Bun Head: The Story of My Mission Picture

Okay. This might sound like a completely stupid post, but honestly at the moment it was a big deal to me. The little details during the paperwork process were for some reason gigantic for me.

Let's go back to the day I had an interview with my stake president to finally submit my mission papers. I was then at BYU and it was a fairly cold night and I most likely had a long day of going to classes or doing laundry and homework or something. I got dressed and ready, put my hair in a nice braided bun, threw on my big black coat, and was off.

(Pre-interview because I was so excited. Wanted to show my mama.)

I get in there and everything is fine. Just waiting. Then one of his counselors, or someone else who worked in the stake, looks through my papers and stuff and mutters to himself hmmmm.

This was the picture.

Me: Uh, hmmm what?

Him: Oh it's just the background on your picture is really dark and I think they don't want that in the mission picture.

Me: Really? I mean, I saw it said a plain background and I thought a solid black curtain worked perfectly for that...

Him: Welll I dunnnno. If you submit it with this picture it might get sent back and then it would take a couple more weeks to re-submit everything over again.


*SECRET MENTAL BREAKDOWN*

What?! I literally had my roommates take pictures of me every Sunday for weeks, uploaded them, and then sent them to my mom to ask which one I should use. Guys may not care, but for us sisters, or me at least... that picture literally would be the face the General Authorities would be looking at. The face that would help determine where on this entire earth I would be sent for 18 months. This was NOT a small deal. And again, after preparing myself for the night I had mentally planned on submitting them TONIGHT. I had planned when my family was going to come up from California to Utah so they could be there with me while I opened it. I did NOT want to have it be re-submitted. I couldn't risk it.

Me: So what do we do?
Him: Oh, well I can take a picture right now with your phone. Come on, go stand against that wall.
Me: Oh my gosh. I'm wearing a bun. Not even a side bun or anything. A bun! I will look bald. I would NEVER have worn my hair like this or worn this outfit had I known I was going to take a picture!
Him: You look fine. Come on. (what a guy)
Me: Alright.

Little did he know I was dying inside. I don't know, but I plan things out so I can know what to expect. I like having things done and ready so I know what's going on. This wasn't what I wanted at all. I literally could feel my eyes get that initial glaze over them. I could have cried. I was pathetic. But I put on a strong face and acted like I didn't care.

*TAKES A PICTURE*

Him: How bout this? (it was COMPLETELY blurry)
Me: Oh, no. Can you take another one please?

*TAKES A PICTURE*

Him: Here. You look great in this one! (I didn't, but it was getting awkward, so I gave in)
Me: Not really, but it probably won't get any better. Just go for it.

Here it be.
The awkwardly-off-centered-black-coated-grey-t-shirted-bun-headed-picture in it's glory.

He printed it out. I had the interview. My papers were submitted. And that was that.

I literally stressed about it ridiculously thinking that that picture changed my mission's destiny or something. Like that picture would flaw my whole 18 months. Doom me to some place I didn't belong. My eyes burned as I stared at the image of myself in my phone trying to force myself to think it was a decent picture. It wasn't hideous or anything, but it just wasn't ideal. It wasn't right. It only looked worse the more I looked at it. I swallowed and tried to accept my miserable fate. There was nothing I could do about it. Whyyy did I wear my hair in a bun?! Whyyyy!?!?!

Two weeks later I got my call. Washington Federal Way it said. I cried joyful tears and it was perfect.

Afterwards I saw many other people's mission pictures that had all sorts of backgrounds: temples, trees, the beach. It made me think What the heck? A black curtain was too distracting?

Honestly, my papers probably wouldn't have been sent back. I don't know if I would be serving in a different area or not, but this funny little experience opened my eyes. Perhaps, this little event happened for a reason. I know many people regard their mission calls to be individual and perfect for themselves, which is awesome and totally true and I believe mine is for myself as well; however, I do not think we would each only be successful missionaries in that area ONLY. I think of it like marriage. There is more than one perfectly good candidate and it would be absolutely fine if you married any one of them. But you only choose one. You only fall in love with that one and because he's the one... he becomes perfect for you. Your mission call is perfect for you because that's what you're assigned. If you were assigned somewhere else, that mission would be perfect for you.

Washington Federal Way is perfect for me. I don't know what to expect, but I know that's where I need to be now. If it took my silly little freak out session over a stinkin' picture to get me there, well then I am grateful for that. Sometimes you just have to swallow your pride. There is no time to be vain. No time to worry about ourselves so much and complain and to have self pity. There is time only to be obedient, submit to the will of the Father, and be thankful for what you're blessed with.

As a sweet little reminder, I have my not so attractive black-coated, bun-headed picture on my missionary portal to remind me everyday... and after that, my ID card at the MTC. Hahaha! Life is wonderful and my bun-head shall live on! ;D