"It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters in the end"
Ernest Hemingway (American novelist; 1899 - 1961)
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DEEP REFLECTION
The days were few and fast. I remember a lot of time spent reflecting on the past two years as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, in awe of it all. I’d become so accustomed to the life and the culture, I felt like it would never end. Like how you're so used to going to school for so many years and then you graduate and you have to remind yourself that you don't have any homework. Change can be challenging, but then again, moving to Mexico was a change and I got used to it. The Mission had become such a norm that it was hard to think of anything existing before it, or anything awaiting after it. The person who I was presently and the person who was before wasn't the same person. Before, I was a quiet, shy kid whose greatest daily concern was the grade on his homework. I wasn’t a talker. I very much kept to myself. But now, although I still enjoy time to myself, I had a newfound love of people and teaching and giving back. I wasn't scared anymore. I felt invincible. I’d survived things that few people back home could have. I didn’t stress the little insignificant things anymore. No matter what lay in store, I had a solidified testimony that everything would always work out in the end.
The sands of time were all but depleted. Every night was the same, “What do I have to do tomorrow?”. Every night my head rested upon my pillow with that thought as I sank into a deep sleep. Every moment of the day racing to shoot my shot with the man on the corner or help the woman in her yard (See "Yard Work, Hard Work, Smart Work"). Seeking opportunities to make friends, to bring understanding, to lighten a burden, to spread a smile, to make the world a better place was all we aimed for.
I wasn’t the same person as before. Now I could carry out fluent conversations in Spanish. I’d learned almost every word in my dictionary and then some. I was a few inches taller. I was fiercely darker in color and had the noticeable farmer’s tans outlining my neckline and biceps; that kind of thing happens when there are few shade trees (See "Canícula"). I was always a skinny person, but even more so now. My features were thinner than ever. But my legs were tough and heavy as stone and the soles of my feet and the palms of my hands were impervious, or in the very least, indifferent to discomfort. Mosquitoes had no effect any longer. They bit less frequently, I noticed them less, and any bites they inflicted were completely healed within a day or two (See "Chikungunya & Other Trials"). I had little concern about sitting on a dirty sidewalk or getting mud on my pants. They were trivial things. There was no time to fret about such small things when all I wanted was to bask and take in all the positives that I'd been blessed with.
It’s hard to describe all the feelings that a missionary has leading up to going home. All I can say to summarize it is that I had much time to think. One of my absolute favorite things about the Mission is the time to just think. I think that's what largely drew me to the field of Psychology. Every morning we feasted on scripture, we taught thousands of lessons, we became acquainted with the common questions people had, some of which we never would have even thought of before, and came out with further light and knowledge. More than mere study, we got to see the gospel in action on a daily basis as it worked in different ways for very different people. Seriously, just being free from the distractions of life is so liberating. No TV, or video games, among other things. It’s no wonder missionaries mature and learn much faster than they otherwise could at home! It’s no wonder then that they come home more socially competent and responsible! It’s no wonder that you could take a few years of a foreign language in school and not speak a word and then become fluent like a native after ten months in the field! (See "Trainee to Trainer"). If you want to make the most of an experience, you have to be completely committed to it. I’d learned much but now I was preparing for that next chapter in life. I asked for some of the other Elders' thoughts, “How can I move on from the Mission so I don’t live in the past without completely ignoring that it happened?”. After all, even now, life as a missionary was so different from anything else I've ever done, it does seem like it happened to someone else every now and then, as if it were a dream I had one night. I got a few answers. I don’t know that there is one correct answer. But for me, I don’t want to forget 1) The people and 2) The purpose. I try to keep in contact with the members and converts, and even a couple who never joined the Church, to let them know that our friendship wasn’t a passing feat because I had to but because I wanted to be their friend. And also, to remember what I learned so that I might be all the better in the future. It’s a hard thing to altogether forget the Mission but we must understand and believe that the future holds even more lessons and experiences. The Mission is preparatory for life. So it is that I believe that it’s not wrong to remember the Mission and talk of it, but equally important is being enthusiastic about the future while remembering to live in the present. Life by the inch is a cinch, life by the yard is hard.
I remember my last Sunday in the Mexico, Reynosa Mission. It was July 3, 2016. Coincidentally, it was also Fast Sunday which gave me the opportunity to get up in church to bear my testimony (See "Fast" and "Roller Coaster of Emotions"). I had a heavy heart saying goodbye to these loving friends whom I’d only known for six weeks, but all in all, it was a peaceful heaviness, not a painful one, not like it once was the first time I left an Area in Rio Bravo so long before (See "Onward"). I felt like I’d done all I was supposed to do. I gave them my final testimony that Christ lives. That the gospel is true and blesses lives. I told them of my love for them and missionary work and that you ultimately don’t need a name tag to help others. Appropriately enough, the closing hymn was “God Be with You ‘til We Meet Again”. The other Elders nudged me on the shoulder as if to hint that it was a hymn selected especially for me.
FRIENDS
We'd had a few activities with all the missionaries in Valle Hermoso including Elder Brogan, Hermana Monson, and others at the other chapel in the West involving pizza, water balloon fights, volleyball, and fun (See "3rd Area: Riveras, Reynosa" and "6th Area: San José, Reynosa"). Because I was now among the missionaries highest in seniority, that meant that there were many missionaries that I never got to meet. I met some of them in Valle Hermoso. But just the same, even by the end of the first P-Day I spent with them, they felt like family (See "P-Days and Peceras"). Especially out of our white shirts and ties, it just felt like a bunch of friends getting together to have fun.
For my last P-Day, the guys insisted on doing whatever I wanted to do to make it special for me. I assured them that just being with them was its own reward but they insisted we go somewhere out of the ordinary to eat. But for the life of me, I couldn’t decide where to eat, I was really fine with anything. So after some walking around in the city center, we went to a diner and had hamburgers, fries, and coke. I could hardly believe that soon I wouldn’t have to resort to eating chicken, rice, beans, and tortillas for every meal! And furthermore, I was going to get to eat real hamburgers without ham! (See "Food, Glorious Food"). I was going to miss a lot of things but I was ready to welcome back the good things of home.
The picture below was taken in a cibercafé on my last P-Day in Mexico then 2 years then 5 years after being home. I think it just goes to show how dark, skinny, sweaty, and tired I looked by the end of it all. But then again, what do you expect? I got older!
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