Week 41: this poem I found (and tweaked) is much more eloquent than I could express it if I tried

I think I found out what the mission is.....

It’s impossible to describe a mission, but rather it’s the moment, it’s sending in your papers. It’s opening the call that is signed by a prophet of the Lord. It’s the 4 months of time before the MTC that seems like it’s never going to end. It’s the hug from parents and brothers and sisters and walking away in the greatest adventure of a life time. The MTC, the rules, the packages, the classroom, the firesides and devotionals (actually being disappointed when it’s a Seventy speaking). Its flight plans, tons of food, testimonies, and cabin fever. It’s the airport, a phone call sharing your first wanna-be testimony in Spanish to your family as tears run down your face. Then out of the little swimming pool and into the ocean of uncertainty.

It’s the mission presidents, trainers, realizing you didn't learn hardly any Spanish in those 9 weeks but loving it all at the same time. It’s new food, new people, new culture, new language, new currency, new form of transportation, new routine, new everything under the sun (which is really hot). It’s a lot of first that change: first district meeting first contact, first lesson, first letter from home, first email, first Latin companion, first cold shower with water you’re not so sure you can touch and survive, first morning of trunkyness, first Sunday in church, first time a kid speaks and you turn to your comp to ask if that was Spanish and she only laughs, first First Vision, first baptism... unforgettable, no matter how disorganized it is.

First changes come and it’s all a blur after that. It’s being anxious for your companion to leave then to your surprise you miss her when she is gone. Its 99 contacts… and nothing. It’s shaking hands, lying children (“my mom says she’s not here”), and barking biting dogs. But it’s the hope that contact number 100 will be the one. The one that wants to change. The one who has been crying for help to a God that he or she wants to follow, but doesn't know where to find Him. The one that seems perfect: perfect questions, perfect work schedule, married, perfect kids that don't scream during a lesson and most importantly, a desire to make it work even if everything isn't perfect. It’s the hope of finding the one that gets you up every morning, gets you out of member’s house in 100 degree plus weather when everyone else is sleeping, and gets you to open your mouth and speak even though you don't speak well and don't like leaving your comfort zone.

It’s finding the one, one convert, future priesthood holder—or better yet, one golden family. It’s making plans, working with members, a lots and lots of prayers to help find that family. Many are found, but few choose to be chosen. It’s thousands of disappointments as the family´s commitment falls to doubts, gossip, weather, or anything else clever that Satan comes up with on Saturday night. It’s getting the family to church for the first time and helping them feel at home. It’s showing them the Church, presenting them to the bishop and other leaders, as well as the cute, outgoing teenage girl so that the young man in the investigator family will enjoy the experience as well. It’s praying that the bishop’s 2-year-old won’t make too big of a fuss, that the speakers won’t teach too much false doctrine, and that they will feel and recognize the spirit in spite of all that.

It’s when that family gets baptized that the reality of what you are giving them hits you. It’s the hope of having and eternal family. It’s the hope of a better life, without pain and suffering. It’s giving that Hope which brings you the greatest satisfaction and joy that you have ever experienced. It’s the temple dedication that touches your heart as you re-realize the covenants you made in a time and land that now seem so far away. It’s wanting that for your investigators. It’s praying for them. Crying. Bawling. Wishing. Wanting them to change. To repent. To come unto Him. To let themselves be healed. To change their lives.

It’s like going back in time and appreciating what you had back home. It’s the firm declaration that you will never complain about vacuuming again when actually have carpet, or mowing the lawn when you actually have grass.

It’s having to shower with flip flops and washing your own clothes on those cement trays that you though they only used in the pioneer days.... and you learn to love it.

It’s watching them enter a baptismal font with freezing cold water, flipping a bug out, and doing their best to put on a happy face so that the little girl getting baptized doesn't get cold feet.

It’s getting home soaked 75-80% of the time, whether from the rain or sweat. It’s sitting in front of a fan wondering if you can do this another day in the oven you’re living in.

