Leap of Faith, Step of Fear

I can’t sleep. It’s 1am and my brain won’t stop. So what do I do? I write. What’s keeping me up you might wonder? How about the thought that I have an entire life ahead of me and I’m afraid. 

I’m getting married to my best friend of 5 years and high school sweet heart in 3 weeks. As much as it should terrify me, I’ve taken should out of my vocabulary. It doesn’t scare me. In fact, it keeps me going most days. It keeps me going because right now, life is almost unbearably hard. 

I just returned home from serving an LDS mission just 2 and a half months ago. I jumped straight into school and am taking 15 credits, all online, while working a full time job. For a while I was coaching soccer as well. I bit off more than I could chew. But now, I don’t have an option but to chew. So I put the aching jaw aside. 

I wish that’s why I were up tonight. Tonight my mind contemplates my career path. My whole life I wanted to be a teacher or a nurse. Two very different things right? Well, I chose nurse. They run in the family. Mom was a nurse, so was grandma, and so was great grandma. Now it was my turn. Right? Before my mission I studied at BYUI and tossed around the idea of being a physical therapist instead. I went on a mission and I tossed around the idea of dozens of other career options. I couldn’t decide. Right before returning home I decided nursing. “That’s a safe bet right? This world will always need nurses. I’ll always have a job opportunity. Right?” Wrong! What this world really needs is someone who is passionate about whatever they decide to do in life, no matter what. 

I was taking two tests this past weekend. At the end of submitting both of them, tears flooded my face as I saw the scores. Scores that didn’t reflect my knowledge or passion for those particular subjects. Scores that now put me inside a box to tell me if I was good enough or not to move forward in my dream of health care. Those scores seemed to scream and me and say “you’ll never be good enough.” 

I struggle with school. I understand more than I’ll ever show on paper. I have a passion far greater than you’ll see in a score. I love to learn. I love to grow and try new things with my education. But you’ll never know it by putting me into a box. I have struggled my whole life with test taking and assessments. I don’t know why, I study like crazy. I work extremely hard and I still come up short. 

After this reality that I may not be “good enough” dad found me in his office wiping tears of disappointment, embarrassment, fear of the next step, and complete and utter frustration. We began to talk. As we did, he discovered something inside of me that I have bottled up. Maybe nursing isn’t for me. Maybe being labeled “Samantha Ellis RN” isn’t in my future. But I love to care for people. I love the concept of the human body. I love to sit and listen to my residents at work tell me their life story. I love the Administration side of assisted living-which is something my current job allows me to experience. 

Funny how things always take us different directions than what we’d planned. It’s disappointing at the same time. 

I’ll be honest-my entire life I wanted my career to consist of little feet running around my house calling me Mom. My paid career, is second. But that doesn’t mean my education isn’t something I strive for. 

I’m slowing learning once again that I’m not in control, I can’t be in control. Our lord and savior is in control. He sees the beginning from the end. He sees the final puzzle piece. He knows in the end, I’ll be happy. He knows no matter how scary my future looks to me right now and no matter how trapped I feel by my own weaknesses, that I will be okay. My soon to be husband and I will be okay. Our little family will be okay. So for now, I trust. I trust that He will carry me through until that day where I know, I’ll be okay.

The Honest Truth of Being a Returned Missionary

I was reading a book today called The Return Missionary Handbook. I opened it thinking, “I really hope this has some answers, because for the first time in 18 months, I no longer have answers.” I showed up at the book store looking for something that could fill my time when I wasn’t doing anything else because as a missionary we are use to 100% of the time, having something to do.

               I have been home four weeks now, which makes me a professional at the whole “returned missionary” thing right? Wrong. As I was reading this book, I had so many thoughts run through my head as the author shared many true stories of other missionaries and their struggles that they have experienced upon their return back to what everyone seems to call normal life. There were many things she wrote about that I was shocked. The clear and honest truth about this huge life change. There was one young man who shared his experiences that led me on a path of thought. I hope to share with you the feelings of my heart. Ive been asked over 100 times what it is like being home, what are my plans for the future, and when am I getting married. Folks, let’s take a step back. Here is the honest truth about being home from a mission.

