Once upon a time two years ago
Two years ago today, my family van pulled up along a rather nondescript curb somewhere in the middle of Provo, Utah. I was excited. I was terrified. I was completely naive of what the next 18 months would hold. And yet I knew I was doing the right thing.
After a final round of hugging, I said goodbye to my family. A friendly young woman met me, took my luggage in her charge, and led me away from my waving parents. From everything I'd ever known. Into a place that would change my world.
And almost before the tears had dried off my cheeks, I found myself in a large room full of smiling people. A black piece of plastic was thrust into my hand, and I looked down at it. "Сестра Nay." That was me now. As I clipped it to my shirt, I felt a thrill. This was happening! I was becoming a missionary.
Soon I found myself in a tiny, cinder block room with a few other people. The people I would be spending all my time with for the next 9 weeks. The people that would become my dear friends. The people I needed and that needed me. We introduced ourselves, trying out the feel of our new names and titles on our tongues. Trying to respond to something we'd scarce been called by anyone ever.
"I'm Sh . . . Sister Nay."
"And I'm Sister Lewis."
And with that, it begin. We began the journey of praying in broken Russian, our entire district kneeling in a circle while one nervous missionary at a time stared at the book on the floor and sounded out words of thanks and pleading. We began planning gospel lessons. We began teaching. We began feeling the powerful love for others that God gives to his missionaries. We began to understand who we were as God's chosen servants.
That first afternoon, we sang a song that became one of the anthems for my mission--"We are as the army of Helaman. We have been taught in our youth. And we are now the Lord's missionaries, to bring the world his truth."
And so we were. Through the course of those nine weeks, we learned to fit into our badges, into our titles. We began to understand what it meant to be a missionary. We learned a few words of Russian. We learned what it meant to develop eternal relationships. And we came to know our God on a level deeper than ever before.
I'm grateful I left that curb two years ago. Because by doing so I entered what became a sacred place for me. And a sacred time of my life.
After a final round of hugging, I said goodbye to my family. A friendly young woman met me, took my luggage in her charge, and led me away from my waving parents. From everything I'd ever known. Into a place that would change my world.
And almost before the tears had dried off my cheeks, I found myself in a large room full of smiling people. A black piece of plastic was thrust into my hand, and I looked down at it. "Сестра Nay." That was me now. As I clipped it to my shirt, I felt a thrill. This was happening! I was becoming a missionary.
Soon I found myself in a tiny, cinder block room with a few other people. The people I would be spending all my time with for the next 9 weeks. The people that would become my dear friends. The people I needed and that needed me. We introduced ourselves, trying out the feel of our new names and titles on our tongues. Trying to respond to something we'd scarce been called by anyone ever.
"I'm Sh . . . Sister Nay."
"And I'm Sister Lewis."
And with that, it begin. We began the journey of praying in broken Russian, our entire district kneeling in a circle while one nervous missionary at a time stared at the book on the floor and sounded out words of thanks and pleading. We began planning gospel lessons. We began teaching. We began feeling the powerful love for others that God gives to his missionaries. We began to understand who we were as God's chosen servants.
That first afternoon, we sang a song that became one of the anthems for my mission--"We are as the army of Helaman. We have been taught in our youth. And we are now the Lord's missionaries, to bring the world his truth."
And so we were. Through the course of those nine weeks, we learned to fit into our badges, into our titles. We began to understand what it meant to be a missionary. We learned a few words of Russian. We learned what it meant to develop eternal relationships. And we came to know our God on a level deeper than ever before.
I'm grateful I left that curb two years ago. Because by doing so I entered what became a sacred place for me. And a sacred time of my life.
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