Round 2: Transfers

Transfers were stressful times in and of themselves. As a missionary, every six weeks we had transfers, meaning that we had the possibility of switching areas, switching companions, both, or neither. Sometimes this can be a nerve-wracking time of the transfer because of so many unknowns. For others, the change was appealing (especially if the area that you were serving in or your companion was difficult). My first transfer I stayed in the same area, but I was to switch companions.

The fact that I was staying in the same area was comforting. After all, I knew the people, I knew the area, I knew what was going on. On the other hand, my trainer, who was leaving to another area, knew everyone and everything WAY better than I did. She had been there for several transfers and fit in really well with the Hispanics there. How would I be able to fill those giant shoes?

I was also getting a companion who was native to Mexico. Well, that was a blessing because she knew the culture firsthand and would be able to relate with them. However, she didn't start learning English until her mission, and we still covered an English ward. Not only would I be showing her around, introducing her to the area, I knew I wouldn't be able to communicate well with her. I knew some Spanish, she some English. We came from different backgrounds. Would I be able to do something like this? Oh, and on top of that, I now became the designated driver.

Did I ever mention that I really don't like driving? Truth.

Needless to say, I was really nervous about this transfer, which didn't help my depression nor my anxiety.

Then on the P-day right before transfers, my mom sent me an email that was just the slap in the face I needed, so to speak:

You have the strength in you.  It sounds easier that it is, but I know the Lord would not just leave you hanging.  You just need to rely upon him and try your best and GET OFF YOUR BACK!  Don't be so hard on yourself.  Yes it is hard and hot but your can pull up your britches and do what you have to.

Needless to say, I really needed this. It sounded exactly like what my mom would say and was the motivation I needed to keep going. I had the renewed hope that I needed to keep going. Aren't moms great that way?

So, Hermana Garcia became my companion. Seriously, she was such a sweet missionary. This ended up being probably the best transfer I had. Even though we both struggled with each other's language, the Spirit was able to make up for what our language couldn't. I would help her with English, and she would help me with my Spanish. I felt like we worked well together, and others around us could see that.

However, it was during this transfer that my anxiety started to mount. Instead of the normal one hour of language study, my companion was supposed to do two hours. On top of that, our mission president asked her to study how to drive for a half hour each day so that she could get her license in the States. Hermana Garcia was a very obedient missionary, so she did what she was asked to do. However, with all of the extra studying, we often didn't leave the apartment until 2:30 in the afternoon.

Everyday I grew more and more anxious. I felt like I wasn't being a real missionary because we didn't have many lessons with all the studying we had to do. I started even getting claustrophobic in our little apartment. During the day, window blinds had to be open. If possible, doors had to be open. Otherwise, I would feel trapped.

The Mesa Arizona temple had a Visitor's Center that was open to the public. Anyone could come in to learn about the LDS religion, about our temples, families, and God's love for His children. Certain sister missionaries are called to the Visitor's Center to work there daily. Hermana Garcia was one of them. Every Friday morning we had her VC (visitors' center) prep meeting. I can understand how they are helpful for VC sisters, but for someone like me who served full-filled (meaning that I strictly served in the community and not in the VC), the meetings didn't mean much. I honestly tried to get something out of them, but there was not much that I could apply into my own missionary efforts. For me, it was just one more meeting to sit through; one more thing to add to my anxiety. It through our Friday schedules completely out of whack. We had the meeting and wouldn't get home until about mid-morning (if I recall, it was probably about 10 or later). Then we had all of our studies to do, which we condensed because we also had at least three hours of weekly planning.

I began to really dislike Fridays.

The one blessing that came from the VC meetings was choir. I love to sing, always have, although my voice isn't the best. It allowed for some stress relief on those days. Not much, but it helped. To this day, however, if I hear those same songs that we sang then, I can't help but tear up at the memory of the anxiety I had when I first sang those songs.

Hermana Garcia quickly learned that I was struggling. After all, when you spend 24 hours a day everyday with someone, you learn quickly. Well, that and also that I was seeing a therapist at the time. It's not exactly something that I could hide. Perhaps one of the qualities I love best about Hermana Garcia is that she always wanted to help. She would ask me if there was anything she could do. Often, there wasn't, but it was nice to have someone around that cared. We did, however, find some ways to help me out. During our lunch breaks, I started wandering around the yard by our apartment to stretch my legs and get some sunshine. Sometimes we moved part of our studies to one of the local church buildings. The change of scenery really helped. Then, during our lunch breaks, we would play basketball in the gym. Neither one of us were particularly good, but it was fun and a break that I needed.

One of my favorite moments with Hermana Garcia happened one evening when she was having a hard day. It was a P-day. For whatever reason, she was just feeling emotionally off. We were to have a lesson with Nick, but she just didn't have the energy to for it. In fact, we had a few appointments for that evening, but we cancelled them all. Our plan was to possibly stay at home for the evening. Nick, being the amazing young man that he is, told us to come over even though Hermana Garcia was in her pajamas. We spoke to him through our car window. He and my companion got along really well, and he was able to cheer her up. Afterwards, I treated her out to a shake at Sonic. There was one really close to where we lived. By the way, the peanut butter chocolate shake literally became my favorite treat when I was in Mesa. Next, we went to a park, sat on the swings, and just talked. I think it was a healing moment for both of us. It's memories like these that made the mission worth it. We didn't go out to teach, but we were still able to serve each other. One thing I learned from that night is that your companion (or whoever you are close to) comes first. People are important.