the calm after the storm: life as a newly-returned RM

Coming home from the mission is like getting sucked out of a riptide and tossed in a kiddie pool.

You're used to going hard and working 10-hour days (that's not including the time you put in for studies) and suddenly you're not working. At all. Your knee-jerk reaction is to talk to everyone about the gospel. In the store, on the street, you even want to stop and pull over the car just to talk to someone on the sidewalk. Can't you just see a girl in a black hoodie and sweats pulling a minivan over and rolling down the window: "hey there, do you wanna hear a message about Jesus Christ?"

Apparently, that's not considered normal in the real world.

It gets weirder when you try to introduce yourself. Your brain keeps choking on itself and you can't think of yourself by your proper name. Is it your first name? Should you just scrap it and go by your last name? Your first name on the mission is "Sister/Elder" so maybe you should just stick to that....

And then, as people congratulate you and welcome you back, you finally realize what Frodo Baggins is talking about in Lord of the Rings, when the hobbits go back to the Shire after fighting the war of the Ring and the Shire is...exactly the same. As Frodo says:

How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand... there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep, that have taken hold.

While perhaps serving a mission isn't nearly as traumatic as traipsing into Mordor to destroy a weapon of ultimate evil, missions can be pretty dang painful and difficult. And nobody really knows what happened, what you've been doing and how you've changed the world. How you've changed. You realize that there are things you will never be able to explain or share with the people closest to you. The lives you've seen change, the miracles, the experiences, the answered prayers after months of begging for answers. The gospel means so much more to you now than just going to church for three hours a week, it's living and breathing itself.

People will ask you about the food, the language, the people, the baptisms. But these are all just a fraction of what you've experienced and what you felt.

Shoutout to Tolkien for creating a story that would help explain the plight of newly-returned missionaries. Always knew I could count on you, JRR. (Not coincidentally, JRR Tolkien wrote Frodo's character the way he did because he was reflecting his own feelings on returning home from World War I a shell-shocked veteran.)

The things you thought you'd be interested in when you got home are pointless to you now. You had a list of movies several pages long in little notebook, but you've watched maybe one or two of them. You just do the little things like exercise and shower and read scriptures every day and wonder:

Where do I go from here?

People who aren't also newly-returned missionaries laugh and say, "well, marriage, of course!" But you're still married to the mission in your head. You know you have to move forward but there's nothing hold onto in the future and the recent past is all so very real and there. You don't want to change, but you can't live a missionary lifestyle anymore. It's just not your calling anymore.

I know I'm not the only one going through these odd withdrawal feelings. In fact, I know people who've had them worse than I have. This is not a new phenomenon, but I've noticed that there isn't really anything to help newly-returned missionaries in their transition back from missionary life. We have the Missionary Training Center to help us prepare for life in the mission field, but there's nothing on the flip side. Just an airplane flight and that's it. The stake president shakes your hand and sends you on your way and just like that you're not a missionary anymore.

But the mission does a pretty good job preparing you for heartbreak, instability and sudden change. Living out of two suitcases and facing the possibility of moving every six weeks will do that. So you come home, unpack your bags, get rid of a bunch of stuff, and get ready for the next thing. Maybe it's a job, maybe school, maybe both. You have to figure out your own purpose now. It's not clearly spelled out in page 1 of Preach My Gospel.


But in the midst of my own personal search to find some meaning to this new, unfamiliar life, I realized that our purpose to "invite others to come unto Christ" isn't reserved for people with a nametag on their chest, and if a mission has taught me anything, it's that as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I have not only the privilege but the responsibility to do missionary work for the rest of my life!

And missionary work is so much easier for me to do now with a phone and access to as many social media websites as the internet can provide. God didn't intend for missions to end, He meant for them to be a big first step onto the rest of our lives onto earth. Everything is meant to prepare. My two months in the Missionary Training Center prepared me for the mission, the mission has prepared me for the rest of life, and this life is preparatory for eternity.

So while I'm certainly not the most experienced returned missionary, I think I'm finally getting a handle on things with the same purpose that kept me going on my mission.

