that," I said. So we stopped at one of the three auto places on that street corner and asked a man for directions.

"There's an OfficeMax and a Staples just over the overpass. You can't miss it," he said. I don't think he realized we were walking.

SO. It seemed there was nothing for it. Graig and I ignored the SIDEWALK CLOSED sign and hurried across that bridge, walking as close to the railing as we could while cars whizzed by us at 40 miles per hour. I've never been so happy to see an OfficeMax in my life. We went in, got our copies, walked out and decided we were NOT going to cross that overpass again if we could help it. Luckily, an alternative in the form of a UTA bus appeared in the distance and we spotted a stop right across the street. Graig paid for us both (I don't carry cash) and we got transfer tickets so we could catch the bus back to campus after we turned in our applications.

Five minutes later, we got off the bus and walked back to the Provo post office. It was about 11:40 at this point, and I said to Graig as we neared the front doors, "You know, it'd be just our luck if the passport guy took his lunch break right now."

I should have found some wood to knock on before we walked back to Room 2, because as soon as we opened the door to Room 2, the passport guy called to us, "Sorry, I'm about to go on lunch break. I'm only going to help the rest of the people that are in line right now. Come back at 1:30."

I don't think either of us even replied. We just turned and walked away. I started verbally complaining. "I can't believe this. We can't come back at 1:30; I have work and you have class. I guess we're going to have to come back here again, and I really don't want to."

The good thing about this public rant is one of the post people working at the main desk overheard me and called to us, "You know you can turn in passport applications at the county building on 100 East Center Street, right?"

No. No, we had not known that. I saw a faint glimmer of hope. "Thank you!"

The county building was only about three blocks from the post office. We quickly found the place we needed to go and the person we needed to talk to. We didn't even have to wait in line! Graig gave her all his application materials first, and the county lady said it looked good.

"That'll be $170 with the expedite fee," she said, but as Graig pulled out his card, she added, "I'm sorry, I can only accept checks."

IT'S A DANG GOOD THING I HAD BROUGHT MY CHECKBOOK, OR WE WOULD HAVE HAD TO COME BACK FOR PASSPORTS: TAKE THREE! (Thank you, still small voice that told me I might need it!)

I paid for Graig just as Graig's phone rang. He answered. "Hi Mom. No, we haven't turned in our applications yet. Long story. We're actually turning them in right now. Can I call you back?"

I turned in my application and fee and we left, feeling accomplished. Graig called Mom back just as we walked out into the sunshine. "Hi Mom - Oh! We're running!"

(I had just spotted the bus bearing down on a nearby stop and was booking it. I really wanted to be on this bus; by now it was 12:30ish and I was late for work.) We made it onto the bus and rode it back to campus. Graig called Mom again on the bus and told her the whole story.

I sure hope turning in my visa application won't be this crazy, although looking back on it, it was fun to wander the streets of Provo for hours with my brother and everything worked out. I think the buses in particular was God's way of cutting us a bit of a break. :)

Graig and I saw these fun signs while on our walking tour of Provo.

New year, new semester, new start

Everything feels new today: it's the big 2013 (meaning the world didn't end last month), a new start, and my last semester of school. Graduation with my bachelor's degree in journalism looms on the horizon, just four months away. Crazy, right?

I also got a new phone and an almost new alto saxophone this morning while running errands with my mom! I feel like I've accomplished a lot today already, and I am so excited to get home after work and play my sax!!! I'm far more excited about the saxophone than I am about the phone, although it's a pretty spiffy phone.

I love the beginning of each new year because it's easy to think of it as a fresh start. A clean slate. Opportunities and tragedies may both be in store, and I'm excited to see where life takes me.

We have yet to replace Ary in the apartment. Hopefully Ary will be able to sell her contract soon, because it's zero fun to have to pay rent to a place you don't live in anymore. On the upside, Sketti, Jennifer and I talked to her on Sunday, and she's doing great in Germany! She'll be working there for a year, which means I probably won't see her for three-ish years (after my mission).

Speaking of my mission, I'm almost ready to turn in my application to be a full-time missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Sister missionaries in our church typically serve wherever they're called for 18 months (the men are typically out for 24 months). My brother Graig will probably leave on his own mission about the same time I do.

Three steps to falling asleep almost anywhere but mostly geared towards public transportation

1. Always carry around something that could potentially be balled up into a pillow.
   • Whenever I'm traveling on public transportation, I usually have my backpack with me, where I almost always keep my thin black jacket- lightweight but with enough substance to create a comfortable barrier between my head and whatever metal bar or plastic corner it's resting on... as long as I position it so the zipper doesn't catch in my hair. On the rare occasion that I don't have anything unattached to myself that I can ball up, I use my arm, my sleeve, or my hair (and you thought I kept it long because I thought it was pretty. Heh heh heh).
2.  Wrap your legs or arms around the possessions you have with you so they don't get lost, forgotten or stolen.
3. Lean against the nearest solid object- if you're lucky, you have a window seat and can prop your elbow on the sill and rest your head on your palm. If you're unlucky, you're standing or sitting in a chair with no armrests- in the former case, experiment until you've found a secure position leaning against the handhold or your arm while it's holding the handhold. In case of the latter, simply slide down in your seat until the back of the chair is behind your head. (It's really uncomfortable to wake up after you've slept with your neck twisted funny, which is why you need support behind your head.)

That's it. My three-step guide to falling asleep almost anywhere (but mostly geared towards public transportation). My credentials for teaching this class include the fact that I took a nice, hour-and-a-half-long nap on my way to work this morning. Graduates of this program include my brother, Graig, who has since been known to fall asleep during his own violin concerts and right before he has to get up and give a talk in church.

A Disney sort of trip

When I woke up on Christmas morning and reached inside my stocking, I came out with a pretty standard balance of treats and practical items: an orange, some candy, a package of quarters to feed the washers and dryers at my apartment complex, postage stamps, and a small slip of paper with a note. It read, "Dear Jessica, please set aside a few days for us at the end of April to go on a family vacation to Disneyland. Love, Mom and Dad." There was a similar note in every kid's stocking. We were really excited at the thought of our first Disneyland trip (first for everyone but Graig). Melanie in particular seemed REALLY excited. We got three days total to spend in Disneyland and California Adventure, and to keep things short and sweet and to the point...

They didn't disappoint. :)