THE BEST MONTH AND A HALF
Honestly, I have been putting off writing this for a while. When I was first thinking about starting a blog, this is one of the first ideas I came up with, and yet, it is also one of the ones I have been dreading most to write. However, I know it is important to share my story. Not just for those who are going through a similar situation as me, but also so I can remember how much impact this month and a half has had on my life. So, get your tissues ready. This one is a doozie.
This story actually starts back when I was a child. Both of my parents served missions for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and all throughout my childhood I heard about how amazing their missions were. I have always known that I wanted to serve a mission. With two amazing examples of how missions can change your life, how could I not? I remember as I came to my senior year of high school, I began to meet with scholarship advisors to plan the next few years of my life. Here was the plan: One year of attending my dream school, BYU, followed by an amazing year and a half serving the Lord. I imagined myself going to Germany, learning the language and being immersed in the culture (possibly converting a soccer player and later marrying him). I had it all planned out. However, the Lord had different plans for me.
As it turned out, BYU was not quite like I had imagined it would be. My time there was amazing, and I am so grateful for my opportunity to attend there, but it was a rough first year. I came home with, surprisingly, a shaken faith, and was now questioning whether or not it was the right decision for me to go on a mission. I spent that whole summer trying to figure out the plan, all the while going about things the wrong way. I think all along I knew deep down inside I was meant to go on a mission, but I was trying to find any way possible to get out of going. Luckily, we have a merciful and tenderhearted Lord, who managed to get through my tough exterior. I can remember walking up to my family one random summer day and saying, “I have decided to go on a mission. I am telling you now so you won’t let me get out of it”. Despite the weight of having made the decision lifted off of my shoulders, I was terrified to go and preach the Gospel. I dragged out my application process as much as I possibly could, hoping for a miracle, I guess.
Finally, the day came when my big white envelope arrived in the mail. I already knew where I was going. Germany, duh! The Lord was making me go on a mission, the least he could do is send me where I wanted to go. As my dad filmed me opening the call, the words “Michigan, Lansing Mission” came rushing out of my mouth. To say I was disappointed is an understatement. I remember crying to my mom in my room, so traumatized by the fact that I was not even leaving the country .(As it turns out, not leaving the country was one of the biggest blessings in disguise I have ever witnessed in my twenty-two years.) Although I was not thrilled about going to Michigan, I knew I had made a commitment to the Lord, and had to go. Even if it was begrudgingly.
Christmas and New Year's seemed to come way to fast that year, and before I knew it, I was hugging my dad and grandma goodbye at the Provo, Utah Temple. As soon as I stepped out of the car, and made my way into the Missionary Training Center, all of my fears and anxieties washed away. I could feel the strength of the Lord literally buoying me up, and helping me to have the confidence to take on what I felt was a great challenge. I loved my time at the MTC! I had the best group of missionaries surrounding me, without a doubt. I learned so much about myself, the Gospel, my Savior, my Heavenly Father, His plan for me, the list just goes on and on. You step into the MTC, thinking you know it all having been raised in the church, and leave recognizing you are truly starting your conversion process (at least that is the way I felt). I look back on my time at the MTC with great fondness. However, after two weeks in there, I was just itching to get out and share the Gospel with actual people (What a 180, right?). Finally, the day arrived, and I was on a plane to East Lansing, Michigan.
Those first couple nights in Michigan were rough. The realization sets in that you are really not going to see your family for eighteen months. What if my dog dies? Is the little girl I babysit even going to remember me? However, with the Lord’s strength, and an amazing trainer, I made it through my first couple of days, and began to feel as if I could handle being a missionary. We were teaching amazing people, and the winter in Michigan was supposed to be a mild one. What more could one ask for? I was finally enjoying being a missionary. However, there came a curve in the road that I was not expecting, but probably should have been. Migraines. I have gotten migraine headaches since I was a kid, and they were usually triggered by changes in the weather, but I didn’t even think about how they would affect the work in Michigan. I began to get headaches everyday, and worried about how I was going to make it through the year and a half ahead. My poor companion was amazing, but I felt horrible making her do Weekly Planning all by herself, while I slept on the floor like a slug. I tried medicine, I tried getting a blessing, I tried fasting (for sure, wrong move), I tried praying. Nothing was seeming to work, and I just continued to get more discouraged.
One night, as we were packing up our apartment to move to a new one, I can remember feeling so discouraged and lost. All I wanted to do was go home, but I had no idea if that was the right decision or not. I did not want to regret leaving my mission for the rest of my life, but I saw no way out of the situation. I can remember kneeling against my chair while my companion packed, pouring my soul out to the Lord, asking what in the world I should do. I remember receiving this calm, peaceful feeling, prompting me that it was ok to go home. This massive weight was lifted off of my shoulders, and I cried tears of joy to my companion.
Despite the fact that I had received such an awe-inspiring answer, I still had many doubts. Was it the Lord speaking to me, or am I just telling myself what I want to hear? What is everyone back home going to think? Holy Toledo, Batman! I only made it a month and a half, how sad is that? Despite my fears, our merciful Savior and Heavenly Father sent me so many reassuring promptings and feelings of peace, reminding me that I was making the right decision. I was able to board that airplane with my head held high, knowing I was making the right decision.
Entering the church that first Sunday back was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. Ever. I am so grateful for the strength and encouragement of the Lord, because if I hadn’t gone that first day, I don’t know that I ever would have. My ward family was amazing, and so supportive. No one made any rude comments, but instead made me feel proud of the time I had served. I am forever grateful for all of their kind words. However, my inner most thoughts and feelings were not always as kind. To this day, I still have times where I doubt my decision to come home, and wonder if I will forever regret the decision I have made. Is the Lord mad at me? Did I not give it my all?
I am here to remind myself, and others who have come home early, that there is no need to second guess the decision we have made. Coming home early is hard, but we need to remember that the Lord is so proud of the service we were able to render. I can remember my district leader, my leaders at church, and my bishop telling me that I had completed a worthwhile mission. I need to remember the promptings, peaceful feelings, and true comments of church leaders, that have made it clear to me time and time again that the Lord is proud of me. And so do you! It is so easy to get caught up in the spiral of self-doubt, but in the end, that is not how Heavenly Father and the Savior want us to feel. They want us to let our missions change us for the better, and to continue being a “missionary” for the rest of our lives. Despite the fact that we may have been out for only a short while, I know the Lord was able to use us to help others. Remember, He is proud of you, and be proud of yourself.
I am so grateful for that month and a half I was able to serve. Was it a lot shorter than I thought it was going to be? Heck yes. Did it still convert me to the Gospel? For sure. I am forever indebted to my mission. It was one of the first times in my life where I truly learned to use the Savior’s Atonement to strengthen me and keep me going in the face of adversity. I was able to see just a snippet of how much our Father in Heaven loves us, through how much I loved the people I was teaching. My mission firmly set my testimony roots in the soil of the Gospel, and it has forever changed me. I will never regret going on my mission, I cannot imagine who I would be without it. It truly was the best month and a half.