One year ago today I returned home from the best 18 months of my life. Flash back three years ago this month...
Up until August of 2011 I had convinced myself that I never was going on a
mission. I had little desire and I had a lot of fear. I was fearful of so many things that I won't go into detail about that now. I had just graduated from college, I had already seen many guy friends go and return, by now I had seen many girl friends go and return as well. Why was I feeling the tug to go? Why now? I had a brother already out and I had another brother preparing to leave in the near future. With my dad unemployed I felt a heavy burden. Not only was that going to make three missionaries, but I didn't even
want to go. I had a testimony that the Gospel was true, but no desire to serve a
mission. Yet, somehow, I felt the need to start my papers.
Without telling anyone, except my parents and bishop, I started the process. All of a sudden, it is Halloween and a big white envelope arrives. I was at the kitchen table when my dad casually walked by and set it in front of me. After a second, I realized what it was and my heart sank. With family excited all around, I walked into my room closed the door and just stared at this white envelope.
For those who may not understand: this white envelope contained the location I would be serving in, the day I would leave, and the language I'd be speaking.
What am I thinking?! This is the dumbest thing you've ever thought to do! Why am I doing this? This would not be the first time these questions ran through my mind.
I sent a quick text to all my friends: "My mission call came in today! I'll be opening it up at 7pm if you want to stop by! Also, surprise :)" So, almost as bewildered as I, my friends showed up in their Halloween getup and watched my open me mission call.
The first thing I saw was: "Sister Jackson" and "Texas Houston East" and "February." It was almost all at once. I then read it out loud for everyone to hear. Cheers and claps and tears!
Some ask if I was disappointed when I saw it was state-side but I really can't tell you. I was more dreading the fact that I had just received a mission call-regardless of where I was going. I was terrified! I knew it was the right thing but, oh, how I did not want to do it. I was so fearful.
The next few months were all preparation and denial. The best thing that happened to me between receving my call and my report to the
Missionary Training Center (MTC) was when I attended the temple in November. My grandmother was able to be there with me. And, this would be the last time I would see her in this life. What a happy and precious memory that was! My experience with the temple is another matter entirely. But, it was a wonderful day!
February came and I wasn't too excited about that. But, it came. I felt the Spirit nudging me and telling me it was the right direction, but it was still very hard to do. I wasn't fearful of being homesick. (And, in fact, I didn't feel homesickness very often of which I'm grateful) I can't explain what exactly I was fearful of. Actually, much of it may be too personal to share on a public blog. But, understand that I was putting on a good face for people when they asked me about my excitement of going on a mission.
I am not one for long goodbyes. Say goodbye and get going. And, that is what I did. My family drove me to the airport, took a couple photos and then I was gone. Walking through that airport alone took steps of faith. I was faking it until I made it. I sat in my seat by the window. As I looked out I could see a family waving goodbye from the top of the parking garage. It was my family. And, soon I watched them and Arizona fade away. Not to be seen again for 18 months.
As we flew, I looked across the aisle from me at another fellow missionary. His face showed what I felt.
What am I thinking?! This is the dumbest thing you've ever thought to do! Why am I doing this? He stared into the distance not noticing anything around him and I watched as he wiped away a tear. This kid was 19 and I was 23. Surely I should have been more mature and courageous. But, fear knows no age limit I guess.
I reported the MTC and it was a blast. It was tough. I cried myself to sleep most nights because I was so scared. But, the days were good! I loved my companions, I loved my district. I felt bonded with these people. I wanted to do good.
Then, the day came that I was to fly to Texas. I. Did. Not.Want.To.Go. Have I made that clear yet? If they had asked me to stay at the MTC for 18 months I would've gladly accepted! But, that is not what happened. I flew to Texas, met my Mission President, and felt so overwhelmed. My outfit wasn't even comfortable. I felt so frumpy!
What am I thinking?! This is the dumbest thing you've ever thought to do! Why am I doing this?
The time came for me to have my first interview with President Crawford. I couldn't help it. From the moment I sat down, I began to sob uncontrollably. My words were barely audible as I expressed to him how fearful I was. My dear Mission President sat forward in his chair, listened to every word, and was so patient with me. I could feel his love for me and he had only met me a few short hours earlier.
I barely slept that night and I dreaded the next day when I'd have to go to work for real.
I met my trainer the next day. She was wonderful! I am so grateful to her for all her love, patience, and wisdom. My first area was Baytown. I grew to love Baytown and my love for the work slooooowwwwwly increased. I was loving the learning and every now and then I'd have a shot of confidence, but it wasn't solid yet.
I remember listening to departing missionaries say "I wish I could start over just like you. I don't want to go home. I want to stay for as long as I can." And, I remember thinking, "You are lying. You are lying to me! You are only saying that to make me feel better." I didn't believe them and I promised that when my time came, I wouldn't say that. I would later realize how wrong I was.
Three months later I was transferred to Humble. That was a
refiner's fire. My dear companion tried her very best to help me. She loved me and she served me. I would not have it. I was at an all-time low. I wasn't happy and I didn't want to be there.
What am I thinking?! This is the dumbest thing you've ever thought to do! Why am I doing this? It was a six week struggle. I look back now and I am so grateful for the prayers and love my companion gave on my behalf. I can never repay her.
