My Dad—My Hero (Father’s Day Sacrament Meeting Talk)

I had the privilege of speaking in church on Father’s Day. I love and admire my dad!

The thing that impressed me the most when I was studying and preparing my talk was the way Apostle D. Todd Christofferson likened Jesus Christ’s teaching that “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). Elder Christofferson said:

Fathers manifest that love as they lay down their lives day by day, laboring in the service and support of their families.

I had always thought about Jesus’ quote in terms of being willing to die for someone. Elder Christofferson’s words helped me realize that it can also mean living for someone. Parents sacrifice so much for their children, and in that way, they are very Christlike.

The following is an approximate transcript of my talk yesterday:

I am honored and excited to speak about fathers today.

In my talk, I will be quoting parts of Apostle D. Todd Christofferson’s sermon entitled “Fathers,” which he gave in the April 2016 Church general conference. But first, I’d like to quote a paragraph from the Gospel Topics essay entitled “Family”:

The Lord has designated the family to be the basic unit of the Church and of society. As used in the scriptures, a family consists of a husband and wife, children, and sometimes other relatives living in the same house or under one family head. A family can also be a single person living alone, a single parent with children, or a husband and wife without children. …

fathers and mothers today are equal partners in the family.

One of the things Elder D. Todd Christofferson said in his talk was, “We believe that far from being superfluous, fathers are unique and irreplaceable.”

What does “superfluous” mean? It means “extra or unnecessary.” So, fathers are far from being extra or unnecessary—they are unique and irreplaceable.

Of course, we are all part of a Heavenly Family. Elder Christofferson said,

The role of father is of divine origin, beginning with a Father in Heaven and, in this mortal sphere, with Father Adam.

There are different types of fathers. There are married fathers, single fathers, adopted fathers, foster fathers, stepfathers. There are also men who don’t have children of their own but are still father figures. If there are children in your life who look up to you, you play a fatherly role.

According to Elder Christofferson, husband and father are “the highest of masculine roles.” 

Some of the characteristics I appreciate in my dad are:

1) He likes to have fun—When I was growing up, he’d take me on “daddy-daughter dates” all the time. One of my favorite memories is the time my best friend and I went go kart racing together with our dads. On the way home, my dad was still driving like a go kart driver. He took a corner a little too fast and wiped out a pedestrian crossing sign. He also ripped the muffler off the car, causing it to drag on the road. He and my friend’s dad found an old pair of jeans in the trunk and tied them around the muffler. Then my friend’s dad leaned out the window holding up the muffler while my dad drove home. The scariest part was getting over the railroad tracks, but we made it! After we dropped off my friend and her dad and pulled into our driveway, my dad turned around and looked at me. He gave a little laugh and said, “Jess, if I don’t laugh I’m going to cry, because I have to explain this to your mother.”

2) He prioritizes our family—My dad double majored in Russian and international relations. He’s never worked in that field. After his college graduation, he had an opportunity to do some work in Russia, but he turned it down because he wasn’t going to be able to bring his family along. To me, that’s an amazing example of sacrificing for us.

3) My dad cries easily—He cries when he gives me blessings, he cried when I told him we were expecting a baby girl, and he cries when he shares his feelings about the gospel.

4) Most important of all, I know my dad cares—When my brother had severe depression, he prayed to know what it was like so he could understand. He told me it felt like a thick, heavy, black feeling weighing on him. That experience helped him understand better what my brother was going through. Dad also has a gift for caring about other people; it comes naturally to him. He’s always been a good example to me of including others and talking to people I don’t know well at church.

If I had only one word to describe my dad, it would be “tender.”

Some characteristics I appreciate in my father-in-law are:

1) His sense of humor—He and his wife are always playing practical jokes on each other and some of them can get pretty elaborate. It’s pretty funny.

2) He’s hardworking—He always has a project and he’s always willing to help his children with their projects.

3) He’s also a crier, which I think is sweet. Now, if Clay is listening closely, no doubt he’s feeling guilty for NOT being a crier, so let me say clearly that it’s not necessary to cry for people to feel the sincerity of your testimony.

4) My father-in-law frequently tells his children he loves them and that he’s proud of them.

5) He diligently seeks opportunities to share his feelings about the gospel with his family, even the family members who are not currently participating in church.

My husband, Clayton, shares many of these same characteristics. That’s a big part of what attracted me to him and why I love him.

Other father figures in my life have been:

1) Rod Hill was one of my neighbors growing up. He was an ex-Marine and taught 6th grade. I thought he was the coolest “old” man ever.

2) Kris White was one of my Primary teachers. I think he gave me my first Book of Mormon. It had his testimony written in the front.