It’s Hermanas 2: Mosquitos 350 in a matter of just 5 minutes. It’s letters and packages from home. It’s wedding announcements, Dear John’s ( luckily just to those elders), pictures, and the realization that life does indeed move on without you.

It’s going through 1 pair of shoes every transfer, ripped skirts, missing buttons, tighter skirts, iron-ruined shirts, blistered feet, and smiles and giggles.

It’s street food—those balleadas, oranges from your favorite orange man (with salt, of course—an option that you never considered before this wonderful journey), that delicious fruit juice of who-really-knows-what-fruit, the every 5-minute-stop at a pulperia to buy cookies.

It’s a rainstorm that soaks you and your comp because those so-called-umbrellas don't even work while true buckets are coming down on you. It’s walking through water up to your calves and not having anything else to do but laugh as people look at you like you’re crazy (which ISN'T a complete misconception). It’s going out in the rain because a sister once convinced you that for every rainstorm you work through, the more attractive and intelligent your future husband will be.

It’s shortly after your 9-month mark that you get a mini-calendar from your mom and sister and wondering if they are trying to kill you or if they think it’s going to make time go by faster. From then on it’s change day, Mother’s day, Christmas Day, Birthday, P-day, Friendship Day, and Election Day (which always makes for an interesting Sunday). It’s good days, bad days, killer journal entry days, and days that you just don't want to end. Those are the good ‘ole days.

The days that can’t be enjoyed without a price... hard work, sweat, discouragement, frustration, and faith.

It’s discovering that God does hear and answer prayers. Sometimes He takes away from everyone else so that we can really get to know Him. It’s coming to learn in a tiny degree, the power of the Atonement applies not only to vile sinners, but also to each individual, including you. It’s feeling that power and knowing you'll never be the same.

It’s knowing that you have a testimony and nobody can take that from you. It’s building it one piece at a time. Joseph Smith was a prophet. The Book of Mormon is true. The priesthood keys have been restored. Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God. It’s sharing that testimony dozens of times a day that roots it deeply in your soul.

It’s watching missionary after missionary give their final testimonies, while you are certain that day will never arrive for you... and then it does. It’s learning the live in the moment and not for the moment because all too soon, it’s gone. It’s the sunsets, the music, the dirt dusty streets, dirty kids. The tiny houses, and the love of the people. It’s soaking it all in, catching every detail, because you'll never get it back.

It’s arriving at the last couple days in your mission, knowing your family is waiting NOT so patiently. It’s those last couple contacts that you know you will never see get baptized but you still just want to leave your soul with them.

It’s wondering about the effect of one mission. Does one mission really have eternal consequences? Does planting one seed, teaching one lesson, finding one person really matter at all?

Did the mission of ONE make a difference?

Did His ministry, His teachings, His seed planting have an effect on the eternities?

Did His one infinite atonement pay the price of justice and give mercy her claim?

As you get ready to go back to the former life that you're convinced was just a dream, its realizing that while you were in the service of your fellow being, you have only been in the service of God. Its feeling your heart and soul overflow with gratitude for the chance you had to show your worth, give your all, and return with honor. It’s BECOMING like the ONE, the Only Begotten, the Son of Man, the Prince of Peace, the Savior and Redeemer of all mankind, even Jesus Christ. It’s those two years for which you will eternally praise the Lord, as the life that was converted more than any other was only one—YOU.

It’s the tears that roll down your cheek as you write your last email. It’s knowing that this poem could go on forever but you don't know, when, how, or where to stop. Its wanting to tell your family how much you love them and hoping they will accept this as a final testimony from Honduras knowing now... without a doubt... that this is the true church.

It’s being able to say SEE Y'ALL IN 3 DAYS knowing that these 2 years may come to an end... but the mission never will, just new people, clothes, cell phones, and your family and old friends back.

It’s not having to say... “UNTIL NEXT WEEK;” rather... “See you soon enough!”

Love you all!!

Love your missionary