Missionary Week: Final Part

There's a little missionary-related piece of writing my mom sent me a few years ago (after her and my dad's mission) that I've been searching for to post today. But I haven't found it yet.

And there is a topic in my mind that begs writing down. But it's just too late.

There's the idea we discussed of doing a mission recipe exchange. Thought it would be fun to throw around some good international cuisine. But since we're too tired to look up and type out our exact recipes, we figured you probably were too.

So until I either find or write or have energy to do the above (and perhaps you know me well enough to predict that that might happen in time for Missionary Week 2011), here's a little documentation of the fun we had together last week:

(I told you: we love the window crayons)

What I wish I had a video of: Lucy and her Daddy singing Deilig er Jorden (Norwegians' Beautiful Savior) to begin our Monday night missionary celebration. What I at least have pictures of:

A good fish dinner. Very Norwegian. Thanks Cannon Center.

Lucy's flag place mats. For our Norwegian dessert that I didn't make (but we did eat left over baby shower cupcakes; I figured: Norwegians probably eat cupcakes).

A rousing game of "I have a little Troll and he won't scare you...

...and he won't scare you...

...but he will scare you!"

There were braids.

"Hi little Hilda!" Wes said affectionately to Lucy when he saw her wearing her supposedly Norwegian hairstyle. "Erter og poteter!" Lucy replied with a big grin and a skip in her step. ("peas and potatoes" is her favorite Norwegian phrase.)

And there were blueberries,

And there was an all-around good time.

But my favorite?

A little "read aloud" from the (amazing) Christmas gift Wes's parents compiled for him (and each of his siblings). Do you have a bunch of missionary letters laying around somewhere? You might consider making a similar compilation. Or you might at least consider pulling them out for a family read. It was a real treat for us!

Side by Side

My friend Ryan and I got called on missions at about the same time, he to Brazil and I to Norway. It was surprising when we both got back how close we still were. And how serving in such vastly different cultures and climates had brought us to the same truth: that God lives and that He loves all his children. Ryan just had way cooler, life threatening stories than I did, including this one:

There are few times in life when you’re able to focus 100% on a single cause. A church mission provides that opportunity; to live, eat, sleep, and breathe the same work, with virtually no outside distractions.

In being asked to share how missionary service affected my spirituality/relationship with the Savior, I was reminded of the Abraham Lincoln quote: “I’ve been driven many times to my knees, by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go.” While a great deal of life experience is gained gradually, there are also singular moments of realization that forever change you. So I’d like to share one of those moments, and how it affected me.

I recall a night when my companion and I journeyed down an isolated dirt road through the jungle. Several people had told us not to take that route at night. But being young and foolish, I ignored their council. Thirty minutes into our walk, we heard rustling in the trees. Soon we could see faces, moving through the bush on either side of us. There were 7 or 8 men following us from a distance, but gradually moving in from either side. We were going to be robbed. This was certain. Probably beaten, and possibly killed. I remember feeling absolute terror. But a clear thought came to my mind. A favorite missionary scripture: “And whoso receiveth you, there I will be also, for I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up. (D&C 84:88) ” And I remember thinking, “I don’t deserve to have that scripture apply to me. We were warned not to take this path at night. The Lord owes me nothing.” Seconds later, we came upon a small shack by the side of the path. The only occupied structure on this hour long journey. We knocked frantically at the door. A terrified voice from inside cried out “Go away! Leave us alone! Please don’t hurt us!” We desperately tried to convince the family we were not there to hurt them. As we begged to be let in, we saw 2 faces appear around the side of the house, then quickly disappear. The gang was emerging from the jungle and hiding behind the house, not 20 feet from where we stood. Suddenly the door flew open, a woman grabbed us by the shoulders, pulled us inside and slammed the door, locking all 3 deadbolts. An hour and a half later, we finally felt safe enough to leave. The next day we discovered that on the same night they had surrounded us, this band of robbers had pulled a taxi driver from his car, beaten and robbed him, and left him for dead. 2 weeks later, I got a letter from my Dad, dated the night of that incident. It said that he had felt a strong impression that I was in danger, and that he needed to pray for me immediately. And that when he got off his knees, he felt the assurance that I would be protected.

I’ve never felt so humbled. So childlike at the foot of a loving Father in Heaven. There are moments that forever change your perspective on life. Times when you’re privileged to “see the arm of the Lord revealed.” Missions provide an opportunity to work side by side with the Lord. To go to work each day with the Savior as your co-worker. These experiences certainly aren’t unique to missionaries. But because of the sheer volume of time spent in his service, missionaries get to see the Lord intervene in the affairs of men far more frequently than most people.

Missionary Week: Part One

Elder Walker, Christian, Moses, Elder Truman

Right after his baptism, Moses, Elder Walker and I were invited to share dinner at a young couple's home. They were curious to hear about Moses's conversion.

"So how did you find the church?"

Moses related the simple but inspiring story: he had been seeking truth and had asked his mother's advice about what he should do. She encouraged him to pray. "And that's how I found these guys," he said, indicating me and my companion.

Elder Walker and I laughed about that comment. Hadn't we found him? Hadn't we been fasting, and praying, and proselyting for months? Hadn't we stopped him on the street?

I still remember that day we met Moses. I remember watching him walk away after he'd given us his phone number. I remember feeling ... curiosity? hope? Something different. Our conversation was the same I'd been through countless times, but there had been a sincerity in Moses that we hadn't seen in anyone else.

We called him later that week. He was baptized about a month later.

I've pondered Moses's story for the past eight years. And I've realized over and over again that Moses was right. He found us. Heavenly Father answered his humble, sincere prayer and graciously allowed Elder Walker and I to be a part of the process. I'm convinced that God will likewise guide all such humble seekers of truth to find his true gospel.

Moses (far right), eight years after his baptism. Still keepin' the faith!

I returned home from my mission to Norway in mid-March 2002. We've thus designated the second week in March as our family missionary week. A time to keep a few Norwegian traditions alive with our children, to make Norwegian food, sing Norwegian songs, tell Norwegian tales. But mostly it's a time to remember Heavenly Father's love for all his children, regardless of language or location, and to remember the Savior's commission to preach the gospel in all the world (Mark 16: 15).

We hope you'll join our celebration! Come back Monday, Wednesday, and Friday this week for some missionary related posts!