A note from dad- a story and a challenge

 Hello Hermana!

Just a quick note to let you know I deposit money into your checking account, so the balance is back up to $500 as of today.

 

I have spent some time thinking about your progress and the different phases and transitions of missions and missionary work.  You have by far, gone through the most difficult phase of a mission!  No, that does mean that easy days are ahead, but with proper perspective, it will be easier to smile and press forward!  I want to encourage you to now begin to start finding other missionaries to support, just as you received support through your beginning phases.  This challenge, if headed, will bring you joy and self-confidence.  Let me present it to you with a story I listed to from Hank Smith’s Come Follow Him podcast:

 

“This comes from Elder H. Ross Workman. This is from a 2003 New Era, and he talks about his mission. He was a member of the 70 when he told this story. This was a long time ago. He was in college. He had a good parttime job, he was engaged and was going to be married in just a couple of months. Life was good. The future looked bright. He says, "I was very surprised when my stake president pulled me aside on a Sunday morning and said, "The Lord wants you to serve a mission." He said, "I felt powerfully impressed that this call was from God." I acted upon that impression and committed to serve. I was called to serve in the Southern States mission. I quit my job, I left the university, I postponed my wedding for two years. Wow. I said goodbye to my loved ones. I was leaving everyone and everything that mattered to me.

 

I traveled by train many hours to Atlanta, Georgia. Two missionaries picked me up and drove me to meet the mission president. He greeted me for a few moments and then told me I must leave immediately by bus to Montgomery, Alabama where I would be given instructions about my area. The same elders who had picked me up took me to the bus station, handed me a piece of paper with an address on it. They told me to meet the missionaries in Montgomery, they would tell me what to do. All right. So, he walks tentatively to the bus station, bought a ticket and got on the bus. It was getting dark and I was feeling very alone. I found an empty seat next to a window and tried to ignore the growing discouragement from not knowing where I was going or what I would do. When the bus driver took his seat, he stared at me in the rear view mirror. He walked to where I was sitting and shouted, "What are you trying to do, boy?" I was shocked that he would shout at me with all the people on the bus watching. I had no idea why he was angry. I barely whispered, "I'm just trying to ride the bus." He yelled, "Are you trying to start something here?" He then pointed to a white line on the floor of the bus that I hadn't noticed. He told me to sit in front of that line or he would put me off the bus. I was terrified and I moved immediately. I did not know until much later that in those days, the white lines divided the areas where the White and Black people could sit. There was segregation in that area, and the driver thought I was trying to start a protest. All right. So, things are not starting off super well. He said, "I rode for several hours huddled in the bus, trying to fight off fear, loneliness, and now embarrassment." By the time I reached Montgomery, my trembling hands could barely lift my suitcases. The bus arrived late at night. The bus station was empty. There was no one there to meet me. The only information I had was an address that the missionaries had given me back in Atlanta. I had no idea how to find the address. There's no GPS, there's no map.

 

He said, "I awakened a taxi driver who was sleeping in his taxi and asked him if he could take me to the address on the paper. He was irritated. He told me how much it would cost. I promised to pay the fee even though it seemed outrageously expensive." Right? I mean, what other options do you have? He then drove me fewer than a hundred yards and announced, "You're here." He demanded his fee and left me and my suitcases in front of a small white house. The house was dark. I carried my suitcases to the porch, knocked on the door. Nobody came to the door. I knocked loudly. After a few minutes, a very sleepy eyed missionary opened the door. "Who are you?" He asked. When I told him who I was and why I was there, he said he didn't know I was coming and he didn't invite me in. Well, I apologized and told him I was just doing what I was asked to do. "We don't have any room for you," he said. Me, still on the porch, "What do you want me to do, Elder?" I cried.

 

"I've been sent here, I have nowhere else to go." He finally invited me into the house and told me I'd have to sleep on the kitchen floor. Then he disappeared into his bedroom. Never had I felt so alone, unwanted, and discouraged. I put my suitcases on the filthy kitchen floor and turned off the light. I was too discouraged to sleep, so I stood at the door and peered out the window. I could see the bus station that I had left only a few minutes before. I could just walk there and buy a ticket home. I had enough money left. All of my joys, hopes and dreams were back at home. People there loved me. I could have my old job back, I could go back to my school, I could see my family and I could get married. Over and over again I thought, "Go home. Nobody here cares about you. Nobody here wants you." Then I asked myself, why did I come here in the first place? My stake president's words came back to me, "The Lord wants you to serve a mission." I had felt a powerful impression when he said that to me. I had had that feeling so strong I postponed my wedding. I quit my job. I had left my school so I could serve a mission. I had known that the Lord wanted me to serve. Then he said, "Being in the mission field was not at all like I thought it would be. Looked like nothing on the videos. I had been sure once, but now when I needed divine reassurance the most, those powerful feelings were just a memory. I was in the process of making a very important choice. It was a choice between what I wanted and what the Lord wanted. It was the first time in my memory that I had recognized so clear a choice. I spoke to myself."