Decision to Serve: Part I

I have recently decided that it’s not actually me choosing the topic of these blogs. I have a whole list of ideas of what to write about, but somehow the only words that will flow are ones about something completely different. Something a bit more personal. I keep sharing more about myself than I normally would, but somehow it feels right. Today’s topic is something that’s been on my mind for a while now. And since I tend to pray to know what to write and how to write it, probably I should pay attention when ideas come and won’t leave me alone. So here goes, and I hope it makes a difference in at least one person’s life.

 I have always wanted to go on a mission. So when I turned 21 almost a year ago, I decided that then would probably be a good time to submit my papers. I turned them in the end of October. A couple of days later, I got a call from my stake president.  He said, “The Mission Office called me about your mission call. They’re concerned because you listed your last panic attack as being only six months ago and they would prefer that it be at least a year. You’re going to have to get a Psychological Evaluation to see if you can still go out.”

 I couldn’t keep the tears from flowing. I was devastated. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Not go on a mission? Wasn’t I worthy enough? I was tough; I could deal with a mission in spite of my anxiety. Couldn’t I?

 But lately my anxiety had been getting worse, and I knew that at that time it was at a point where I wouldn’t be able to pass my Psychological Evaluation. So I moved back to college and started getting counseling. I also started looking for a medication to help with the anxiety – something I never thought I would agree to do. And I decided a mission just wasn’t for me.

 I wasn’t very happen with this decision. This was not how I had had my life planned out. I wanted to go on a mission. I was obedient, I was worthy, and above all I was tougher than anything the world could throw at me. I had thought that I could handle anything – but apparently the Lord didn’t feel the same way. Not being able to go made me feel weak, and I hated that feeling.

 But I began to realize that my reasons for going were not what they should have been. Beyond the anxiety, maybe there were other things I had to overcome before I could go out – things such as my pride and my expectations for how my life should go.

 You see, I felt like I was expected to go on a mission. I didn’t understand how any girl who had a testimony would not want to go. It wasn’t so much that I judged those girls who didn’t go as that I felt that everyone else would judge me – goody-two-shoes, always obedient me – if I didn’t go. I also wanted to prove that I was tough. Everyone says that missions are hard, and I wanted to prove that I was strong enough to handle it. So I sent in my papers – and got rejected. What a blow to my pride.

But through a lot of prayer and study and talking to my parents, I learned to be humble. I learned to trust in the Lord. I learned that there are other ways to be a missionary besides receiving an official call, and I’d rather be a member missionary than only serve for 18 months and then be done. I learned that yes, I am tough, but that does not mean that there are never any limits to what I can do. It means that I can survive anything because I am determined, but it does not mean that I will never have any setbacks in life. I learned that it is with Heavenly Father’s help that I can do all things that I need to do – and I learned to redefine what those things are. So I learned to be okay with not going on a mission.