               It is harder than anyone can help prepare you for. As a missionary in the field, we have a vision of how everything is supposed to go when we get home. We are stepping into a fairy tale, or so we have it planned in our head. We imagine the family trips, the long and warm summer nights with the friends we’ve so desperately missed, the best date nights ever with the boy we left behind, the endless nights of movies that we’ve missed, driving down the highway blasting that new country music we never got to hear, and the endless amounts of phone calls we will make to all those we can’t see in person. The list can go on and on. Sometimes they will include two weeks of hibernation to catch up on the pure exhaustion we feel. Let me tell you, very few of those things have I actually done.

               This truth is even harder-I have never felt so relieved than the day I was released as a missionary. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my mission more than I could ever express with black characters on a white background, but I no longer was having to carry the weight of souls on my shoulders. Sure, we do in life still, but it is not the same as it was in the mission field. Serving a mission is simple, it’s not easy but it’s simple but what people don’t understand unless they do it, is the pressure that we constantly feel. People wonder why missionaries are so tired all the time. Well this is why. Yes, we sleep 8 hours a night, more than we probably ever did before our missions, but our minds are NEVER at rest. We are constantly worried about everyone else. How do I help this investigator have a desire to be baptized? How do I get this less active to have a desire to return to church? How do I help instead of burden the bishop? How do I gain the trust of my mission president? How do I help this brand new missionary learn everything they need to know before I leave? In some ways, they are concerns similar to that of what a parent might feel for their children.

               Don’t misunderstand, being released as a missionary caused tears to flow more freely than they ever, EVER, have before. Some of those tears came as I pictured faces of those I served, some came as I felt that release of pressure and my body realized I could take a breath and rest for a little bit, others came as I looked at my family that surrounded me that I hadn’t seen in over 18 months, others were anxiety that filled my heart as everyone in the room asked me what my next step was.

               People ask me, almost daily, “what does it feel like to be home?” or “how is it being home?” I always respond the same way, “Its weird.” I say that because my heart and brain don’t know how to fully respond to that question. Do I say “It feels absolutely incredible to sleep deeply at night and be surrounded by my family”? or do I say “I absolutely hate it.” See the issue? Which would you rather hear? We don’t know how to answer that question. So I’ll answer both. I love it and I hate it. I don’t miss the stress but I miss the people. I don’t miss being constantly overwhelmed and feeling inadequate but I miss the strong feelings of the Holy Ghost that we experience as missionaries. I don’t miss the long list of rules and the 446 rules and regulations in the “White Bible” as well call it (Missionary Handbook), but I do miss the relationship I had with other missionaries.

               See? We never win. Our heart is constantly torn. There is no way to truly fill the void we feel as returned missionaries. So, advice-don’t try. Let us hurt. Its okay to be confused and lost and feel so unsure about what tomorrow is going to look like because we don’t have a companion to do daily planning with. It means that the last 18-24 months meant something to us. We only got 18-24 months, so let us have a few more. Don’t ask us what our next step is, because everyone else already has. Ask us what we learned, how we’ve changed, and what experiences impacted us most. Allow us to step out of this world and back into missionary life for just a few minutes. That’ll leave more of an impact on your heart and ours if you give us a moment to reflect back on the experiences we just had.

               Thank you for those who have influenced a missionary, soon to be or returned, in any way. We don’t say it enough but thank you. We couldn’t do what we do without your help, love and support. This transition back to “normal life” is almost harder than the transition of becoming a missionary. So instead of trying to fix it, or speed up the process, love us and support us because one day we will figure it out. But don’t expect it to be today and be okay with that.

All my love,

Forever-with or without a name tag.

Sister Samantha Ellis

Weaknesses Magnified

Have you ever felt like there is a little list inside of you that has written on it "all the ways to push my buttons" or "all the weaknesses I posses"? Does that list seem to sometimes be put under a magnifying glass for the whole world to read? I personally feel as if there have been times, okay maybe a lot of times, that my weaknesses have been put on display right alongside of my giant plate of insecurities. There are even things I never analyzed as weaknesses or even insecurities but when they're put on display, I struggle to see them as strengths.

Have you ever taken the "Color Code" test? If you haven't, I'd suggest it. If you have, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about when I say I'm identified among the group that hold red character traits. Shocking right? Not. My dad also finds himself mingled among the same group of people. I'll give you a quick run down of what you might find inside this category. The hot heads at sporting events, the bosses of big corporations, the leader of a specific service organization, Mr. overpowering, the "get it done guy", are all among this specific group. There are many other things that help to identify us but when people think "red", this is what they think.

