And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me, for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them
Ether 12:27
I think I can trace my latest and biggest meltdown to the time that I received my mission call and prepared for my mission. It's sad to say that something so wonderful could be the source of so much grief and pain. However, anyone who has served a mission or is preparing to serve knows that the adversary is working his hardest during this time. Satan will do anything to prevent servants of the Lord from sharing the gospel, and he knows our weaknesses. Looking back, I can see now how this challenge from the adversary has in fact been a blessing, for now my weakness is becoming strong. Before I get to that part, let me back up a little about some of the things that happened as I was preparing for a mission.
Growing up, I'd often thought about going on a mission, but I always wavered on the idea. One of my brothers served a mission in Germany, and since then, I've felt a small amount of pressure from my family to go. However, when it came down to it, I knew that it was my choice to go if I felt so impressed.
Then came the historical declaration from the prophet Thomas S. Monson, lowering the age for missionaries. The change was especially dramatic for sisters because now they could serve at age 19 rather than 21.
And I was 20.
I could go. Practically right then. Should I? Would I?
I especially remember that day watching General Conference in my apartment and hearing that announcement. All the girls around me were giddy and screaming with excitement. Me? My heart was pounding. Yes, I felt the excitement, but I also knew all of my fears, the fears that I had been battling since middle school. On top of all that, I was (and still am) shy. The idea of sharing the gospel with complete strangers, teaching them lessons and such, scared me. But everyone was excited to go. All my friends who were the same age as me immediately started making plans to serve, and everyone kept asking me if I would do the same.
I actually worked at the Missionary Training Center (MTC) at the time, and in between conference sessions I was working in the dishroom. The announcement was buzzing in my head that whole shift. On my way home, however, is when I received a very special answer from Heavenly Father about why I should serve a mission: that it would help me to teach my future children.
Whoa.
Most people, when they say they want to go on a mission, it's because they want to share the gospel that has so touched and changed their lives. They wanted to share the good news about Christ and his Atonement, about the Restored Gospel and Joseph Smith. Don't get me wrong, those were also reasons for me to go, but the one that gave me the courage to call my bishop to start the process was because of my future family.
Filling out all the online work came with it's own unique challenges. Since I wasn't at home, my mom ended up having to email or mail certain paperwork for doctors and dentists. At one point we had to fax some paper work over to the campus student health center, and somehow the paperwork got lost along the way. After making several treks to the health center (I say 'trek' because it's a bit of a distance for someone who doesn't have a car), they finally received the information and allowed me to continue with the process. I was emotionally drained at that point because of trying to jump through so many hoops just to fill out a bit of paperwork.
There are two moments in particular that I remember wondering if I was really ready for a mission. The first was filling out my health history. There was a question or two concerning depression and eating disorders, and having them in the past. Well, I knew that I definitely had many depressive moments, but, after all, everyone has their down days, right? Mine just occurred more frequently. I knew I also had a problem with food, but I had never been officially diagnosed with a disorder. Besides, I was over it. I wasn't starving myself anymore. I still sometimes had the mindset, probably more often than I would care to admit, but they didn't need to know about that. It was behind me, in the past. So I didn't say anything about it.
Then came the physical with doctor. She also asked me about being depressed. I told her that every now and then I got that way, but it was never debilitating or prevented me from doing the things I needed to do. I would still be able to function as a missionary.
So, without much more questioning, I finished up my paperwork and interviews finally (after a couple of months), pressed the 'submit' button, and waited.
The wait was awful, as it is with anyone waiting to receive their call, but I was also incredibly busy with preparing for finals. One would think that I would be too preoccupied with the anticipation of my mission call, but for some reason I wasn't. I had to focus on what was going on now, which was finals. I had also noticed myself mentally slipping into depression as the semester went on due to the high demands of my classes, and I didn't want to think about how maybe I perhaps wasn't ready for a mission.
What I was feeling then, however, was only a shadow of what I would feel after I had received my mission call.
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