I never wanted to go on a mission.

It was about the furthest thing from my mind. I had other plans. I was going places. And an eighteen month break from reality–to serve the Lord–not one of them. I mean, I loved God. But I had things to do … important ones. And I felt like those things were more than enough to be worried about.

But the Lord’s plans often do not look a whole lot like ours … Happily, they’re better than ours. And even happier, He’s provided several ways for us to know what he would have us do.

One of them is through the words of a living prophet. This one’s pretty near and dear to my heart. I mean, I love that man! Because he was person God used to answer my prayers. The clearest answer I have ever received to a prayer came by way of that man, our prophet. Thomas S. Monson is an inspired man. The apostles are inspired men. The words they speak in general conference are absolutely the words that God would have us hear. He wants to direct our lives. And He will, IF we will allow it.


This story begins back in 2009. I was a sophomore at BYU. And I’d successfully (?) maneuvered my way through freshman year without going on a single date. So, I did the only reasonable thing and decided to start off my #foreveralone life early by taking mission prep.

I loved that class. Everything about it. Brother Livingston. Genius! Street contacting on campus. No problem. Reciting section 4. Like a boss. Singing “Called to Serve”. Brought tears to my eyes. I had mission fever. Bad. And there was no cure!

(Okay, so maybe there WAS a time when I wanted to serve.)

But I was 19. And 21 was a long way away.

(Remember when 2 years was a long time. Yeah, me neither.)

So I did the only natural thing.

I decided to forget about it.

I refocused on other priorities and moved on. I put in a few more years of school. Learned how to bake bread. Joined my first sports team. Hosted a weekly game night. Took up Spanish. Dabbled in animation. Published a newsletter. Started a blog. And headed my first project in the Adlab.

And before long, the #missiondecision crept back into the conversation–Or, to be more correct–crept into EVERY conversation. Like, no joke. I could not avoid it to save my life. Even if a mission wasn’t on MY mind. It WAS on the minds of everyone around me. I’m talking roommates, coworkers, home teachers, visiting teachers, my bishop, and every boy I tried to work it with.

There’s nothing more frustrating than trying to make things happen with a cute boy when all he wants to do is talk about his mission. Or worse, when he wants to try and convince YOU to go on a mission.

Talk about a blow to your self esteem.

I could not escape it.

Which made me less and less interested in going.

So, I don’t like to be told what to do.

I decided to finish up school. Do an internship and then figure things out from there.

First the internship. Okay. Let me level with you here. I applied to over 30 locations. Everything from prominent and prestigious ad agencies to no-name non-profits that could really use some help in their communications departments. I applied in state. Out of state. Over seas. Nothing. Not a dang thing!

Finally, in March I got a call back. It was from this little agency in Boston. I’d seen their work. I’d seen their space. I’d done my research. And I just knew they were the one. I needed to work there. So I busted my butt writing the perfect cover letter. I milked my portfolio for all it was worth, and probably, actually, a little more than it was worth, and sent in an application. Two days later I got a call. They’d liked what they’d seen so far and wanted to do an interview. They told me they’d be in touch via email to set something up.

That email never came.

So I contacted them. I mean, I’m not about to let something that good just slip away!


I tried again.

Still nothing.

For whatever reason I never was able to get back in contact with them.

So I did the only thing I could do. I called my mom, frustrated and upset. She gently reminded me that I could try for something back home. She’d been suggesting it from the start. But I didn’t want to go back home. I felt like that would be career suicide–I mean, when you think advertising, you don’t think Oklahoma–but I was getting desperate. So that night I put in three applications.

The next day I got a call.

A couple of weeks later I had my interview. And that afternoon, I had an internship. Nine hours a day, two days a week, May through August.

Well, that still left me with three days a week where I wasn’t doing much of anything. And midway through June all of that free time didn’t seem quite as appealing any more. So I sent out another round of applications.

The next day. Another call. Everything went really well until they asked about availability. I felt wrong about leaving my other internship for this one.

Even though this one paid.

Really well.

So I expressed that to them. I told them about the other internship and how I felt that I needed to see that through–that was the beginning of the end.

