sister curtis here, hermana now. even though at this point i have yet to take a spanish class and just spent an entire spring living in paris and immersing myself in french. here's the thing, i remember being seven or something and thinking "thank heavens i'm not a boy because i don't have to go on a mission."

but, twelve years later, actually i do have to go on a mission. nobody ever told me to, my parents never even asked me about it. they let me come to that conclusion on my own. which was great because i've never been a huge fan of any conclusions that i don't come to on my own.

but somebody needs me in vancouver, canada. in british columbia. and they probably speak spanish. so i will speak spanish. i will wear a name-tag. i will give up friday nights and the jeep. i'll put off knowing how season 6 of grey's anatomy ended. i will move to a country i've never seen before, and that will be my last passport stamp for the next 18 months. i'll wear every skirt below my knee, and i will move in with a girl of whom i know nothing. except that she is there to do the same work as me. i will teach people. i will teach people about God.

it's not a church thing, it's not a checklist thing. it's just the idea that there are people who don't know that they can pray on the way to class and that there's no such thing as coincidences, honestly we're just stumbling about on maps we don't see. and i get to go do that in canada now, and i could not be more grateful.


love you all,
reags