Ya know how there are some days in your life that remain particularly memorable? Sometimes its the events of the day, sometimes its the date. Well. Today is one of my special days. June 20th, aside from having a bunch of cool solstice associations, also happens to be the anniversary of one of the most important days in my life. In 2007, ten years ago, I was dropped off at the MTC in Provo. I was a 19 year-old college Sophomore and I knew everything.
In the MTC while I was in training, Jun 29 2007, these are all the San Bernardino Missionaries who were there that day
I also knew nothing. I was a home schooled kid from a cul-du-sac in Utah. I could probably count the non-memebers I knew on one hand (not really, I wasn’t THAT isolated). And there I was, in the suit I would wear for two years (and still do occasionally), ready to go tell everyone that Christ loved them, died for them, and wanted to help them still.
To be fair I probably did know a little more than most. I had at least read all the scriptures cover to cover. I had graduated seminary and attended a church school. I knew stuff. What I really didn’t know was people
On that first day I met this guy, my first missionary companion. Who remains one of my good friends all these years later. I’m not sure any of the other 14 companions I had understood my personality and struggles the way Scott did.
The three of us all went to the same mission on the same day, all learned Spanish.
I spent two years in San Bernardino California, the only place in the world that I ever mused that I wouldn’t want to be a missionary. (I drove through it shortly after submitting my missionary application. While stopped at a gas station in Victorville I looked around and said to myself, “man, I hope I don’t get sent here”).
One the baptisms I was able to participate in. All of the daughters have since been baptized too.
Elder Priest teaching a convert how to tie a corbata
I learned Spanish. I learned doctrines and scriptures. I learned arguments and apologetics and theology. And I found that most of that didn’t help. I was serving a population of immigrants, many of them illegal, many who couldn’t read and most who didn’t know most of doctrines they professed to follow. They didn’t care what Paul had prophesied about them or the distinction between fore ordination and predestination. They just wanted to know that God loved them, to have friends, and a place to find peace. So I humbled myself and learned to make children smile.
Its been ten years since I walked boldly out the door of that orientation room and left my family behind for that two year adventure. Eight years ago (plus three days). I came home. I loved people more easily. I was enthusiastic about life. I wanted so desperately to now prove in my own life that living the gospel makes your life better. I’ve stayed close to the LDS church and seen some of the greatest religious buildings in the world. I’ve completed two of the three great christian pilgrimages. I’ve been to dozens of temples. I’ve seen the devotion of faithful people in a wide variety of congregations and countries both in my religion and out. I certainly know more of the creeds and doctrines than I did back then. And it hasn’t changed. Most people don’t worry about all that stuff. They just want to know that God loves them and how to be happy.
Somethings haven’t change. I still ride my missionary bike. I still have my black socks and use them. Todavia estoy lleno de amor por los imigrantes de California. The Book of Mormon is still the most important book I’ve ever read and finds itself not on my shelf with my past but on my table, open, surrounded by the activities of the day. I still believe and do my best to practice the things I tried to teach all those years ago.
June 20, 2009, I had three days to go before my flight home.
I don’t begrudge my mission at all. It’s value in my life remains incalculable. I was so lucky to have that experience. Even now, after all that I have done and seen, if I were called to go back, even back to hot dusty San Bernardino, I would do it. Because if you learn anything from missionary life, its how to get up and go to work with the faith that even when everything is against you miracles still happen.
June 23, 2009. I flew back to Salt Lake to be picked up by my parents.
My group of missionaries about to go home after two years. Same group as in the earlier photo.
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