To be, or not to be. That is the question.

How do you become a missionary? Everyone's paths are fairly different. My went the path or denial.
I vividly remember my emotional response when I was given a picture at a priesthood meeting. It was an inspirational photo and tagline given to us in an effort to help us remember to serve a mission following high school. My response was very direct; a stifled, scoffing laugh. Even at the age of twelve, I believed wholeheartedly that I would not be serving a mission. I don't know when it had begun, but I did NOT want to spend two years in a white shirt walking around in all sorts of weather trying to get people to hear me talk to them about the gospel. I didn't want to save the money for it. I didn't want to read all the scriptures in preparation for it. I didn't want to possibly learn a new language. I just didn't really want anything to do with it.
When I was a freshman in high school, my brother Brandon broke it to us that he would be serving a mission. A few months later, after a collection of family photos that included topless brother shots, we discovered that he would be freezing to death on and off in Samara, Russia.
He opened my eyes to what serving a mission really, truly meant. It would not be Brandon teaching people. It was about his willingness to turn his life over to God for two years. My brother's service would become a symbol of faith and trust in the Lord. He was willing to put off his own life for two years with the belief that everything would be better afterwards. I would have trouble denying that. I believe that we were able to find out the extent of his health issues because of his time in Russia, and his relationship was strengthened with both his family and his wife due to service. He has become more patient and willing to work for everything within his life, both traits developed in the mission field. My brother has become a better person is every aspect of his life because of the mission.
Even though he opened the door for me, I refused to walk through. I still attended church, went to early morning seminary, and prayed and read scriptures as my testimony grew. I dodged questions of serving a mission all through my senior year, a task made more difficult following my brother's return from service on a Monday night overtime victory, Packers over Denver. You remember the one. A beautiful passed dropped over the outstreched arms of the DB, Favre to Jennings, over 80 yards on the first play of... anyway.
At the time, I was looking forward to going to school and earning a degree in teaching. I wanted to teach high school and eventually college level history. I had been a Sunday school teacher, and everyone at church told me how talented I was at connecting with people and teaching. My best friend at church refused to go a Sunday without trying to convince me that I would be wasting my talents by not handing them over to God. For years, I was lightly and lovingly heckled to do my duty and serve the Lord. For years, I hid behind my enrollment at St. Norbert College, and my already being older than the norm. I believed that I was already doing my part by surrounding myself with people who asked me questions and I gave them answers. I felt I was already being a missionary.
When I cam home for Christmas break, 2010, I  did not know what I would go through; an all night study session for an Alum v. Active seminary Scripture Mastery competition. From the time we opened our scriptures to after we closed them, every scripture we came across was directed toward me by my friends as a sign from God and the Prophets exhorting me to drop my current doings and depart as soon as possible for my tour of duty under the care of Heavenly Father.
I scoffed at it all, but it was that night that I began to really think of the blessings of service. Many of the scriptures spoke on blessings related to fulfilling our callings in this world, uplifting ourselves, bringing souls to God,how those that are compelled are slothful and unrewarded, and the like. I began to read each of these scriptures with more care, and the next day (after completely destroying the active seminary students on 2 hours of review and even less sleep), I began to brain storm on serving a mission. I still decided that I was too far into school, and with the economy the way it is I need to get a job and save for my future, and I was too old and too ignorant in the gospel... same story as before.
Less than a month later, I volunteered to apply with A. That night I began to pray for guidance of my decision. I began to pray harder than before, and took my faith more seriously. I read scriptures more diligently, actually trying to learn the scriptures instead of simply reading them. I fasted often, and found myself more in tune with the spirit. I decided to serve a mission following my graduation from college. After a short stint of time at home at the beginning of summer break, I knew that my plans were no longer relevant. I withdrew from school for the fall semester, and began looking for a full time job so that I could save money to pay for my 2 years. I met with my Bishop, worked on my papers, and am now a mere doctor visit and interview process away from sending everything in.
In a mere month, I went from normal college junior, to preparing to serve a mission, to leaving everything behind that I may more fully dedicate my whole self to that service. I have changed for the better, and will continue to work to become more in tune with the still, small voice of the spirit, that I may never be alone.