Most of my life I was okay being known with them, I liked the title. As I've gotten older, I have seen many things about my red personality traits that I don't like. I don't always want to be in charge. I don't always want to be the one that people ask to do something because the word "no" isn't in my vocabulary. I'm usually stressed because us "reds" feel the need to take on the world and look good doing it. Serving as a missionary for my church was the exact same pattern. I was asked to train right after being trained, I then was sent to take over a new area and build a program only to 6 weeks later get called to train again, followed again by opening up a brand new program. When something needs to be done or completed, they send the "red". Don't misunderstand me, many other people found in other groups are just as capable and would do an incredible job but they are okay when asked to just sit and relax. A "red" can't do that. We don't know how to just sit and not be in charge. It's almost as if it is physically painful to hand someone else the reigns. Why? Good question. I ask myself that every single day. 

I've set goals, time and time again, to overcome specific "red" tendencies. I want to be able to sit in a conversation and not have to say anything. I want to be able to let someone else take the lead roll. I want to be able to have a soft and quiet voice. I want to be mellow and not seem so full of energy all the time. I set goals to overcome my, what I call, natural man tendencies to do all the things listed above.

I wrote a friend a few months ago and expressed my frustration at the fact that my weaknesses and the things I was working on, were now out on display for those around me to see. It's as if they're on a plate and one by one people come up, pick it up and say "wow. Look at this one everyone!" As everyone gathers around, the ache begins to turn into embarrassment which turns into anger, exposing another weakness. And so it continues. This friend responded to my words by reminding me that the greatest person that ever walked this earth had red tendencies to, even Jesus Christ, the very son of God.

We, as human beings, become very insecure as people point out weaknesses we already know about ourselves. Especially is those weaknesses are things we are currently working on. We wonder if we've even made progress. "Apparently not if people still notice it!" And I try to hush my mind. People often will feel threatened by those who have strengths they don't, and the easiest way to deal with that feeling, is to point out the weaknesses of the one they feel threatened by. Like they are trying to convince themselves that they aren't doing so bad.

My friends, be careful. Be careful the things you say. Painful words are to the soul, like Legos are to the barefoot. Those around you are fighting just as hard of a battle as you are, and most of the time, probably harder. We all have weaknesses. Every single person on this earth has things they're working on and I'm sure they pray every day, just like I do, to have the aid they need to overcome them. There is a passage in the Book of Mormon that I love. It's in Ether 12:27. It says: 

"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."

Take this the right way, if you are aware of your weakness, that means you're coming closer to Christ. He only shows us our weaknesses after we come unto Him. Don't be upset as your list of weaknesses grows stronger. I can almost guarantee, if you're taking a running list, your list of strengths grows right along with your list of weaknesses. I know mine does, and some days I have to try really hard, but they're there.

Don't quit. Don't let your identity be left to a color. I use to just say as a excuse, "well I'm red. That's just what we do." No, I am not a color. I have those color traits. There is a big difference. I do my best everyday to overcome the negative sides of "red" but all in all, I like my red personalities. The positive outweigh the negatives by far.

We are human. We are all working towards the exact same goal of happiness. Your imperfect self is exactly who this world needs. We don't need perfection. Life's not fun in perfection. 

The Road Less Traveled

     This semester is coming to a close. I have been studying for finals the last 4 days none stop. College was absolutely nothing like I expected. In some ways it was better, in others it was worse. Often times I found myself on my knees pleading with my Father in Heaven to just help me get through the day. Many days were a battle with myself to get up and out of bed.
     The first several days and even couple weeks of the semester Im sure my roommates wondered if I was a tear machine and that's all I did was cry. It took weeks before I could go a few hours without crying. I was homesick, lonely, lost, confused, and unsure if I was where I was suppose to be. I had no idea what I wanted to study and very seldom even cared at that point.
     The past 3 months have been the longest and hardest of my entire life. Learning to live on your own with new people, different experiences, and a whole lot of confusion is overwhelming. I walked into my apartment for the first time to 5 girls I had never met before who are all interested in completely different things. I was now no longer sharing a bathroom with my sister but with 2 other girls who hardly even knew my name.

