The sum of my week was a huge drama fest; all caused by the emotional wreck that is Elder Low. On Monday I could already tell that I was going to dearly miss Elder Zaleski, he’s been a part of everything I’ve done for the past three months and it was really hard to see him go. Even in the final hours of his missionary work, he refused to give in and be “trunky.” He always made future plans in the week, saying that we would go there and we would teach them, rather than unloading a huge amount of missionary work upon my shoulders by verbally delegating to me alone. In the eight o’clock hour of his last day, our planned investigator canceled on us. I asked Elder Zaleski what he would like to do for the last hour of his mission. He stared at me and shivered, presumably frightened by the very though that his mission would be over. He insisted on praying to God who would reveal to us where we needed to be. We subsequently went to see a part-member less-active family in town, and to our surprise, the nonmember husband confided in us his interests in the Church and how he was wondering if he should call us up. We then magically showed up on his door. We came away from that successful hour with Elder Zaleski very satisfied.
However that did not stop the next couple days from being very hard for me. The day Elder Zaleski was to go to Pittsburgh for transfer meeting, I insisted on listening to a talk by some dude who thinks he understands the Atonement. And while I furiously took notes, what really passed me by were the dwindling sands of time of our companionship. When we pulled into the chapel parking lot of Hollidaysburg, I felt extremely interrupted, only to get out of the car and get a quick hug from him. Then it hit me. He was leaving. I felt like I really wasted the last hour we had together in silence listening to a disc of recorded opinions. Some of his last words to me were “don’t forget to write in your journal,” leading to some of the other Elders present to laugh at his choice of final advice. I felt stupid and frustrated while he got into the car and drove away.
I met my new companion that evening, Elder Lucas. He’s a funny missionary from Kaysville (sp?) Utah, who’s been out for about 19 months. He’s a great missionary, just different than what I was used to. The more time I spent with him, the more I began to pick at his faults silently, comparing him to my previous companion and trainer. Despite all he was, he never really had a chance in my mind. I probably could’ve gotten the best missionary ever and he still wouldn’t compare. It’s kind of embarrassing how judgmental I’ve gotten.
I felt so alone in my area; I had no idea to run Bedford! I even felt unqualified to speak with one of our star investigators, Amie. I desperately wished Elder Zaleski could’ve been there when we talked with her, because something had really changed. During Relief Society last week, she felt very uncomfortable because the topic somehow skewed onto homosexuality. She felt awkward because of the extreme conservative views in the room and got the idea that we shun people who are gay. She was confused and because of that she really started to question the Church – was this something she really wanted to get herself into? I began to realize more and more that Amie was only socially converted to the Church. We went through some basic doctrines and she let out a frightening question to us as we began to read Moroni 10:4-5, and that was “so, the Book of Mormon is the writings of John Smith, right?” My mouth fell open – she sounded like she knew nothing about the Church! How could she get baptized on Tuesday? After answering a lot more of her questions, she decided that she wanted to continue to learn to find out what is true, subsequently postponing there baptism.
Just as I went to write about my defeats in my journal that night, a piece of paper fell out of my journal that hadn’t been there before. I began to open it and realized why Elder Zaleski had told me so specifically to write in my journal – it was a letter from him. In it, he encouraged me to rely on the Lord when things got tough and as long as I would stay on a righteous path, then He will prompt me with what to do. He didn’t tell me that things would go smoothly from now on or that I would like all of my future companions the same, but Elder Zaleski counseled me that sometimes the Lord will expect me to do things that I don’t want to do. Only then would I because a tool in the Lord’s hands.
Those reassuring words really gave me some great closure and allowed me to continue with the work and my new companion. Cassie’s baptism on Saturday still happened and although I think she got flustered at times with my inexperience and disorganization, I think she was genuinely happy the whole baptismal service. Her kids were there, the talks were great, and the members were open and friendly. But perhaps the crown jewel of the day occurred when came over to me after the service and in her dignified, conservative way, she shook my hand and told me, “Thank you… for everything.”
For those of us who feel like the difference we make as missionaries only lasts for the two years we have the tag on, we need to take another good look at the impact we make on these people’s lives. It’s so worth it. Elder Zaleski kept telling everyone before he left that when he gets home, he’ll continue to call, email, and encourage his converts and investigators. Now I heard that little song and dance for about two weeks and I wanted to call his bluff. He simply responded that a mission was more metaphorical than we think. Those people who have a limited vision of God’s plan believe that when we die, we lose our freedom of choice and the purpose of life is over. But we know better. We know that the next life is just as important, if not more opportunistic for our potential. We’re not serving two-year missions. We’re in missionary boot camp right now, and when we go home, we’re thrust into the war.
Elder Low
P.S. Ashton looks so weird! So different and so much more grown-up!
P.P.S. I don’t really know much more about my new mission president than what I told you in my letter last week.
P.P.P.S. If you haven’t already guessed, I wasn’t transferred.
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