3) Brother Shock and Brother Southard were two of our family’s home teachers when I was growing up.

4) My grandfathers have been father figures to me.

5) I served a mission under two mission presidents, David Glazier and Bruno Vasquez. I look up to them a lot.

Ideally, one of a father’s defining traits is love.

In one of the Church’s Father’s Day tribute videos, someone says, “A dad means love that never goes away.”

I once heard someone say that you love what you sacrifice for and you sacrifice for what you love.

Elder Christofferson said:

Fatherhood requires sacrifice, but it is a source of incomparable satisfaction, even joy. Again, the ultimate model is our Heavenly Father, who so loved us, His spirit children, that He gave us His Only Begotten Son for our salvation and exaltation. Jesus said, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” Fathers manifest that love as they lay down their lives day by day, laboring in the service and support of their families.

Elder Christofferson went on to say:

Perhaps the most essential of a father’s work is to turn the hearts of his children to their Heavenly Father.

Certainly teaching the gospel is a shared duty between fathers and mothers, but the Lord is clear that He expects fathers to lead out in making it a high priority. … The Lord expects fathers to help shape their children, and children want and need a model.

My dad has always been a great role model for me. I mentioned one thing I love about my dad is how he puts our family first.

I think it’s safe to say that 2020 was a difficult year for everyone due to the COVID-19 pandemic. My family had an additional trial. In May 2020, my dad was hit by an impaired driver. It was a bad accident and he really should have died. Miraculously, he survived, although he did lose his left leg below the knee. He now has a prosthetic and suffers from chronic pain.

As he was recovering, one of his biggest concerns was to preserve his family relationships by not becoming bitter.

He and my mom have been extraordinary examples to me of forgiveness, trusting the Lord, leaning on Him for strength and guidance, and keeping an eternal perspective. My mom said when they made the decision to do the amputation, one thing that gave her a lot of comfort was the doctrine of the Resurrection. In the Resurrection, my dad will have a perfect body. Because of Jesus Christ, none of our physical imperfections are permanent.

My parents regularly share the things they’ve learned through this trial with youth groups and other groups.

I’d like to finish with my testimony that fathers really are unique and irreplaceable. I feel blessed to have wonderful father figures in my life. We also all have a loving, perfect Father in Heaven who does so much for us—much of which we probably don’t recognize. I’m grateful for my fathers.

In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Wrapped Around Her Little Finger

I saw it in the ultrasound just before the tech asked, “How does a little girl sound?” I was thinking, Is that a GIRL? I had convinced myself our second baby would be a boy because both of Clayton’s married brothers had two boys.

But after that initial jolt of surprise, the Spirit washed over me. I knew this was right, that God was sending us a precious girl for a reason.

In that joyful moment, my plans for an elaborate gender reveal evaporated. We called our parents as soon as we got out of the doctor’s office. Clayton’s parents took it in stride—his dad has correctly predicted the sex of all 11 of his grandchildren. My mom and sister, too, said they knew all along. My dad started to bawl. He said he’d been praying for a granddaughter.

Baby Girl, we were all wrapped around your little finger before you were even born. 🥰

My indomitable dad

It was Tuesday, May 26, 2020. Clayton and I had plans to babysit our toddler nephew Archer while his parents went to the gender reveal ultrasound of their next baby.

As we were getting ready to go, I got a text from my sister Melanie, informing me that our dad had been in an accident earlier that day and that our brother Graig, his wife, and a close friend were missing. (They went camping for Memorial Day weekend and weren't answering their phones for a while. Within hours, we figured out they weren't actually missing and everything was okay.)

It was a shock. Initially, I was more worried about Graig. I knew my mom and Aunt Connie were with my dad in the hospital, and that was a big comfort. I felt peace and knew he would be okay.

Looking back, maybe that's why I was surprised when he ended up losing his left leg. When I received the impression that everything would be okay, I think I assumed that life would go back to exactly the way it was before.

I knew from the text updates I was getting from Aunt Connie that Dad's accident was serious. In that initial emergency surgery, he lost all the blood in his body at least twice. But I didn't really understand how serious his injuries really were until I saw him on the hospital grounds.

Due to COVID-19 restrictions, he was only allowed two visitors (who were Mom and Aunt Connie), so we didn't get to see him for weeks. Because we didn't get to see him for a while, I was somewhat insulated from the severity of his pain and the challenges he faced while recovering (like MRSA). It enabled me to pretend that he wasn't as badly hurt as he was.

When I finally did see him on June 12, I was a little shocked at how pale and thin he looked. His skin was tissue paper soft.

