Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Tia Enters the MTC

Wednesday, September 14, 2011, Dad drove Tia to the MTC where she pulled up to a curb full of missionary escorts, unloaded her suitcases, and disappeared through the front doors to begin her labor of love.  We can't wait for her first letter to hear how the rest of the day went.  As a family we decided to honor her big day and her future mission home by eating steak at TEXAS Roadhouse that night.


  1. I can't believe she's gone!! Will you put her address up so I can write/email her?

  2. If anyone, in addition to Caitlan, wants Sister Dunkley's addresses please email me at:


    Yes, I'm paranoid about posting information on public blogs:)

  3. I'm not sure how it was a family event going to Texas Road House... What with only a small percentage of the family attending

  4. Perhaps we'll have to eat at Texas Roadhouse anytime there are three family members or more gathered together.

  5. Excerpt from Tia's First letter.... Sept. 20

    My first few days were hectic compared to now, but I can honestly say I wasn't stressed out one bit. All of us sisters in the room bonded really fast and just had an easy time of getting used to the MTC. One thing I remember (it seems so long ago - I can't believe I saw you guys less than a week ago) is that the power in my hall was out, so when my host and I got in, what we saw was an empty, silent, darkness. Honestly, it was the weirdest thing, because you felt the spirit all around you, but horror and suspense movies had taught you that Freddie Kreuger would be jumping out at you at any moment. Odd.

    Another random funny story is how incredibly gullible we were our first day (first off, everyone is incredibly nice to you, saying welcome and telling you where to go before you even realize you're lost). Our Zone Leader faked an Irish accent and convinced us all that he was from Dublin. Yeah, he went about 20 minutes like that, explaining things, till suddenly, no warning involved, he started talking with an American accent and claiming that he was from Smithfield, UT, or something like that.

    I pretty much live for gym so that I can go play volleyball. It's fabulous. I've already gotten several raspberries from diving (I impress the elders with my devotion to the hit) and I just about die when they kick the ball. Which they do. All. The. Time. Good job for conditioning me, Mom. I've resisted lecturing them about it thus far, but I don't know how much longer I can stand.