I graduated from high school in the spring of 1972 at age 17, worked during the summer, and started college at the University of Utah in the fall of that year at age 18. Following my first year of college I again worked during the summer and turned 19 in July of 1973. All summer long I wrestled with the decision of whether to serve a church mission. On the one hand, I believed it was the right thing to do and wanted to serve my Heavenly Father. On the other hand, leaving school to serve a mission would mean giving up my National Merit scholarship. And a two-year commitment seemed like an eternity.
My mother was supportive of whatever I decided to do. My father did NOT want to see me give my scholarship and discouraged me from considering serving a mission. So I got no clear signal from my parents and remained torn.
During the era of the Viet Nam war, some saw the military deferment granted to missionaries as an additional blessing of serving a mission. But the draft lottery was last held in 1972, so the following year when the draft ended and the all-volunteer army was instituted I did not face the prospect of being drafted and possibly going to Viet Nam. How ironic that I was called to serve a mission in Viet Nam, the very country so many wanted to avoid at all costs.
In the end I decided to serve as a result of the conviction that I should and the example of my high school friends, some of whom had accepted mission calls and were leaving for their fields of service.
In the fall of 1973, I did not return for my second year of college. Instead, I continued working and saving money for a mission. I sold my beloved 1961 Thunderbird for the grand sum of $225. My mother did not want to store the car for me because she thought my father would drive it in my absence and ruin it. Besides, I needed the money.
So in December of 1973, following an early Christmas with my family, I was dropped off at the Mission Home in Salt Lake City and began my missionary service.
Following are some photos from that time. The first photo shows me cleaning the outside baptism font at the Saigon branch of the church. The other two photos are of me and other Elders with whom I served (Elder Santry Elmer, who served in Viet Nam and who was my companion in Arkansas and Elder Stewart Baxter, who served in Arkansas).
My mother was supportive of whatever I decided to do. My father did NOT want to see me give my scholarship and discouraged me from considering serving a mission. So I got no clear signal from my parents and remained torn.
During the era of the Viet Nam war, some saw the military deferment granted to missionaries as an additional blessing of serving a mission. But the draft lottery was last held in 1972, so the following year when the draft ended and the all-volunteer army was instituted I did not face the prospect of being drafted and possibly going to Viet Nam. How ironic that I was called to serve a mission in Viet Nam, the very country so many wanted to avoid at all costs.
In the end I decided to serve as a result of the conviction that I should and the example of my high school friends, some of whom had accepted mission calls and were leaving for their fields of service.
In the fall of 1973, I did not return for my second year of college. Instead, I continued working and saving money for a mission. I sold my beloved 1961 Thunderbird for the grand sum of $225. My mother did not want to store the car for me because she thought my father would drive it in my absence and ruin it. Besides, I needed the money.
So in December of 1973, following an early Christmas with my family, I was dropped off at the Mission Home in Salt Lake City and began my missionary service.
Following are some photos from that time. The first photo shows me cleaning the outside baptism font at the Saigon branch of the church. The other two photos are of me and other Elders with whom I served (Elder Santry Elmer, who served in Viet Nam and who was my companion in Arkansas and Elder Stewart Baxter, who served in Arkansas).
Elders Elmer and Oviatt in front of the church in Fort Smith, Arkansas
Elders Oviatt and Baxter at the airport in Fort Smith, Arkansas seeing off a refugee family headed to California
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