Moments

I think we all have moments in our lives when things come into perspective. Some refer to this as an "ah-ha" moment. A moment of clarity and understanding. I've had a couple of those moments lately. And I think they are so important that I need to write about them.
I recently returned home from a full-time mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  Going on a mission was scary, and it took a lot of courage, but I don't think I was prepared for what it would be like to go home. After all, England WAS my home. The people and the members were my family. I knew my purpose there, and I felt I belonged. I hadn't thought a lot about what it would be like going home until it started to become a reality (about six weeks before I would leave).  Fear and anxiety, of course mixed with excitement and anticipation, crept into my thoughts every day.  I worried about my education, my social life, and how I would deal with so much free time!  But I think the thing that scared me the most about coming home was this:

Had my mission changed me?  Would I be different? Would the change that had taken place in my heart be evidenced in my actions?

 I had felt that I had been an instrument in the hands of God to help others to change. But change is such a strange process. It happens slowly, usually without us noticing it. After all, for someone who is trying to lose weight, it takes about 4 weeks to notice your body changing, 8 weeks for your friends, and about 12 weeks for the rest of the world. But how do you measure the change of heart? Can it even be measured at all? These were a few of the thoughts that crossed my mind prior to returning home.
My mission president's wife had made a comment to me that she had seen a change in me. And although that was comforting and nice to hear, I felt that I needed to notice it for it to be real.
As a result of this desire to KNOW if I had been changed, I spent a lot of time in my last six weeks studying about conversion and reflecting on the goals I had set at the beginning of my mission. I will never forget the amazing experience of hearing Elder Holland, an apostle of the Lord, speak at the Missionary Training Center. His words still ring in my mind...

Make sure you are God's investigator. He wants you to do what you want your investigators to do. He is trying to make sure that you are converted. I can demand and insist that there will be one convert. That is you! You WILL be a believer regardless. You will have this! It will become your DNA and you will be converted to the marrow of your bones. This is your rebirth, that mighty change. You embrace it! You give it all you've got. Jump into the pool, there is water in it and the Lord wants you to swim. Give the Lord a little bit and he will give you His all. Don't be a missionary that checks this off the list. Don't say, "I can't wait for real life..." THIS IS REAL LIFE! Capital R, Capital L. (Imagine him saying this with his hands holding onto the pulpit,almost shouting), There is NOTHING more real than what you're doing right now! You are NEVER to set this experience aside. It is to be a part of your soul forever. I can deal with a lot of things but I cannot deal with a missionary that comes home less active. 

The thought of coming home, not changed was the scariest thought of all. The only way to find out if I had changed, was to immerse myself back into non-missionary life again. The day I went home was one I'll never forget. I remember waking up feeling really sick to my stomach but excited for what the day would bring. It was a rush to get ready, putting on my carefully planned outfit, and heading out to the parking lot of the mission office. Here we made our final goodbyes, said a prayer and got in the car. I tried to take it all in. The beautiful sunrise that morning, all the types and makes of cars that I wouldn't see in America. The small roads, the greenery, and even the signs that marked the way to the airport. It was a perfect morning. I remember feeling like something was destined to go wrong that day, because it was all just too perfect! But it didn't. I said goodbye to my dear mission president and made my first steps toward home.
It was an exhausting day. Birmingham to Newark, Newark to Denver, and finally Denver to Boise. I had made some friends on the way. A nice man and his son who were going to Alaska for a cruise, and a girl in the Swatch store in Newark. I still had on my badge and I can recall just touching it many times throughout the day, cherishing these last moments that I still had that authority to preach the gospel.
Finally, the airplane descended, and the Boise airport came into view. I cannot put into words my feelings at this point. It felt like an eternity to walk but a nice lady who happened to be a member, walked alongside with me. Then I was living the moment that I had imagined for so long. I stood at those glass doors and walked/ran into the sweet, loving arms of my dear mother. Such joy I have never felt before! To see my family after so long and to hold them in my arms again. It would have been perfect if not for what I knew was coming next...the release.

Release (verb): To free from responsibility or duty, to free from confinement, bondage, obligation, pain, etc..

 It's a funny word choice actually. For some, I suppose it might feel like being free from confinement or bondage. But for me, it felt congruent to confinement. Okay, perhaps I'm being a bit dramatic...but that badge wasn't just a piece of plastic. It was a symbol of sacrifice and a reminder of the only One who is important.
Coming home from a mission almost feels like you've been dead for 18 months to 2 years, and then all the sudden you're alive again. I mean this in the best way possible! And in a strange way. It's a process of rediscovery. I have to remind myself that it's a process, because it can be frustrating. The first "moment" occurred when I was rummaging through all the things I had left behind in my bedroom. I was going through some photos when I came across a few that were taken only months prior to my missionary service. I don't know how to put this but I literally didn't recognize myself! I don't mean literally in the way that most teenagers use this word, as a filler, like "I was literally driving home from school and like..." I actually mean literally. For a split second, I thought, who is that girl? Then I realized it was me.

Matthew 6:22-23: "The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, they whole body shall be full of light. But if thine eye be evil, they whole body shall be full of darkness. If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!"

Now, don't get me wrong here. I'm not saying that I saw darkness in myself or that I was a bad person before my mission. But, I am saying, that goodness and virtue is visible. In my last area, we were teaching a Mike and Jean, a sweet old couple. So many times they told us how there was just something about our physical presence that was different, that we appeared to be glowing. I do believe that goodness is visible. It can be perceived by the eye, and oh, what a moment that was to perceive it in myself.