I'm Still Me

Things I liked before the mission: 50's diners, soccer, sad movies, playing the piano.
Things I like now: 50's diners, soccer, sad movies, playing the piano.
Nicaragua changed me, but not that much. 

I understand that this is kind of a tough spot for everyone to be in. Nobody knows what to say because maybe they've never been in this situation before. 

Let me help you: Treat me like a normal human being. 

I'm home. Everyone knows I'm home. I'm not hiding anything, so don't treat me like I am. I don't need those awkward looks of sympathy and confusion from across the room. Come over, say hi, ask me how I'm doing, ask about Nicaragua. I might tear up a little bit, but that's because I miss Nicaragua! I loved my mission! I could talk about it for days! I'm not ashamed of anything. If you have a question, ask!

I'm not planning on becoming a recluse and hiding in a dark corner in my house. I am going to live my life. I am going to hang out with my friends here in Tucson. I am going to run errands for my mom. I am going to visit the doctors and do my physical therapy. But in between all that, I'm going to be out and about, living life just like I did before. Just because I came home early from my mission does not mean I don't have the right to enjoy my life. 

Men are that they might have joy. There isn't a conditional clause there saying "Men are that they might have joy, unless they came home early from their mission." Happiness is a choice. I choose to be happy - wherever I am. I'm still me. 

Coming Home

January 24, 2015, I received my mission call: Nicaragua Managua North Mission. That day, all I could think was, “Nicaragua? How random! Nobody even thinks about Nicaragua!” Then, July 6 of this year, I set foot in the country that would forever change my life.

It was dang hot. I sweat more than I would care to tell you. I tripped over drunk men lying in the street, ran away from stray dogs that personally targeted us, squealed of excitement every Monday when I got to hear from my family, ate enough rice to last a lifetime, got a nice tan, and cried over the extreme poverty. I spent my mornings studying, and the afternoons walking and teaching. I helped 10 people enter the waters of baptism. I learned the language, I learned how to live with a companion by my side 24/7, and I learned what it meant to submit my will to the Father’s.

At least I thought I had learned that. Then I was told to go home.

I have had knee problems since I was 15 and was in training for a backpacking trip.

I have had back problems since I was in a car accident last March.

When I applied for a mission, I shared in detail what the problems were and what treatment I had received.

I was still called to Nicaragua.

I walked about 10 miles a day, through the rain forest, the dusty dirt roads, and the paved roads of the city. At first, everything was fine. I experienced the normal aches and pains that come with being a missionary.

But then my knee started clicking with every step. The inflammation was real. My back hurt so bad I sometimes couldn’t walk. I sometimes couldn’t breathe.

I told myself they were all part of the mission experience. This is a sacrifice I have to make in order to submit my will to the Father’s, in order to show Him how much I am willing to give for Him.

My companion disagreed. She made me call the nurse after about a week of the severest pain I have ever experienced.

The nurse cried with me as she told me what we could do to relieve some of the pain, but that the outcome wasn’t looking very positive.

I rested for 1 week. I iced my knee diligently, I laid in bed so as to not strain my back, and I took the pain relievers I was prescribed.

Nothing helped.

We had lost a week, and had to get back to work. I told myself to suck it up. I only had 1 year left. I’m strong, and I knew that with God’s help, I could endure.

My companion would have none of it. She made me go to the hospital.

Nicaragua is great and all, but their medical care is garbage. I told the doctor how much pain I was in, and all he did for me was hand me a ton of pills. One of those pills ended up being a very strong sedative that knocked me out for 2 days. Even that didn’t remove the pain. I went back to the hospital, and the doctor told me there was literally no other option. They didn’t have the medical care I need, and he told me to go home.

That night, sad and with nothing to do, I picked up a church magazine and read an article on patience – a virtue that I have always been lacking. The article was about a missionary being extended a medical release and him asking why. There was one phrase in there that really hit me:

“The Lord cares just as much about His instrument as He does about the task at hand.”

I spent all my time thinking about the people of Nicaragua. I focused on the work. The only time I thought about myself was when I asked God what else I could improve in order to be a better missionary. I told myself my mission wasn't about me - it was about the people. 

Turns out it was about me.

My mission president called me in to talk to me the next day. He told me I can’t continue wasting time laying in the house, that there is work that needs to be done, and I am impeding it. He asked me what I thought was best. I was sobbing as I told him I knew I needed to go home. We then filled out the medical release request and sent it to Salt Lake. I got on a plane 4 days later.

My mission president asked me if I had any questions for him. I did.

Why did I receive such strong revelation to go on a mission if I was just going to get sent home 6 months into it?

Here’s what he told me: Satan will try to tell me that I was a failure. He will try to tell me that I didn’t do anything in Nicaragua and it was all a waste of time. He told me to reject those thoughts the second they come into my head. He assured me that I did my part. I worked hard, and I learned more of the love my Heavenly Father has for me.

When I got home, I asked my stake president the same thing.

He told me that the time I spent in the field is irrelevant. This is about me following my Savior. By accepting the call to go on a mission, I showed Him quite a bit of faith and willingness to do as He says. But coming home early after falling in love with the mission - that shows even more of my willingness to follow Him.

This is by far the hardest thing I have ever had to go through. Saying goodbye to the people in Nicaragua broke my heart. They all gave me tight hugs and thanked me for my testimony and service.

They also all said the exact same thing: God has plan for you.

After hearing it about 30 times, it started to stick.

There is a reason I’m home. I have no idea what that reason is, but I am along for the ride to find out.

My faith in God is the strongest it has ever been. I know He loves His children and gives them just what they need.

I always told my investigators that life is hard, but that God helps us through it all.

I guess it’s time for me to learn that for myself.

Getting home last night was surprisingly peaceful. I hugged my family with tears in my eyes, but was immensely grateful for their support. I was extended a medical release by my stake president, then took off my nametag. My time as a missionary has been put on pause. Depending on what the doctors say, I may be able to return to missionary service. That is my hope and prayer, but I also trust in the will of the Father. He knows best.

Now, I’m in Tucson, freezing cold. I went from 95 degrees and intense humidity to a super dry 51 degrees. My body is slowly adjusting.

I slept in my sister’s room last night so I felt like I still had a companion.

My heart longs for Nicaragua, and I hope I find myself back there soon.

But for now, I need to take care of my health and find the reason why I’m home.

Love, Lauren