Let me set a backdrop...
Two years ago today, I was in Box Elder, South Dakota,
serving as a full-time missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
It was a Friday, and it was a day I had been denying would ever come.
I had been fighting through illness for 5 months,
spending many days a week in doctor's offices
and frequent calls with my mission nurse and my mission mom.
(These women are living proof of angels administering among us.)
My aching fear every day was that I would receive a call from my mission president, telling me that I was going home early.
Two weeks prior to this Friday, my body had very little strength.
Going out and working for more than 3 hours at a time completely exhausted me,
and forced my body to shut down.
I had a hard time keeping food down, or eating anything, really.
I had been fighting daily migraines for months now, but they got increasingly worse.
A week prior to this Friday,
I had even more trouble with keeping food down,
my migraines were consistent,
I was developing ulcers in my throat and on the roof of my mouth,
my vision was blurring (more blurry than normal, I should say!),
and my skin constantly hurt to touch.
On Wednesday, January 29, I went to my doctor, because my mission president had told me to.
My dear companion, and members from the ward I was serving in,
had reached out to my mission president and informed him of how sick I really had been.
My doctor, unaware of the purposes or schedule of missionaries,
told me that my body was clearly attacking itself because it was not able to rest.
I asked her how I could become better quickly,
and her response was "Sleep. For two weeks straight. And don't do anything else."
I thought, "Sweet! President will definitely let me just sleep in the mission home for two weeks, stick my companion with another companionship, and I'll be good to go."
I had received multiple priesthood blessings,
which promised that the Lord was aware of me and my desires,
and that if I was obedient
to the counsel of my doctors, and my mission president, I would be healed.
This was my test-and I would be the most obedient missionary that mission had ever seen!
My plan was not the Lord's plan.
After my doctor's appointment, and a quick lesson with one of our less actives, I called my mission president to deliver the good news of how I could be healed.
His response was not what I wanted. It took my breath away.
He said, "Sister Rodriguez, you need to come speak with our mission doctor about your condition.
I also will contact Salt Lake about you staying here.
I am afraid they may not let you stay."
The drive into the mission office
was one of the longest drives of my life,
and it was because I knew the Spirit was preparing me for what was to come
.
Our mission doctor explained to me that I was too sick,
and my health was obviously not improving.
Since I could not perform normal missionary duties,
it was impossible for me to be 100% obedient,
because my body couldn't let me.
My desire was there, but I was hindering the Lord's work because of my lack of health.
His suggestion to missionary headquarters was that I return home,
6 months early,
with the hope that I could return to the mission field
if my health improved within 2-6 months.
I disagreed entirely.
The last thing I wanted was to go home.
I loved being a missionary, I never wanted to stop being a full-time missionary.
I cried, and cried, and cried, and the doctor softly asked me to pray about it.
Oh, how I prayed.
I had a steady stream of reasons why I should stay in the mission,
how I could stay in the mission,
and who needed me in the mission.
As soon as I stopped telling God what I wanted,
and gave a second for Him to tell me,
I received the clearest, quickest, and most difficult answer I have ever had.
And again, my plan was not the Lord's plan.
I cried to the Lord,
I told Him all that I feared and was concerned about.
The Spirit strongly confirmed that it would all work out.
Thursday was a waiting game.
President had spoken to headquarters, and we were waiting for a response.
My mission president had instructed that my companion and I stay in that day,
as my health was not well enough to be out proselyting.
I had done everything I had been asked to do
so that I could remain in the mission field, and this was now out of my hands.
Friday came, and my mission mom called.
I knew as soon as I heard her voice that I was going home.
My mom and my stake president had already been contacted,
and I would fly out Tuesday morning to Salt Lake City to begin healing my body.
To say my heart was broken, I'm not sure that does it justice.
I loved being a missionary.
I had always planned to serve a mission, and to help bring others to the Savior.
I gave everything I had,
and desired nothing more than to serve my God,
and yet, He was sending me home.
And then the plethora of other anxieties began to cross my mind.
What would people think of me?
