The Jon and Carrie Love Story, part 3

My next job would not be easy.

I left the Deseret News and thus Salt Lake City in the spring of 2002. Taking that job had completely changed the course of my life and put me on a path to where I would later meet Jon.

But first came the summer of 2002. The summer I was a camp counselor in Pennsylvania.

Why did I do such a thing? Well, I was single, bored, adventurous, and wanting to travel as far from the Northwest as possible. I loved the Northwest, but before "settling" into a career of some kind, I wanted to get out and explore a little. So I took the job that would take me the furthest away and pay me to do it.

I stepped onto a red-eye flight and into a different world. I was the bunk counselor over a group of 11-year-old strong willed girls, and I was also the Media Counselor, guiding girls through writing for the camp newspaper. Eight weeks later, when I went home to my parents' in Oregon, my mom said, "You haven't talked about camp much." It's true. I'm still not sure what to say about it. It was intense. The rules were strict, the girls were hard to work with, but in the end I grew to love them and I got pretty good at working with them.

I could only bring one suitcase of things for the entire eight weeks, and so I packed clothes and a quilt and a few other items, plus just one book. The most important book of all of my life. The Book of Mormon. At the time it seemed the logical choice. I had read from its pages everyday, and I had planned to read from it throughout my life. But bringing it to a place that was so vastly different than my home and college life at BYU, it spoke to me in ways I had never experienced.

The people running and attending the camp were almost all from a different faith than my own. Their beliefs, standards, and way of life were completely different than mine-- not bad, just different. That coupled with a strict schedule and high humidity and heat and not a lot of free time... I took solace in the evenings. Only then could I be alone with my own thoughts and with the quiet. And the only thing that I could turn to that would help me relax from the day was my copy of The Book of Mormon.

There is something about traveling to new places that makes me introspective. I think about life, about who I want to be, and I am inspired to action. I think everyone should regularly travel outside of their comfort zone. It shakes things up. It wakes you up.

Every night after lights out, I'd head out onto the porch of our dark bunk with my flashlight. I'd watch the fireflies dance around camp, and I'd breath in the relieving cool air. I felt at peace as I'd open The Book of Mormon and read. I'd read it so many times before, but this time felt like the first time.

Nephi jumped off the page at me. I didn't want to put it down; I almost couldn't put it down. All the stories I had known and loved were suddenly new. What did all these prophets go through to get this book to me? It only took a few pages before I felt an extreme power. I had always felt the Spirit when I read it, but this time, being out of my element, feeling vulnerable, and needing a strong source of comfort, the power of the book touched me to the core.

I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was true. I knew it. I knew it. I had never been so sure of anything in my life.

Every night for the next eight weeks, I read and read and read. During the day, I did my best to fight battles, learn the ways of pre-teens, and develop a media program on my own, but what I lived for were the evenings when I could read. I savored each moment, each page, each word. It was incredible.

I had originally felt the urge to take the job so I could travel-- which I did, including trips to New York City and the area surrounding the camp, and even to Chicago on the way back home-- but what I gained by way of my now incredibly strong testimony of The Book of Mormon was worth a million trips or jobs or anything that I could give up.

I went home with a new confidence. The gospel that I had known and loved and lived my whole life was now something I knew for myself. I felt it so strongly. And now I knew why it wasn't time for me to me married yet. I wasn't ready spiritually. I wasn't ready for the spiritual man that I would marry. I had needed to struggle through Salt Lake City and Pennsylvania before I would be ready for the man of my dreams.

Meanwhile, Jon had just gotten home to Yakima from his two-year mission to Ecuador. And I was about to move to town. >>Continue to Part 4