how was the mission.

How was the mission? It is a question I have heard so much since being home and I only can give the one worded answer of "it was amazing" before we are on to the next subject and my heart is left a little broken because I want to share so many things about the mission without overbearing and boring them to death. So how was the mission...

The mission was the most incredible thing I have ever done. It exceeded all expectations. I did not realize how much you could possibly learn on a mission, or how much you are stretched and pushed to your limits...all to refine you into the best missionary and person you can be. I loved it. I loved every minute of it.

I did not know it was possible to love something so much you could give all your heart, might, mind and strength to it. I love the gospel so much. I always knew it was true but never to this capacity. I did not know I had this ability to go out and serve and serve faithfully. I saw miracles every single day. I feel so blessed that God would use me as his instrument to touch lives and to change bits of the world astounds me. It really is incredible to know that you are saying what Jesus Christ himself would say. I feel so blessed and grateful and passionate about the mission. I shudder to think that I even considered missing it for a second. I could have never known how great it was but I took that leap of faith and every day for eternity I will be immensely grateful for that.

As a missionary I felt the spirit rush through me literally everyday. I felt the truth like fire in my bones when it was accepted and when it was rejected. I felt divine help all around me every single day. I came to love and adore the people in such a pure and beautiful way and when that love was reciprocated, life felt like Heaven. I was happy as a missionary in a way that I have never been before and never will be again.

What an incredible experience it is to be a representative of the Savior Jesus Christ. this representation took many forms, whether it be offering service to all who we meet, making friends with the homeless, or just smiling at every single person we pass by. I loved being able to make friends with everyone and tell them how much God loved them or unfolding the secrets of life by those who have been eagerly searching and who are prepared by God himself. There were many times where I opened my mouth and out came something that I did not think of and I literally felt like a mouthpiece, a physical vehicle in which God could tell his children what He wanted them to know. I was led by an unseen glorious power to people or places or things or ideas. I remember many lessons where the spirit just radiated and my heart just burned with excitement as these wonderful people accepted commitments or made a decision or found an answer or shared their new testimony. 

I met and taught people from every walk of life. There were plenty of crazies, lots of cruel hardened people, the humblest of the humble and the haughtiest of the proud. I entered the homes of people with astonishing different views on the world, religion, values and culture. I was able to boldly testify of the truthfulness of the gospel, and as I recounted Joseph Smith's description literally thousands of times a chill would run down my spine or my heart would glow and a great comfort would come over me; I said "God loves you" millions of times to all these different people and every time I knew it was true, no matter who it was. All of these people were or will be blessed by the restored Gospel of Jesus Christ. I poured my heart out every day to these people and I loved it all. I loved these people so much, even the ones who yelled at us and cursed us and demeaned us in every single way. I loved them so much despite it all or because of it all.

I saw peoples lives change dramatically. I compared the original person I met out in the summer sun with sweat dripping down my face to a new glowing creature at a baptismal service. They had changed. Everything about them, the way they looked, the way they talked and acted, the way they felt, and they way they looked at the world around them. It was a miracle to watch. Sometimes it took longer than others but the miracle was still present. There were many lessons where I realized these people were changing right before my eyes. Member or not. There is nothing like hearing these new beloved friends pray for the very first time to their Heavenly Father. They were almost always nervous and their prayers were perfect in every way. We would open our eyes and look at each other and feel that special spirit of what had just happened. 

This all seems cliché, but suffice it to say, in so many magical, perfect, sparkly moments as a missionary I felt floating above the earth; the joy and peace and love and wonder that I could have never imagined existed. It was magic, and the very best kind, from heaven. 

And you know what made it so fantastically wonderfully spectacularly exquisitely great? The fact that it was so stinking hard. Excruciatingly hard. The fact that every magical moment was matched or temporarily superseded by some horrible, cruel, gutting moment. As much as I couldn't have imagined how beautiful the mission would be, there is no way I could have imagined how brutal and grueling it was. there were so many times when I literally thought I was loosing my mind, or I  literally felt like my heart had been ripped out and stomped on. Disappointment beyond what I had ever touched on before came to me in floods and in torrents. I was so insanely tired so much of those 18 months; every part of me in every facet was exhausted to the core. I felt alone, scared, defeated, tempted, disoriented, beat up, and sorrowful. And isn't that so so great?! This was my favorite part of the mission: it was HARD! I was in the refiner's fire. All the pain made the joy so much better. The contrast was so deep that I felt so thrilled and alive and vibrant. The paradoxes made every second interesting and fascinating and wonderful and amazing. I felt consistently hollowed out my heartache and my heart was stretched to feel more love. Even after being let down over and over and over, I still found faith in people and love for the work. To me, this is another proof that it is indeed the work of God. People often challenged us on the streets or at the door: we were there because our parents told us to or because we had been brainwashed. Several times I told these beloved people of the unpaid, unglamorous and often temporally unrewarded hardship we endured everyday, I explained to them the sacrifice and the real rewards. "there is no way, no no way, i would do this," I told them, "if it was not truly the work of God." and so it is.

Before the mission, I viewed the things I was leaving behind as huge sacrifices... I was stunned by what I was giving up. It seemed huge. Partway through I realized how incredibly small these sacrifices were compared to the blessings of serving the Lord full time. They were minuscule and were paid for a thousand, even a million fold in those magical moments and in those horridly difficult moments. Never could anything be more worth it. 

Towards the end I was reflecting on my time as a missionary just staring at my name badge and what it meant and how lucky I was to be doing what I was doing. Sure there were days that were hard but the good ones that followed made it even more amazing. It was such a huge blessing to wear that name tag, to know that I was an advocate of the Savior.

So how was the mission you ask.....