The Girls of Apartment 405

     First day of class came and you better believe I had a map with me. I quite often had to ask other students where to go or where I was. I quickly learned I couldn't do this on my own. I sat in class the first day, stood up walked out and decided I didn't want to go to nursing school anymore; just like that. After the first week of classes I was so overwhelmed and stressed with the new changes in life, I dropped every class that was on my schedule. I went from 16 credits down to 12.
     With a mission call in hand, I figured all I had to do was get through the semester and I'd figure the rest out after my mission.
Funny Sam. If you don't have it figured out now, you're gonna have to figure it out on your mission because your mom has to sign up for classes for you before you even get home. I hit my knees. Life was to the point of unbearable. I was exhausted. Ever corner I turned someone wanted an answer from me about my future.
What are you studying? What are your future plans? Where are you going to school after your mission? Do you plan to get married right after you get home? What is he doing for school? Are you going to transfer to be closer to him? Are you ready for your mission? Have you been studying any german because I heard it is a really hard language?  The questions never stopped. When my mom told me college was time for me to be an adult I didn't believe her; or maybe I did, I just didn't understand what being an adult entailed.

Now looking back on it, the past three months have been long but short all at the same time. I was packing my bags last night getting ready to leave this weekend and it feels like yesterday I was unloading them as I started this adventure. Im just 5 short weeks I begin another adventure as I head to the mission field where I will serve the next 18 months in Germany. Many of the lessons I have learned this semester will be carried with my as I go into the mission field. Thank heavens there are no tests for that one. I have never been more nervous for something in my entire life. But I know my future self with thank me for taking chances and doing hard things.
I lived, I survived. I made it through 14 weeks of my first college semester. It wasn't easy, but I did it. Im grateful to my Heavenly Father for never being easy on me and for never answering my prayers right away. Im grateful He made me be patient and Im grateful He made me struggle more than ever this semester. I had lessons I needed to learn, lessons that will help me in the mission field and far beyond that. I learned how to be ok with being by myself. I learned more about who I am, who's I am,  what I am capable of, how strong I am, and how to be patient in times of trial and affliction.
In the words of my mom we often have to "get up, get dressed, and put one foot in front of the other."

No Pain, No Gain

“I sometimes wonder how to write about happiness, how to describe joy. All I can say is this: I feel so happy when I play basketball. Health scientists would probably say all I’m feeling is endorphins and the pleasing effects they have on the mind and body, but I like to think it’s more than that. I like to think that God put basketball on the earth for me.”

                  I wrote that in my journal over Christmas break, in the middle of my senior year basketball season. I’d played the game since 7^th grade, head-over-heels in love with it ever since; I craved the challenge, both physical and mental, that the game offered; I prided myself in outworking any opponent I came up against. Our team sought to win the region championship that season, and put ourselves in a good standing for the state tournament. We’d proved our competitive abilities in the preseason, beating several notable teams. I looked forward to what we could do in region games.

Christmas break ended, and we returned to school for Winterim and basketball. Our team had four big consecutive wins, then we faced rival Rowland Hall. I played poorly, to say the least. I had three fouls in the first quarter, forcing my coach to bench me for much of the game. I scored one measly point and eventually fouled out. Though we sneaked out the win, I left that game feeling disappointed about my performance. Where was my confidence, my head, my ability? I committed to playing better. From that day on, nothing would deter me. Next up we played at Layton Christian Academy, and I would be ready. 

When I arrived at LCA, I never expected the trial I would soon face. The competitive game went back and forth, until the third quarter, when LCA began to pull away. In the fourth quarter, we fought to come back, even coming within four points. But it wasn’t enough, and our defense crumbled under LCA’s press break. They lead by 8 with one minute left.

In the final seconds, I chased a quick LCA point guard dribbling down the court. Vowing not to let her blow by me as she had minutes earlier, I hustled to keep up with her, thinking she was heading straight down the sideline. However, she suddenly crossed over towards the center of the court. In attempt to stay with her, I planted my left foot and sprung to my right. But something went terribly wrong. My leg twisted, and my right knee bent outward. I collapsed to the floor. No pain, not even fracturing my fibula in a soccer game five years earlier, compared to the searing pain that ran through my entire leg at that moment. No one said it, but I feared the worst: I just tore my ACL.

A few days later, an MRI scan confirmed that fear. The Anterior Cruciate Ligament in my right knee was completely severed. It would require extensive reconstructive surgery and months of rehab. I wrote in my journal, “Sometimes, God does weird things to us. In the scriptures that is phrased, ‘God works in mysterious ways’. I am finding that to be true. . . Everything changes.”  

The wake of my injury carried devastation. I cried myself to sleep many of those first nights. I attempted to drown out my sorrow in music, listening to certain songs on replay, ten times over, just to create noise that would overpower my worried thoughts. I avoided looking at myself in the mirror, because seeing my swollen eyes made me cry even more. “It’s almost impossible to not think about [my knee],” I wrote. “I can attempt to distract myself… but one glance at my brand new basketball shoes, the ones I got for Christmas, and I’m in tears again. The physical pain is significant, but the emotional pain is crushing.”

