I received my mission call on November 20, 2012 to the Albuquerque New Mexico Mission or as I and my fellow missionaries would come to call it NMAM. I had wanted to serve for I don’t know how long. I remember my parents discussing when my little brother would go someday and ooh it could make me so mad that they didn’t talk about when I would go! They always assured me that I was more than welcome to serve a mission if that was what the Lord wanted me to do and that they would 100 percent support me but I seemed to have a one-track, predetermined mind that I was already going.
Thankfully, I was right this time. The Spirit later confirmed to me that I was to go. That might have been a hard lesson for me however if I had felt like I shouldn’t have gone. So many sisters of the church have the real struggle of not receiving the confirmation to serve a mission. And that…is more than a-o-k-a-y.
I left to the MTC on February 6, 2012 with high spirits and grins from ear to ear. About three weeks into the MTC I received the news that my grandfather had just discovered bone cancer throughout his body and had a few weeks to live. He died the day before I left to my area.
I eventually learned the value and complete truth of “forgetting yourself and going to work”. My mission changed me. I loved working for the Lord. It was long, hard, enjoyable, tearful, peaceful, crazy, fast and slow paced, hot, divine, frustrating and valuable work. Best job I’ve ever had, haha. I grew to love each of my companions. I loved my areas. I fell in love with the people. I made eternal friends. And I more than loved working along side the faithful missionaries of NMAM. There were many times I felt as if we had known each other all along and had planned for this very work sometime and somewhere long ago.
About 8 months into my mission I began to have some health complications, primarily with the lumbar region of my back. The work pressed on, but I began to slow my pace. Which, drove me nuts. I beat myself up too much and allowed the adversary to step in at times. 10 months into my mission I had been in and out of the hospital for MRI’s, seeing specialists and physical therapists and it was finally determined that unless I received the adequate rest my back needed, I would not get better. I was told I was not allowed to sit for more than 10-15 minutes at a time, which as a missionary is a little hard to do. My mission president was more than a friend and father to me the day I left the mission. How I love my mission presidents! What great, great men they are. He knew exactly what to do and say.
I made the goal to get back out in two months. One terrible flight back home in the snow later, I found myself on bed rest in and out of doctor appointments once again where I found that my lower degenerated discs had slipped and had caused malformation in my hip structure. The inflammation was terrible and I remember really struggling getting used to how my body now worked. Sleeping, sitting, exercising, even standing, everything was…different. There were too many tears to count during that time but I’m positive the Savior counted each one. I did start to get better with the help of therapy, medication and spinal injections but was told I would never fully recover. But, I had three months left of my mission and I was determined to finish!
I remember very, very well the day I put my papers back in. I couldn’t wait to return. The same day I put in the request to return to the mission field I kneeled down for family prayer that night and my left knee slid out and locked in place. I’ve had knee problems throughout my life but talk. about. bad. timing. ANOTHER visit to the doctor’s and ANOTHER MRI told me that my meniscus was in shreds and my ACL was torn through. The doctor told me that what was left of my meniscus had actually flipped over in the knee and had been that way for over a year. He told me that usually when his patients have a meniscus flip, they are in for surgery the next day. I’ll never forget the questions he asked me then, “How have you been walking the last year?” And boy, oh boy, oh boy did the Spirit whammm me then!
The Lord had allowed me to serve exactly how much time He had wanted me to serve. I had been more than blessed to serve the time that I had had. I shouldn’t have been able to go in the first place. I received notice from Salt Lake shortly after that I had served my mission well and that I would not be returning to the field.
The sadness of that news and the painful surgery that followed were nothing compared to the peace that entered my heart in that moment where I knew with a full measure of knowledge that I had indeed served
MY mission.
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