What rumors would surface about my service?
About my worthiness?
Would people look at me different?
Would I ever be lovable by a worthy priesthood holder?
How will I explain this in a way others could clearly understand?
My friends?
My family?
My future children?
Would my mission friends view me as a failure?
Would my people I am teaching think that I gave up on them?
Will they give up on me?
Will they give up on themselves?
Will the Lord accept my service, when I served with all my heart, might, mind, and soul,
but not the full 18 months I had been called to serve?
Will I ever receive a calling again?
What did I do wrong?
How could I have been more obedient?
Why is the Lord doing this to me?
Does God even love me?
Because, I thought, if He loved me, He would have healed me.
He would not make me do this.
Fast forward 2 years.
At the time, I thought this was the end of my life.
I genuinely believed this experience would kill me.
Surprise!!!
It didn't.
Because this was part of God's plan.
And even though my finite vessel couldn't handle it, He could.
I consider my experience of coming home among my most tender experiences.
Be it according to the will of the Lord.
But behold, our work is not yet finished;
(Alma 14:13)
Things I've learned about returning home early from your mission honorably:
What God thinks of you,
and what you think of you,
is much more important than what anyone else could think of you.
An early release is not a label to classify you as unworthy or unlovable.
If anything, it is an opportunity for you to shine through a very humbling trial.
It is God's plan, and that is nothing to be ashamed of.
Returning home from a mission,
that you have fully immersed yourself in the work,
is hard-regardless if you served the full expected time or not.
It is a new world.
You have experienced such sacred and holy things,
and almost suddenly, it feels like the Spirit is no longer with you in the same way.
When in reality, the Spirit is now holding you differently.
The methods of maintaining your relationship
with your Heavenly Father will change, but it doesn't have to dissolve.
I spent a lot of time being angry, hurt, and distancing myself from my Heavenly Father.
I felt like He was punishing me, so I was going to punish Him back.
But He was loving me, not punishing me.
So love God, and keep Him near.
He gives us obstacles and adversity
because He loves us,
and He will never leave us alone.
I was really discouraged,
and so were the elders who had given me blessings,
to see that my priesthood blessings were not being fulfilled.
However, they were-just not in the ways I was looking for them.
Heavenly Father is aware of me,
He is aware of my desires.
Something I also struggled with was that if I was obedient,
I would be healed.
Here I am, two years later,
and my body still has not returned to how it was before.
It probably never will.
But my heart has been healed.
My spirit has healed.
And I have repented, and received forgiveness.
When I face hard things, I put walls up and block people out.
The people I am closest to will be pushed away.
But there are angels among us, that push through those walls to love us.
My mission mom, mission nurse, and my companion and members were proof of that.
And upon returning home,
I had people that loved me,
even when I was broken, angry, and tired.
It is said that those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind.
Love the people that love you.
And let them show you how to love yourself.
There is a lot of doubt when you come home
if what you gave was truly enough for the Lord,
if you gave enough,
and if He'll accept it.
Heavenly Father loves us.
And His value and judgements are far more than our mortal eyes can see or understand.
Your mission does not end when you take off your name tag.
Being a full-time missionary is a workshop that prepares you
to be a lifelong disciple of Jesus Christ.
It is extremely difficult for the Lord's refinement in a noisy world.
Partake of the blessings from taking Christ's name upon you,
and call down the blessings of heaven.
"When I feel jealous of someone else's opportunity, calling, influence, or position, am I really just telling God that I don't have faith in what He is doing with me?"
-Brad Wilcox
I struggled with this jealousy,
and sometimes I find myself still feeling jealousy of other's.
Other people that have the opportunity to serve their full-time as missionaries.
Others influences being greater than mine.
The steps others easily have placed before them,
when I can't even find the next footstep for me to move to.
"Consider the possibility that God sees the potential for your life
in a way that you have not seen yet -- or are afraid to see.
He is ready for you to choose to become the person He has always known you to be."
-Laurel Christensen
Try looking at your life through God's eyes,
instead of your own.
