Change is in the air, which is exciting, because I need one. I've never been quite a fan of change. Change is more like that distant cousin that you avoid at family functions, who owns a pet ferret, and constantly has something in his teeth that makes you stare at his nose or forehead when conversing with him, trying to avoid all abnormalities. Change is kinda like him. They mean well. But don't always come across so warm and pleasant.
Everyday I realize I'm leaving and it gets a little more scary, exciting and stomach gnawing. The past couple of weeks there is a battle going on in my head. It's not necessarily anything that makes sense, no reasoning, but it's more like static and a feeling of uneasiness. Nothing necessarily makes sense. It's a feeling of unknown change. Nothing really legitimate. Just noise. Static. Distractions. Doubt. Fear.
The opposite of everything that means anything.
So, at a lunch with my friends, we decided to write little notes to my brain.
"This is so normal" on my finger.
"God wants a powerful people" in my car.
"Bring me to my people" on my heart.
And random words on post-it notes, placed all over my house.
Of course after that, Heavenly Father gave me little moments to remind me why I'm going, and get me excited again.
Getting gas on the way home from a BBQ with friends, I ran into the elders. Elders I hadn't ever met before. But that's the thing about missionaries; you feel like you've always been friends. So in mid conversation when I blurted out "I'm putting my papers in!" it seemed totally acceptable, because we'd been friends forever remember? They were really excited.
"But I'm scared..."
"That's good. I had a friend who thought he had it in the bag. He felt ready. He feel accepted. He felt on top of the world; not a nerve in his body. He ended up hating the MTC. Nerves are good. They mean you're willing and open and ready for change. Keep the nerves. Be scared. Let yourself be molded into who you are meant to be."
At lunch with Sister Preston, we talked about regrets, change, life itself. She said, "Nicole, I've had a great life. I have great kids, have seen the world, married my sweetheart. I have one regret; not going on a mission. If I could do it all over again I would do everything exactly the same, except I would have gone on a mission."
Reading Lyndsi's blog, and hearing her talk about every emotion I'm feeling, I find comfort in knowing I'm not alone. A little sample:
Preparing for a mission is dang hard people.
I’m a mess.
Everyone has different forms of opposition, here’s one of mine:
I feel so disjointed, as if there were a war going on in my head in a language I don’t understand. It is the strangest form of opposition I have ever felt. It doesn’t translate to words.
It is not “You are not good enough.”
It is not “Stay home. This isn’t what you want.”
It’s just hdjiowprheiiaopgnedklsa;jfdioapefkwla—like radio static, like I am involuntarily distracted by something I can’t identify.
Because I know how to battle the first two. I know how to talk them down because I’ve dealt with them in other parts of my life. I know why they are wrong. But how do I talk-down a scattered jibbering brain that cannot seem to think clearly or extensively about anything? It makes it hard to coherently read and study the things I’m supposed to be reading and studying. It makes it hard to write or listen or feel peace. It makes me feel powerless, like nothing I do could be big enough, like I have no choice but to be an achy static-brain, negative and confused and completely ineffective. I feel alone.
That is Wrong. False.
I wish I had the profound all encompassing answer to replace it with, but I don’t. I have no idea what I’m doing here.
All I know is: This is hard. Keep going.
I can’t just stop and wallow and expect this to pass over me. I have to keep going. Keep choosing. People need to know that this happens. Opposition happens. It doesn’t mean you’re wrong or weak or bad at life. It means your normal. Did you know that? Completely Normal.
I could not have known then that everybody, every person has to leave, has to change like seasons; they have to or they die. The seasons remind me that i must keep changing and I want to change because it is God's way. All my life I've been changing. Everybody has to change or they expire. Everybody has to leave their home and come back so they can love it again for all new reasons. And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves. ...It might be time for you to go. It might be time to change, to shine out.
I want to repeat one word for you: Leave.
We get one story, you and I, and one story alone...and you will not be alone. You will never be alone. Don't worry everything will still be here when you get back, it is you who will have changed.
Well when you look at it that way, it doesn't seem so bad...
Well when you look at it that way, it doesn't seem so bad...