There is something incredibly agitating, frustrating, and somewhat terrifying about being in a limbo-type situation-- one where you can't move any direction until something that it out of your control comes in and fixes the problem.
To help illustrate my point, I'm going to create a lovely little analogy for you.
So, on a mission, you and all the other missionaries are all in the same boat. You all left the Home Shore to be on this boat. You're all doing the same thing, following the same rules, answering to the same person, etc etc. It might have taken you awhile to get adjusted to this boat-life-- it's different from your comfy life on the Home Shore, but you adjusted. You got used to this boat-life and all the people on it. It became familiar. You made friends. It was a welcoming and loving community. You were happy. You loved it. It became home.
Now, this boat-- this Missionary Boat-- was never a permanent living place, and you knew that. It became your home even though you knew you'd leave eventually. But when a missionary has to leave early, they end up on their own tiny boat with nobody else-- like those little lifeboat things. There might be other people in their own lifeboats in the same waters, but they aren't known unless they make themselves known, and that doesn't happen very often.
So, basically, that was me. I've been alone in my own little limbo lifeboat, stuck between the Missionary Boat and Home Shore. It became very depressing very quickly. I couldn't get back to the Mission Boat, but I didn't belong to the Home Shore. I was stuck in my little limbo lifeboat. I went from working on a strict schedule every day to being practically bed-ridden due to pain and exhaustion. That sort of change can seriously affect someone on mental, emotional, and spiritual levels. Not to mention the illness itself of having a tumor on a gland that controls your body's chemical levels-- that doesn't really help either.
Meanwhile, I try to make a decision about where I want to go. Do I want to travel permanently to the Home Shore, or do I want to row my way back to the Missionary Boat? I don't know if that sounds like a simple decision to you or not, but you'll have to trust me when I say it started tearing me apart. I loved my mission. I loved the area, I loved the work, I loved the people. I had friends. I felt like I belonged. Yet the longer I stayed off the Missionary Boat, the more I realized how much a toll all that work had taken on me. Adjusting to missionary life was not easy for me. I fought my way through a lot of trials and problems. The first 12 weeks of my mission were a living nightmare. And even though I got through it and ended up loving my life there, I don't know if I could do that again. I had no way of knowing if I'd have the same problems or if I'd be able to handle it better the 2nd time around. My whole life was a giant unknown.
So when you pair those worries with the emotional distress of being in a limbo lifeboat, then add in a friggin tumor that screwed up my body and created this whole problem in the first place, I hope you can see my struggle. My desire to serve was still there, but the thought of returning to the Missionary Boat brought on intense feelings of anxiety and fear. I was brought to tears every time I had to talk about it. I had the dilemma of doing what I knew was right in terms of obedience and sacrifice and what I knew was right in terms of what is best for my health. In my heart, I felt that staying home and moving forward with my life would be the best thing for me. Yet when I went to the temple in search of guidance, I had very strong feelings leading me to think I should go back out on a mission. I was getting conflicting answers.
So I decided to wait. I decided to stay on my lonely little limbo lifeboat until I was in a better place to make a decision.
Fast-forward to just a few days ago. I've had the surgery required to removed the tumor, I'm on the road to recovery, but this decision is still eating at me. I've asked in prayer for the strength to do whatever God asks of me. I've begged for the ability to be happy about whatever life awaits me. I've requested peace for my soul. I've put my trust in the Lord.
Thursday morning, as all my friends on the Missionary Boat settled into their new homes at the end of transfer day, I gave myself a pep talk and made my way to the temple. I knew what I wanted. I wanted to stay home. I wanted to move forward and I didn't want to look back. Yet I also managed to humble myself enough to accept the fact that Heavenly Father might not agree with me. I told myself that if I needed to go back out to the Missionary Boat, then Heavenly Father would help me and everything would be okay. I recited my favorite scripture as I walked into the celestial room. "I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commanded." As I sat in prayer, I opened my heart and mind to the will of the Lord.
Wave after wave after wave of love immediately flowed over me. I was going to be okay. The 6 weeks I spent on the limbo lifeboat had humbled and strengthened me to the point where I was willing to follow any command I might be given. I was willing to go, I was willing to face my fears, but the waves of love crashing over me told me that I didn't have to. I didn't have to live on any boat anymore. I could go to the Home Shore without the risk of lost opportunities or blessings. As these waves continued to flow, it took all of my self-control not to break down sobbing in the celestial room. All the stress, all the unknowns, all the fears-- it was over. I was done. I could move on. I could live my life with no regrets.
And that's it. That's how I made my decision. My mission is over, and it was successful. I am truly converted to the gospel. I am a better person because of the experiences I had. I am a stronger person. I forgive more easily. I judge less. I try to find the best in people. I'm not perfect, but that's not the point. The point is to keep learning, keep growing, keep trying.
So that's what I'm going to do.
Thanks for reading.
Sally
