Going Home

I have a little bit of news. I know, I know. About time. But don't get your hopes up - no marriage yet. I'll let you know when I find a guy.

This story really begins about seven years ago when I first came to BYU. In one of my classes, I saw a flyer in a classroom about Teach For America. Before I even really knew what it was, I knew I had to be a part of it. It's hard to explain, really, but I just always knew I'd end up in Teach For America. Once I found out what it was all about, I was in. It's an incredible organization fighting for an incredible cause. Learn more at teachforamerica.org. Here's a quick video:



Later that year, I was trying to figure out what to major in and I asked my friends what kind of job they would imagine me doing. I don't know if she even remembers this, but my friend Kathleen said she could imagine me teaching at an inner-city high school. She probably didn't know it, but that really impacted me and I've thought about it a lot since then.

Fast forward a year, when I saw the movie Hardball for the first time. All Keanu Reeves jokes aside, this movie made a huge impact on me. If you aren't familiar with it, it's about a guy who, out of obligation, ends up coaching a little league baseball team in the Chicago projects. He hates it at first but then the kids end up trusting him and they form a bond. At the time, I was preparing to serve a mission for my church and I remember telling my roommate after watching that movie that I needed to serve a mission in the projects of Chicago. I felt such a strong desire to be in a place like that, helping these kids who grow up in terrible circumstances and have no other options simply because that's where they were born. Simply because they don't have anyone in their lives who has the time or capability to give them the tools they need to get themselves and their families out. They're not any less capable or intelligent than a child born in the suburbs; they just don't have the encouragement or tools they need to develop the way they could somewhere else. In some cases, it only takes one person to tell them they can do it and to give them the resources they need to succeed. I knew I could be that person.

A year later, I got my mission call. Not to Chicago. When I came home, my major path took me in a different direction and I made other plans, but I always had Teach For America in the back of my mind. I'm graduating next month, so I decided it was now or never. I began my Teach For America application a few months ago, and as deadlines came and I advanced through each level of interviews, nothing was a surprise to me. I wasn't nervous about the interviews or any of the very long application process, because I knew this is what I was supposed to do. I think I've always known.

Teach For America places teachers in about 50 cities throughout the United States. In your application, you can list 10 preferred cities and they do their best to place you in one of those cities. It's been a dream of mine to live in New York City since I don't even know when. Probably since I knew it existed. That was obviously my first choice, but I threw in a few other big cities (I'm definitely a city girl) and a few regions in the South, trying to avoid snow as much as possible. I'm pretty over winter.

Indianapolis was an option, but I never even considered putting that on my list. Sure, I'd love to be closer to my family and it's pretty cheap to live there, unlike most cities on my list. I just have never had any strong desire to return to Indiana. I've never felt like there was much there for me anymore, especially being single. The LDS population in general, especially the single scene, is pretty minimal in Indiana, so going there was pretty much a death wish for my marriage hopes.

The night before the application and preferences were due, I was praying and I honestly don't even think I was thinking about Teach For America at all. All of a sudden, a thought came to my mind that I should put Indianapolis on my list of preferred cities. I've been thinking a lot about my younger brother lately, and how badly I wish I could help him and be an influence for good in his life. He's 16, so it's time to start thinking about a mission and where to go to school and I want to be a voice pushing him in the right direction. I know he has my parents, but honestly who listens to their parents at 16? I just feel so helpless being so far away. So when that thought came into my mind, I thought of him. I'd be much closer to him and could develop a legitimate relationship with him. I'd also be close to my nieces and nephews who I love beyond words and whose lives I've missed so much of already. But then of course all my arguments flooded into my mind: What about a husband? If I can't find one in Provo, I'm not going to find one there. But then I thought: it only takes one and if Indiana is where I'm supposed to be, God can put a husband there for me just as easily as he can put one in Provo.

But what about my dream? What about New York? I want to be there so badly that it hurts sometimes. Even just seeing pictures of it makes my stomach flip. As I was thinking about this and arguing it back and forth in my mind, a very distinct impression came: Am I willing to give up my dream to save my family?

Yes. I would do anything to help them, including giving up my lifelong dream if that's what it takes.

So I changed my application. I left New York as a #1 choice, too, but I knew if I put Indianapolis at #1 as well, I'd be going there because, let's be honest, who wants to go to Indiana? If someone lists that as their most preferred region, they're going there for sure.

November 8th, I received an email saying I've been accepted to the 2012 Teach For America corps in Indianapolis, Indiana, teaching secondary English beginning next fall.

This means a permanent move out of Utah. This means leaving the very best friends I have ever known. This means going to a city with very little LDS marriage, or even friend, prospects. This means settling for a very unglamorous life.

But this also means being within minutes of my sister's family and within an hour of every single other person in my immediate family. This means being there for Thomas' football games and Micah's soccer games. This means being there for birthdays and holidays. This means seeing my nieces and nephews often enough that they remember who I am. This means being in Indianapolis for Peyton Manning's return, when the Colts start being good again. This means being in Indianapolis when the new temple is built and dedicated. This means being surrounded by people who I can share the gospel with. This means exercising my faith that I have an all-knowing Heavenly Father who knows better than I do and will always provide the very best for me if I try to follow His guidance.

I don't know if it means saving my family. I don't know if they even really need me. But maybe this means that I need them.

This means I'm going home.