Not only did sorrow overcome me, but fear as well. “Everything gets worse when I take myself out of the here and now. Like the minute I start imagining what senior night or our basketball banquet might be like, (morbidly emotional, probably,) I cry. . . It’s like, I’m not just crying for the girl on her bed in a knee brace. I’m crying for the girl who has to go and watch her teammates play without her, I’m crying for the girl who will miss the rest of her senior season, who won’t even play in her own senior night.” Suddenly the end was upon me, sooner than expected. I would never play high school basketball again, and the thought horrified me.

But along with sorrow and fear came unexpected courage and strength. “Though I can’t physically play with [my team] anymore, I’m still every bit a member and a captain of that team. I have to be able to switch my mentality a little and say, hey, I can’t run or walk, but I do have two good hands and a voice and a smile. I can offer my energy and passion and encouragement. I can be there to every game and every practice giving my heart from the sideline. It’s gonna be different, but it’s gonna be okay.”

In those first few weeks, I found incredible comfort through the gospel of Jesus Christ. I prayed like I’d never prayed before; never had I felt so close to God. Many nights, I opened my bible and scanned the New Testament for highlighted verses that offered peace. The words of Christ never disappoint. I found my faith and testimony building. “God is the Master Physician. He will heal broken bodies, He will heal broken souls. I do not doubt His love; it is unfailing. I have felt it to an extreme degree the past few days. He has kept His promise, that He would not leave me comfortless, but that He would come to me.”

Aside from the gospel, nothing healed my broken heart like being with my team. I appreciated being with people who didn’t have to ask what happened to me. They wrote me cards that I read over and over again; they visited me at my home the day after my surgery; they cheered for me when I came into the gym. They will never know how many times I cried tears of gratitude for their support.

                  I discovered purpose and joy in my newfound role on the bench. I cheered hard and lived for basketball. I never stopped loving the game. In fact, my appreciation grew as I observed my coach and learned more about the technical aspects. Even though I couldn’t play, I did my best to serve my teammates and lead from off the court. “I’m beginning to realize how important it is that you believe that your contribution is worth something, that you are needed.” Following the season, I wrote in my journal, “I can honestly say that I loved every minute of basketball even after my injury. The pain of losing my ability to play never exceeded the joy I felt when I was at practice or games. I looked forward to them all the same.”

                  Our team did not win the region title, but we did go to state as a third seed. Despite losing in the first round, the state tournament of my senior year was – and will forever be – a treasured moment in my life. In the final minutes of that game, my coach subbed me in, knee brace and all. Our opponents graciously allowed me to stand beneath the basket and get two layups – the last points of my senior year - before the final whistle blew. The crowd erupted, chanting my name. Right then I felt something that I’d never felt before, and honestly doubt I will feel again. My teammates and coaches hugged me tight, then we headed down the long tunnel of cheering students for the last time.

                 

That was ten months ago. Today, I’m back running and playing ball, but the emotional pain hasn’t fully healed. I think about my knee every day. I still hurt, a lot. I still feel ashamed that I injured myself in the final seconds of a loss. For a long time I felt like I disappointed many people, and it still bothers me that I can’t go back and fix things. I hate having to live wondering what could have been, had I stayed healthy. I hate that it ended so soon, that I never got the chance to finish.

I can’t say that I wouldn’t go back and reverse what happened at LCA that night; I guess I’m not to that point yet. But I am amazed at the good that followed my injury. I gained a passion for sports medicine, I learned how to heal a knee, I attained greater compassion for other athletes experiencing injuries. My respect for my parents grew enormously. I felt loved and supported by my school. I learned how important it is to contribute your best effort, whatever that may mean, to your team. I strengthened my relationship with God. I found meaning in vulnerable moments, like crying in public, hobbling around on crutches, and asking for help. I was humbled, which was something I really needed. And today, I can look back and with confidence say that it was worth it. Even when our fears become realities, good can arise. Life does not have to be perfect to be good. So when you find yourself in the midst of a trial, take courage. “Don’t you quit. You keep walking. You keep trying. There is help and happiness ahead. You keep your chin up. It will be all right in the end. Trust God and believe in good things to come.” (Elder Jeffrey R. Holland)

                                     

                  Andi Decker

"Peace be unto thy Soul"

Two weeks ago tomorrow, I had the opportunity to finally walk behind the glass doors of the temple, scan my recommend, and pass the line of people that stand at the counter. I was filled with so much excitement. My whole life the temple has been a place I escape to when I feel the world is giving me too much to bear. I often find myself at night sitting in my car in the parking lot admiring how incredibly beautiful it is. To be able to go inside was a dream come true.

