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I remember sitting in my young women's class one Sunday with a bookmark-length piece of paper my leaders had passed around resting on my lap. Dotting the top and surrounded by curling filigree were the familiar words "What I Want in a Future Spouse." I wrote down some stupid things, like dark hair and beautiful brown eyes or someone who is tall -- it's really funny to see how preference changes over time -- but then there were more important and personal things, too, some that, as a girl, I don't think I understood fully.
Things like:
"He must honor his Priesthood."
"He must be able to look past my weaknesses."
"He should talk to me about important things."
And then, near the top: "He must be a returned missionary."
I must have written that last one dozens of times, spurred on by well-intending leaders who made sure that we knew the importance of a mission. I'll admit to picturing a handsome young man, home from an international mission with lots of stories and a new-found love of a culture. We'd decorate our first home with flags and native prints and tell our children his stories. That, in my head, is what it would be like.
It's been four years since I left the Young Women's and a lot has changed since then. My list is no longer hair/eye color focused and I've become incredibly picky when it comes to the spiritual things. I, like most people, I'd imagine, regret that I found certain traits so important, and as I get older, I find myself regretting unexpected things.
Namely, I regret that "Returned Missionary" had such an unshakable place on my checklist.