Still, I held out hope that Dad would make a complete recovery. He was my dad, after all. Invincible. Indomitable.

It was another shock when my mom called later that day to say she and Dad were seriously considering amputation. Clayton and I were on our way to a peaceful, remote reservoir for an overnight camping trip. My first reaction was, "What? But everything was supposed to be okay!"

My next thoughts were, "Mom says she and Dad have prayed about this and they feel it's the right decision. I trust them. I'll support them."

As I had those thoughts that night in the campground, I again felt peace wash over me. And I realized that even though our lives--especially my parents'--weren't ever going to be the same as before Dad's accident, everything would still be okay.

My dad may not be invincible physically. But he is indomitable. His reaction to becoming an amputee, and his frank forgiveness of the driver who hit him, continue to amaze and inspire me. And I'm not alone; I'm positive that he inspires many other people too. As does my mom, who has shown incredible faith and resilience throughout this entire trial. I'm a lucky daughter.

Why I believe in God

For the past several months, I've been reflecting on my beliefs. I grew up in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. For a long time, I went to church because my parents did. In my early teenage years, I decided if I was going to continue going to church, I'd better learn for myself whether it was true. So I read the scriptures, especially the Book of Mormon, and prayed. I started paying more attention to what was being taught in church, and found it was helpful and applicable to my daily life. I kept going to church.

When I moved away for college, my faith wavered again. In this new environment, my parents weren't around to remind me to read my scriptures and say my prayers. Not all my roommates went to church, and I learned it takes a lot of courage and determination to attend on your own. I did my best to keep up the habits I'd formed in childhood. I gained a better understanding that one does not attend church to hang out with friends; one attends church to get closer to God. I kept going to church.

On my mission, I was immersed 24/7 in church things. My companion and I dedicated two hours each day to scripture study. We prayed constantly. We shared our beliefs constantly. I felt the Spirit testify of our words.

And yet, even still my faith was not perfect. It wavered every time an investigator or less-active member asked the hard questions. Most of them were "why" questions: "If God really exists, why does He allow bad things to happen to good people?" "If God really loves everyone unconditionally, why do we have to follow the commandments to be saved in the kingdom of heaven?" "Why do you say there's only one true church - don't we all worship the same God?"

I studied. I prayed. I had deep discussions with my mission companions. I learned I did not have all the answers. But the amount of things I did know far exceeded the amount of things I did not know. I knew God was real. I knew He loved me. And I knew that through the grace of Jesus Christ, everything would work out. As the saying goes: Because of Jesus Christ, all bad things are temporary and all good things are eternal. Additionally, one day we will have all the answers.

Long story short...I kept going to church.

Last Sunday was Palm Sunday. The first day of the last week of Jesus' mortal life. As I sat in church, my thoughts turned again to self reflection. Why do I believe in God?

I pondered the experiences I've had with prayer and scripture study. I thought about my mission. Then I realized the answer to my question could be explained much more simply than by going through all that.

I believe in God because of the Spirit. I have felt the Holy Spirit testify to me, soul to soul, on many occasions that God exists, and that He loves His children. The late prophet Harold B. Lee once said:

I bear you my testimony that I know the Savior lives, that the most powerful witness you can have that He lives comes when the power of the Holy Spirit bears witness to your soul that He does live. More powerful than sight, more powerful than walking and talking with Him, is that witness of the Spirit... ("Chapter 5: Walking in the Light of Testimony." TEACHINGS OF PRESIDENTS OF THE CHURCH: HAROLD B. LEE. Salt Lake City: Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 2000. 37-46. Print.)

Easter is approaching. It's one of my favorite holidays because of the hope it instills in me. Jesus suffered greatly during His last week of life, but He overcame it all. His perfect example of obedience and faith are inspiring, and His sacrifices in Gesthemane and at Golgotha enable me - and all mankind - to be forgiven for our past mistakes and become better disciples. They also enable me - and all mankind - to one day live again as resurrected beings.

And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. (Revelation 21:4)

Hallelujah!

Five weird things about coming home

Well, I'm home. In total, the plane ride was about seven hours. I landed in Salt Lake Thursday night at about 4:30 pm. As I neared the escalator that takes you down to the luggage area, I peeked around the corner to see if I could see my family and heard my mom yell, "There she is!" As I stepped off the escalator, my little sister (who is now taller than me) ran in front of the group to give me the first hug, then my mom came, then my dad grabbed on to me and started bawling. The moment was nothing like I had ever imagined it. I was happy, but it felt surreal, as if it weren't really happening. My brother hugged me next, we grabbed my suitcases, and they took me outside to the cold winter air. Less than four hours later, I was released as a full-time missionary. Taking off that plaque was like finally accepting the reality of coming home. El Salvador feels very far away.