After six weeks, I was then transferred to Woodville. I didn't know it then, but Woodville would change my life. My companion and I had 6 months of combined experience. We really didn't know what we were doing. But, during that time I developed leadership skills I didn't know I had. I began to love the people more than I thought possible. The experiences I had in Woodville could probably fill a book. So, I won't share them all here. However, I will say that I had many highs and lows while serving in this little town.
I was blessed to serve in Woodville for 11 months. 8 transfers, 4 companions. Those were the Golden Days as I like to call them. I learned who most everyone was. By the time I left there weren't many homes that I hadn't visited or doors I hadn't knocked. I had learned who these people were. I learned of their triumphs, their failures, and the struggles they had overcome. I learned their testimonies, I learned their stories. From this little town of Saints I learned more of what the pure love of Christ was. I loved Woodville. I loved the Woodville Branch.
Somewhere, sometime during my stay in Woodville, I found my desire to be a missionary. I found a stronger testimony. I knew a mission was the right and crucial decision for my life. And, as a result, I began to work hard to show that desire. I had finally found it! And, that made all the difference!
During my time in Woodville, an
announcement was made that the minimum age requirement for missionaries was lowered to 18 more men and 19 for women. That was exciting! Yet, at that
historical moment I did not know the mental and physical toll I would pay for it!
With three months left until I came home, I was transferred to Crosby, TX. Due to the age change, we saw a wave of missionaries flood the mission. I was opening a new area, I was training a couple young missionaries, and I was doing training exchanges with other sister missionaries nearly twice a week. My mental and physical toll was beginning. I was dizzy, I wasn't sleeping, I was stressed about going home, etc. It was a wonderful experience. Difficult, but good. I wouldn't trade it. I, along with 6 other sisters, was "writing the new handbook" as we called it. Everything that was changing about missionary work was being tested and tried with us. It was exciting but it was exhausting.
Soon, much sooner than I had wanted, I was to report home. Through a series of events, I was blessed to stay in the mission home for a few days prior to my release. I was blessed to welcome new missionaries and talk with them. It was exciting!
My final transfer meeting came and it was crazy! I was saying goodbye to so many people. Then, the time came for my final testimony. I remembered the departing missionaries I had never believed. I now understood. And, I shared that. I would like to stay and I knew that they were telling the truth. I had changed.
The time for my final interview came. I went into President Crawford's office confident and happy. We laughed for a bit together and then he said, "Sister Jackson, this is a lot different than your first interview. What have you learned?" I told him that I had learned more about faith and love. My testimony had been strengthened so much that I felt more confidence in me and in my God. He smiled and said, "I hope that you remember that you can do hard things." And I knew it was true. As we talked some more we cried a bit, but not like the first time :) It was so amazing to me to see who I once was and to see who I was now. The
Atonement of Jesus Christ does more than just forgive sins (which is so necessary!) it also gives us strength to
climb mountains that are too big for us to climb.
That night I slept in the same bed that I had slept in my first night in Texas. And, just like that first night, I didn't sleep. Only this time is was for different reasons. I got up, went to the Houston
Temple and breakfast with the other departing missionaries. I was the only missionary not flying to Utah. So, I was dropped off at a different terminal, said goodbye to everyone, and walked through airport security again. This time my steps were opposite. They were full of faith. Nervous to come home and sad to be doing so, but still full of faith and confidence. I had just served a mission!
Did I really just do that? Am I really finished? Is this real?!
I remember watching Arizona come back into view. Weird. It was not as green as I used to think it was :) We landed and I took my time before I met up with my family. I went to the restroom, brushed my hair (I mean, there were going to be cameras!), and said a prayer to myself. I stood in the airport just outside of security in the hallway praying that this moment of reunion I would be able to enjoy. I prayed that it would be all that I had dreamed it would be.
I walked to the security checkpoint. I was up on a ramp and down below I knew my family would be waiting. I stopped at the top of the ramp took a deep breath and bent down to see below. I saw Carla laying down on the ground. She spotted me and I could hear "I see a skirt! I see Jonna!" I took another deep breath, smiled, and embraced this moment. I may be sad about coming home, but I could still enjoy the moment of seeing my family again! I ran down the ramp with a skip in my step.
You can watch a video of my reunion
here if you'd like.
What a wonderful moment. It was surreal. I never thought that day would come and it did. I had actually served a mission. I didn't think I could do it, but with the Savior's help, I did!
I carried a
Book of Mormon nearly everyday of my mission. I carried it with me that day. I love that book. I know that it is a true book. It is the word of God. I came closer to Jesus Christ by reading it and living by it's precepts.
I know
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the Lord's
restored church today. It is the only true and living church on the earth. I know that it is led by God Himself through
prophets and apostles.
I know that
Jesus is the Christ. I know He is real and I love Him. I could not do what I had done without Him.
My mission changed my life. It gave me confidence that I had never dreamed of. I learned so many things that are blessing my life now.
On our last day, all the departing missionaries were asked to write their testimony and create a scrapbook page. The scrapbook page needed to list three things we learned on the mission and why we believe we were called to the Texas Houston East Mission. This is what I wrote:
That about sums it up!