     Preparing for a mission has not been easy. I’ve been comfortable with the gospel nearly my entire life and I love talking about my Savior. But for some reason, there is this invisible barrier that I just can’t seem to pass. When “they” say Satan works on you the most from the time you get your call to the time you leave, they aren’t kidding. Doubts, fears, nerves, inadequacy, all of those feelings flood your heart and mind at the same time and you feel like you no longer have the strength to stand on your own two feet. At least it was for me. I knew that entering the temple and doing baptisms, which are still vitally important, or sitting in the parking lot could no longer break down the wall I had between my Heavenly Father and I. I needed something more powerful and I couldn’t think of any other place to do that, that inside the walls of our Saviors humble home. I have my sweet mom with me the entire time to walk me through things, to answer any questions I had, and to make me feel as comfortable as I could with the new situation I was going through. Let me tell ya, I have never seen my mom more beautiful or never loved her more than I did that day. When we had to opportunity to rejoin with my dad later during the course of our temple stay, tears filled his eyes. My brother was there with him and my grandparents as well. I decided that if that was what Heaven was like, I would do whatever it took to get there. It was the most humbling and spiritual experience I have ever had. 

     Earlier that morning when I was at the Distribution Center getting all my apparel that  I would need that night, the lady helping us made me aware she served her mission in Germany as well, an area that is now part of the Frankfurt Mission. We talked briefly about missionary work and then she began giving me some advise for what would happen later that night. She told me, “Sister Ellis, there is a lot that can go on and often people get overwhelmed, especially if it is their first time. I want to tell you to put those feelings out of your mind. You don’t have to remember a single thing other than the spirit that you feel inside the walls of the temple, the memorization and learning will come as you attend the temple more and more.” I kept those words close to my heart. I didn’t let the new information overwhelm me, I turned to my mom for guidance and she helped me with everything as well as the wonderful temple workers. I just got to enjoy the spirit of the temple. It was beautiful. I walked out that night with a strength I had never felt before. It was incredible. I decided to go a few weeks earlier than planned because I needed that extra strength and I am so glad that I did. 

     Since that time, my worries about my mission have shifted, do I really have to leave my life and everything that I know and my family for a year and a half? How am I suppose to do that when I struggle being 4 hours away and can call them any time I need to? Will homesickness ever go away? Will the ones I leave behind be ok? Will I come back to how things were? It was in the constant battle with myself that I walked into my Doctrine & Covenants class one day and we read the account of Joseph Smith in Liberty Jail. Reading the second half of the Doctrine & Covenants I have had such an increased respect for Joseph and those that served with him. There are times they were going through a literal hell on earth and Joseph never questioned. He often asked the Lord where he was and asked why he had to endure this pain and affliction but never once did he doubt the Lord. In 

Section 121: 7-8 the Lord says this to Joseph:

7. My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment;

8. And then if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes.

     It was in reading those short verses that I was again reminded of the strength we get from the Lord. We got through adversity to grow and to learn. We face expected challenged of unexpected magnitude but the Lord knows why. He sees the end result where we may not.

I constantly question why I have been called to serve in Germany. I am one of few missionaries called there who have no experience with the language at all, I struggle learning things in school as it is, and now I have to learn a pretty hard language. There has never been a time more than now that I have had to put my trust in Him because I can’t do it without Him. I will never get over the homesickness or learn to communicate with those I am serving, if I do not trust in Him. He understands and sees the things I will do on my mission, that is why He called me there. I will eventually come to see why I have been called there but it won’t come without faith. I will eventually lose the feeling of constantly missing home, I will learn German, I will be able to communicate, and I will have some incredible experiences, hard and great, while serving the Lord. 

     There is absolutely nothing on this planet that is too big for our Heavenly Father and our Savior to help us overcome. He overcame the world, so why are you trying to do it all on your own? He knows the way, He knows how and He has promised to fight out battles for us. So let Him. Respect Him enough to do what He does best. 

Peace be unto thy soul. It is just a small moment. It will end and you will triumph. 

-Samantha Ellis