There are some weird things about coming home...

#1: My house is bigger. It didn't actually get bigger, I'd just forgotten. It is a bit bigger than a typical house in El Salvador.
#2: My family is bigger. My siblings and cousins have grown a lot.
#3: The shower has hot water. The first time I took a shower at home, I had to re-figure out how to work the hot water.
#4: The toilet flushes. Not only that, but you don't have to throw the hygienic paper in the wastebasket.
#5: I can't speak in straight English. Other ex-missionaries have told me it will take a week or two to remember all my words in English again.

"We do not doubt our mothers knew it."

There's a picture of two stripling warriors hugging their mother out in the hallway by our classroom.  They did not doubt their mothers had testimonies.  I do not doubt my mother knows it, either.  I think about [my mom] every time I walk past that painting.  It's very appropriate that this particular mom is hugging two warriors, don't you think?  Right now, that scene seems like a goodbye, but in a couple of years, it could easily be a homecoming.

Set apart

One of the things that sets The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is our belief that we have priesthood authority from God. Priesthood is God's power on earth, and when someone has the proper authority to use it, he can do amazing things. Every time an ordinance is performed, such as a baptism, confirmation, temple endowment, or temple marriage, it is done through the holy priesthood of God. The priesthood is also used to bless the sacrament each week; dedicate sacred buildings; bless individuals with health, strength or comfort (upon request); and to "set apart" people with callings. Whenever a member of the Church accepts a calling, say for example, as a family history specialist or a full-time missionary, they are given a blessing conferring on them the keys and authority to perform that calling.

My brother and I were set apart by the stake president of our home stake about six hours ago, which makes us official. Soon we'll be on our way to the Mexico Missionary Training Center, ready to begin our six-week missionary boot camp of full-time Spanish and gospel study.

I am so excited! I'm ready to go to work. From this moment forward, my mom will take over my blog, and the next post she publishes will be from Mexico City!

(pictures added by Mom)

 It was nice our whole family could be there with Jessica's Grandma and Grandpa Anderson and our exchange student, Ai.

President Lefler set Jessica apart with the help of her Dad, a stake clerk, Graigry, and Grandpa Anderson.

Walking home from the stake center.

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 perfect day in California

I got to see my Draper family a couple weeks ago when Mom, sister Mel, super awesome friend Jennifer and I took a road trip over Memorial Day weekend. Jennifer's parents let us stay with them for a few days and treated us really well. I love Jen's family!

My "perfect day" was Saturday. It started with biscuits and gravy, continued with a trip to the Sacramento LDS temple and Nathaniel's baptism, and finished with fun at the park by the Drapers' and homemade Mexican food. (Jennifer's mom and dad are THE BEST cooks!)

Tyler's failed cooking attempt

Breaking news- I'm not the only "challenged" cook in the family!

Tyler obviously enjoying his "cookies and gravy"

It was a simple mistake, but HILARIOUS. He added WAY too much milk when making buttercream frosting and ended up with soup instead of frosting. We didn't have any more powdered sugar, so he decided to experiment and put melted marshmallows in it instead, but the marshmallows hardened as soon as he got them out of the microwave and after trying to add the two together, he was afraid he'd break Mom's mixer if he kept going. Next he tried mixing them in the blender until Mom came into the kitchen after a walk with Dad and said, "You're making frosting in my blender?!"... So he settled for pouring his sugar soup and cookies into a bowl and eating it with a fork.

When our Italian exchange student Agnese saw that, she freaked out. "That's gross, Tyler! Get away from me while you're eating that!"

Brilliant. hahaha

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.

Ghosts!

A quick funny story to finish off your day and mine: On the way to the bus stop this morning, Mom and I heard faint voices. (Ahem... I'm really tempted to say, "voices, ever so faint," but that's just not really my style) She double-, triple-, and quadruple-checked that the radio was turned off- but the voices continued, mystifying us both. They were quiet enough that if she hadn't said something, I might have thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me. One of those voices sounded awfully familiar...

"We have ghosts in the car," Mom joked to me after checking the radio yet again.

"At least they sound friendly," I replied just as one of the spirits laughed loudly. Hey, I laugh loudly...

I was still hearing voices an hour and a half later when I got off the bus and headed to my office. I searched through my backpack until I found my little digital recorder, which I use sometimes when I interview people. Sure enough, it was the source of the supernatural disembodied voices. It also explained why I recognized my own laugh.

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. :)