The reality of being a new missionary

I loved the MTC! It was like being at the best summer camp with the best people, best spirit, best knowledge, and worst food (stick with the cereal, embrace the cafeteria lines, and celebrate on pizza night). You have to remember, serving a mission wasn't my plan. It was God's plan. So, when I got thrown into the action of missionary work I suddenly saw it was just that – work. Hard work! And it through me for an absolute loop. People tell you it's going to be hard but you either disregard such thoughts or fail to comprehend them altogether. This blog isn't going to be entirely rainbows and butterflies, I experienced some real challenges on my mission and I'm not afraid to admit that. But here's the thing to keep in mind, the Lord will not let us fall. Remember the "brotherly hands and determined arms that reached into the abyss of death to save us from our fallings and our failings, from our sorrows and our sins" (Elder Jeffery R. Holland, Where Justice, Love, and Mercy Meet). I wasn't falling to my death in the MTC, but I was indeed falling. God's grace is enabling, and I experienced that enabling power as a missionary time and time again.



September 27, 2013

First meal in the MTC was the worst meal. WORST MEAL EVER. For all those future missionaries out there, avoid the wraps and take into consideration 4pm dinner time.
We were split into three groups, each taking turns teaching different investigators. I learned the importance of kneeling for prayer and the power of singing hymns.

I had my first teaching experience and found out what they mean when they say "the MTC is hard". My companion and I both felt that our lesson didn't go well and - you know me, miss perfectionist - struggled with it throughout the entire day. I pretty much lost it during the last hour or so of the our final classroom instruction. It was personal/companion study time, and we were once again struggling to know what to teach our investigator. We went in with a message prepared and tried to make that work instead of individualizing the message. I'm experiencing the overwhelming "how can I do this?" feelings that come when learning to be a good missionary.

Overwhelmed and frustrated. I need to really pray for help and confidence.

And when I had said this, the Lord spake unto me, saying: Fools mock, but they shall mourn; and my grace is sufficient for the meek, that they shall take no advantage of your weakness; And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them (Ether 12:26-27).

the beginnings of a missionary

It's day two. They certainly keep you busy here, which is good though because you have no time to miss home. We ate at Cubby's before my parents dropped me off. Skipping lunch might've been a good idea. I didn't feel anxious, I still felt at peace, but my body told a different story. I cried when we first drove past the MTC. Seeing all those elders waiting for the new arrivals just reconfirmed that this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. My farewell with mom and dad was short and sweet, it's better that way. I met my host who kindly pulled my three bags, hugged my parents, said goodbye, and that was it. I walked away. I remember dad's last words being, "do work" – he had tears in his eyes.

I thought I was fine, but as I walked away the tears just started streaming down, hello waterfall on my face. Everything was very organized, which the perfectionist within was grateful for. Got my nametag, key, ID card, books, room. I saw Tehya (Sister Griffiths now) and it was such a tender mercy to see a familiar face! My companion arrived. She's a very kind girl who definitely has a testimony and personal relationship with Christ. She has already been such a dependable companion, always finding opportunities to serve me.

My district is small, only 4 companionships, but small is great. I love our teachers. They're quite different, but in the perfect sort of way. The spirit here is amazing! When we sing hymns as missionaries… ahhh! I die! I tear up every single time. I downright cry every time I'm asked to pray. Last night my roommates and I said a "family prayer" and I lost it. Not in a homesick kind of way, more of a I feel their love and prayers sort of way. I know they are praying for me all the time.