Isn't it cool that we have a Heavenly Father who made this incredible plan and figured it all out?

the nature of sacrifice

I'm approximately a month and half out from being able to submit my mission papers for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It's been a really long, hard road getting to this point, and I'm so grateful for the support of my family and friends in all my struggles and endeavors. I've been so incredibly blessed that for me to express anything other than gratitude would be an insult to my Heavenly Father and all those who have been supporting me so strongly.

But like I said, it's been a really long, hard road, and it still is. It's been especially hard for me to reconcile some of the sacrifices I've had to make in preparation for the mission, particularly the sacrifice of time. I was 17.5 years old when the mission announcement was made in October of 2012, which meant that while my college roommates and friends could all experience the joy of going within a few months of the age change, I would have to wait a full year and a half -- just over 18 months, to be exact -- before I could fully appreciate the same blessing of going out in the mission field.

I've spent countless nights crying myself to sleep, struggling to be close to the Spirit but constantly questioning why I could not experience the same blessings in the same time frame. Then there was the issue of financing the mission...my parents are converts to the church, and with my four siblings, it hasn't been the easiest just providing for everyone, much less paying for me to go on a mission. So I went and got a proper job to try and earn as much as I possibly could, continuing to wonder why some of my friends could just pick up and go. I'll even admit that I felt a great deal of jealousy for some of my friends. It has been a humbling experience to do something on the Lord's time frame when that time frame differs so drastically from my own. And I justified a lot of complaining, too, because the desire to go on a mission is such a genuinely good desire. I even began to doubt my Heavenly Father's love for me because of the timing -- why was I being required to sacrifice so much more to go? Was I not as good as the people I knew who were leaving within a few months of the announcement?

Ultimately, with help from the Spirit, my family, and some dedicated friends, I've been humbled and brought to a better knowledge of my Heavenly Father's love for me. I also finally understand at least a small part of why I've had to go through the things I have, and it all comes down to the nature of sacrifice. As Latter-Day Saints, we believe that sacrifice is a vital part of our lives -- and not only do we believe that, we believe that we have been asked to make sacrifices because of what we believe. There are lots of different kinds of sacrifices, from those we make willingly like sacrificing our time or talents to serve others, and those that we are forced to make through the circumstances of our lives (there's a wonderful talk by Dallin H. Oaks about this topic that you all need to go read or listen to). The sacrifices we make refine us by teaching us about who we are and what we really value. When forced to give up something, do we turn in faith to the Lord, trusting that He knows all, or do we become angry or frustrated because we cannot understand why? There's an oft-quoted phrase that goes something like "our trials should make us better people, not bitter people."

The Lord is so eager and willing to bless us, even for the sacrifices we make for blessings. In sacrificing for the mission and actively pursuing it, I have been blessed with hundreds of mini and major miracles, too many to count or describe. I've been blessed with the knowledge that the Lord is preparing me to be a far better missionary than I could have been if I had left last year. I've been blessed to better develop and refine traits and abilities that I did not have a year ago. On top of all this, I've also been blessed with the knowledge that I will be able to enjoy and appreciate serving a mission more than I ever would have if I had not poured in all the time, sweat and tears that I have. It's not a competition to see who can get the most baptisms or who can leave first or who can go to the most exotic place in the world; it's an opportunity to get to know the Lord on an intensely personal level and draw closer to Him by focusing on loving His children 24/7 and spreading the infinite joy of the gospel, and I couldn't be more excited or grateful for the Lord's timing and plans.

If you are struggling with the sacrifices you have been forced to make, or when you feel tempted to look around and compare yourself to those whose lives seem infinitely easier than yours, remember that:

"Good timber does not grow with ease,

The stronger wind, the stronger trees.

The further sky, the greater length.

The more the storm, the more the strength.

By sun and cold, by rain and snow,

In trees and men good timbers grow."

Your Heavenly Father loves you infinitely more than you can imagine, and He is so proud of you for your personal growth and achievements. He does not compare us to others; why should we? I promise you that the sacrifices you make, either by choice or by the course of life, will bless you not only eternally but in this life. You can experience the happiness and peace that comes from doing the Lord's will, and you can be grateful to know that your Heavenly Father knows you and loves you well enough to want to refine you into the person He already knows you can become.