And because I didn’t get that job or any of the other ten I applied to, I quit applying. I told myself I’d try again at the end of the summer when I had depleted all of my savings (?) and finally had a degree …

So I spent time in the interim cleaning house, going through the attic and organizing the pantry for my parents–anything I could do to pick up an extra buck here or there. Anything I could do to feel a little less like a free loader and a little more like an actual person. And when I wasn’t doing that, I spent all of my free time with my new best friend, Netflix.

I led an admittedly pathetic existence.

I felt like a nothing. Like a nobody. I felt like a waste of space. And a waste of time. I felt entirely too dependent on everyone around me. And, unwilling to be an emotional burden as well, I kept to myself.

Unemployment does not look good on me.

I spent hours in prayer looking for answers and begging God to help me. I felt so lost. I needed a shove in the right direction. Something. Anything, to let me know that I wasn’t going it alone.

And then on a fateful day in October. President Thomas S. Monson got up to speak in General Conference, and changed my life. By direction from our Heavenly Father, he lowered the age requirements from missionary service.

I was 23. So this didn’t really affect me. I could have served. If I’d wanted to. At any time. But I didn’t want to. I didn’t need to until He made the change. I just sat there thinking to myself about all of those young ladies who’d be going out. Ready and willing to serve God. Unlike me. And something inside me changed. For the first time in a long time I felt a sense of purpose. I felt like there was something that I needed to do. I felt like those young girls needed me. So I made up my mind to go. Right then and there.

Immediately I rushed to my room, grabbed a notebook, and started crunching numbers. I could have enough saved by the following August to pay for my mission in full. But I knew I couldn’t wait that long. I needed to be out in the field by August. I knew that with every piece of my soul. I concluded that if I had at least 4 months at a decent job, I’d have done as much as I could to make things happen on my own, while still respecting the Lord’s wishes. And I knew if I did my best, the Lord would help me.

And He has. It’s been here on my mission that I’ve come to understand that God is right there with us. He knows the twists and turns down the road. He knows what lies ahead. He knows where we’ve been and where we are going to end up. And He is very willing to guide us if we will let him. He won’t force it. He never does. But he will shine a light for us to follow.

That light can take many forms.

If you can’t tell, I’m pretty partial to the words of the prophets. They are called and inspired of God to tell us what He would have us hear. But if we don’t listen. If we are unwilling to receive that counsel and make it part of our lives, then what does it profit us?

It doesn’t.

God gently suggested a mission to me loads of times. But I wouldn’t listen. He pretty overtly advised it on at least three separate occasions. But because I was unwilling to hear and even more unwilling to change, all of that counsel fell on deaf ears. God had to move heaven and earth to get me an answer to my prayers. So I KNOW that He can direct some one of the speakers in General Conference to get you the answers you need. And He will.

So watch General Conference. Just do it! And listen. Really listen. God’s got a talk with your name on it. He’s got an answer to your prayers. And if you’re willing to let Him, He will change your life.


Today I made a wish and floated it across a lake.

Today is Diwali.That means that tonight at the Krishna Temple they celebrate the new year.  

Which I like.

Cause I’m pretty much done with this one.

But anyway.  We got there at eight.  So just in time to see the final bit of Indian dancing and float lamps across the lake as the fireworks were starting.  Bethanie and I made our way through the crowd of people to get our little lamps.  They were really just bits of wax on leaves with a wick through the center.  We made our way round the lake to a secluded spot and thought of wishes before ever so gently placing our heart-shaped leaves into the water.

Bethanie’s died.

So her wish probably won’t come true.

I guess her year can’t get any worse . . .

And this year’s Halloween costume winner is . . .

So BYU is pretty legit.  I know this because there is nowhere else in this world that I would find myself running smack dab into the Koolaid Man.


But anyhow here’s my list of the top ten costumes spotted on campus this year:

10. Phantom of the Opera
9. Robin Hood . . . on a bike!
8. Facebook Page
7. Backpack from Dora the Explorer
6. Man in a Kilt
5. Viking
4. Link (I saw two of those, one on her way out of class and another bagging my groceries at Macey’s)
3. Perry the Platypus
2. Koolaid Man

And the top costume spotted on campus this year is . . .

1.  The Sexy Sax man: So I’m just sitting in my religion class . . . chilling.  

Getting my spirit on when all of a sudden I hear George Michael’s dulcet tones.  I turn around and there’s this man sporting the nastiest wig I’ve ever seen and the most wicked awesome sax ever just jamming out.


For like two minutes.

And because Brother Judd is awesome . . . he just let him go.

Made my entire life.

It was like this . . . only in a religion class . . . at BYU.

171. Go to the Gym

Once upon a time, there was a little girl.  And she was really awesome and everyone loved her.

And she was me.

And this little girl determined that if she wanted to get her fitness on, she needed to go to the gym.

So she arose ridiculously early one morning with the woman formerly known as Cate Mumford.  And they made the long trek to the Smith Fieldhouse.  Where they found the gym locked and closed up.

It was not okay.

So then they decided to just call it quits and take the long way home.

The end.

179. People Watch

Every Sunday night my roommates and I people watch.

This is because we live in a fishbowl.

This is really nice because we get to watch love unfold on the third floor.  This is also really nice because we get to watch a man on the first floor punch a pole now and again.

Then there are the less savory things: i.e. midnight make-out.

Its always entertaining.

As long as we have windows we don’t need a TV.

112. Water Balloon Fight

Hello.  My name is Launa Marie.  And I like water fights.

I’m not going to say that I love them more than anything . . . cause I don’t . . . but its pretty close.

So on Satuday night when Austin said, “Water fight.  Midnight.”, I said, “Ohhhh, I am so there!!”

Apparently he couldn’t wait, because the festivities started at 11:13.

I could tell because from the safety of my room I could hear what sounded like bombs hitting my front window.  One after another.  In a continuous fashion.

So being the adventurous girl that I am, I ventured out into my kitchen.  And there, across the way I could see Austin and Josh lobbing balloons over the basketball court and into my window.  When I turned my head in mock shock and surprise.  Austin gestured to me as if to say: what are you doing standing there in your kitchen when you could be out here being target practice for me.

Ya, that wasn’t about to happen.

Not even a little.

So Marysa and I formed a devious plan, the likes of which have never been seen.  We coaxed Josh over to our apartment under the pretense of forming an alliance.  And then when he knocked on our door (of course we weren’t going to leave it unlocked), SPLASH!! Two pitchers of water.  On his head.

It was EPIC!!

He argues that he soooo got me back, but that’s not how I see it.  This is my story and I’m sticking to it.

After that moment of sheer brilliance things got a little tricky.  It became a matter of discovering how to juggle two pitchers of water mid run.  And for someone so small as me . . . that is quite the feat.

Sometimes I did this with absolute precision and grace.  And other times I totally biffed it on a chair.

By the end of the evening, no one was dry.  All alliances had been broken and reforged and utterly crushed.

I’m not going to say that I approve of such actions, but I totally do.

50. Play Werewolves

I don’t know if there have ever been so many people in my house . . . . ever.  I mean in ALL of the eighty years that CP has stood, solidly (more or less) on the ground, I’m pretty sure this apartment has ever held so many people.

This is because I am a social catalyst (if you need a reference list I am more than willing to provide one–just saying).

So last Sunday I decided it was about time I knocked out one of the items on my list.  And one of them just happened to be playing an epic game of werewolves.

So that’s what I did.

I texted Brian Thrap.  Got him on board and set about to spreading the word.  So I grabbed my boots and my scooter and knocked down every door on the second floor of CP.  And after receiving mostly positive feedback I returned to my apartment feeling like quite the rock star.

Then I spread the word to thirty of my closest friends (proximity or otherwise) via text message.  

Then I waited.

At around nine o’clock they started filing in.  Once we had a good group of people we handed out paper and played Pictionary Telephone to get things warmed up.

The warm up only lasted about five minutes before the room was completely crowded.

And that’s when we decided that we were going to need a bigger avenue for this sort of undertaking.  So we adjourned to the lounge.

And, much to my surprise, people just kept coming.

So we decided to pass out the cards and get things going.  Brian, because he’s got such a way with it, acted as our narrator.  We started out with seven werewolves and 22 townspeople. Because that makes it more interesting.  Then we began.

It was insane.

It was SOOOO long.

After just one game, we agreed that we’d had enough of werewolves.  So we moved on to smurfing (some of us more than others).  All in all a really good experience.

1. It is very difficult to fit 30 people into one rather small room
2. If you want to get rid of some delicious baked goods all you have to do is host an epic game night (and)
3. Paul Handy smurfs more than other people