Week 25: Sunflower Days
Dear Loves Ones,
I've coined a new term for days when everything is going right and I'm happy to be a missionary: sunflower days. I had several of those this week. Days where I see sunflowers. Days I see fireflies. Days my companion and I jam out to Nashville Tribute Band and Alex Boye in the car. Days where everything falls into place.
The Relief Society hosted an activity where the stake patriarch came as a guest speaker. Sister Holdeman wanted to invite this new lady we're teaching. I'll codename her Fia. I was wary about that because patriarchal blessings are deeper doctrine and I don't think people need to know about them before they even know who Nephi is. But I caved, we invited, she came, and soaked it all up. This girl is golden. Fia has such a desire to learn, makes super insightful comments, and even asked me for a notebook (which I gave her) so she could start taking church notes. I looked over after a while and she had four or five pages of notes after two hours of church. The topic of Relief Society turned to tithing. She raised her hand to ask what that was, and as soon as she heard this while 90/10 deal God has worked out for us, she pulled out her calculator and did the math for her tithing. This girl! I love her so much.
On Tuesday, I was forced to go to something called a midtrainers' meeting. This rankles for two reasons: first off, this meeting doesn't exist in Idaho, so now it's not standard or needed, and second, I shouldn't be considered in training anymore. This is my sixth month as a missionary. But nobody values what I did in Idaho. I'm a second-class citizen all over again. I talked to an elder there who came out to Missouri in the same batch as me. He knows my cousin Max, so I keep tabs on him. I asked him how he's liking life in his area (downtown ghetto Independence) and he gave me a dead stare. He told me, "I've been eating sunflower seeds because I've been needing some sunlight in my life."
I told him that eventually he'll get transferred out of the ghetto and go to the country and there will be nothing but miles of rolling sunflowers. He looked like he was clinging to that idea.
I think it's important to share missionary stories that aren't all jolly. In church culture, we're supposed to talk up missions to sway people into going on them. But they're not everybody's best two years. Last week, I asked those of you who served how you came to love your missions. I got stories about loving missions, whether those missions were full-time in Indonesia or a service mission at the church office building, but I also got hard stories. The hardest one for me was a one-liner from a friend at school that said, simply, "My mission left me with PTSD and an identity crisis."
Though it's been a sunflower week for me, I still know those stories are worth sharing. I am happy now, I promise, but I've been on the other side of this for so long. I know what it's like to be terrified and isolated in a culture that romanticizes missions so much. So I'm always going to be as honest as I can get away with being, honest about the good and the bad days.
A week or two ago, I set what I call my three "little mission wishes." One wish was to see sunflowers in the state of Kansas. One is to serve in the visitors' center or Liberty Jail (or both!). One is for an educational wish to fall into place when I get back. I pray for them in a "if it wouldn't be too much trouble" way.
I got one of those this week. These sunflowers' owner wasn't interested in hearing from us, but she let me take a picture of her sunflowers.
Here's to sunflower days!
Sincerely,
Sister Smith
I've coined a new term for days when everything is going right and I'm happy to be a missionary: sunflower days. I had several of those this week. Days where I see sunflowers. Days I see fireflies. Days my companion and I jam out to Nashville Tribute Band and Alex Boye in the car. Days where everything falls into place.
The Relief Society hosted an activity where the stake patriarch came as a guest speaker. Sister Holdeman wanted to invite this new lady we're teaching. I'll codename her Fia. I was wary about that because patriarchal blessings are deeper doctrine and I don't think people need to know about them before they even know who Nephi is. But I caved, we invited, she came, and soaked it all up. This girl is golden. Fia has such a desire to learn, makes super insightful comments, and even asked me for a notebook (which I gave her) so she could start taking church notes. I looked over after a while and she had four or five pages of notes after two hours of church. The topic of Relief Society turned to tithing. She raised her hand to ask what that was, and as soon as she heard this while 90/10 deal God has worked out for us, she pulled out her calculator and did the math for her tithing. This girl! I love her so much.
On Tuesday, I was forced to go to something called a midtrainers' meeting. This rankles for two reasons: first off, this meeting doesn't exist in Idaho, so now it's not standard or needed, and second, I shouldn't be considered in training anymore. This is my sixth month as a missionary. But nobody values what I did in Idaho. I'm a second-class citizen all over again. I talked to an elder there who came out to Missouri in the same batch as me. He knows my cousin Max, so I keep tabs on him. I asked him how he's liking life in his area (downtown ghetto Independence) and he gave me a dead stare. He told me, "I've been eating sunflower seeds because I've been needing some sunlight in my life."
I told him that eventually he'll get transferred out of the ghetto and go to the country and there will be nothing but miles of rolling sunflowers. He looked like he was clinging to that idea.
I think it's important to share missionary stories that aren't all jolly. In church culture, we're supposed to talk up missions to sway people into going on them. But they're not everybody's best two years. Last week, I asked those of you who served how you came to love your missions. I got stories about loving missions, whether those missions were full-time in Indonesia or a service mission at the church office building, but I also got hard stories. The hardest one for me was a one-liner from a friend at school that said, simply, "My mission left me with PTSD and an identity crisis."
Though it's been a sunflower week for me, I still know those stories are worth sharing. I am happy now, I promise, but I've been on the other side of this for so long. I know what it's like to be terrified and isolated in a culture that romanticizes missions so much. So I'm always going to be as honest as I can get away with being, honest about the good and the bad days.
A week or two ago, I set what I call my three "little mission wishes." One wish was to see sunflowers in the state of Kansas. One is to serve in the visitors' center or Liberty Jail (or both!). One is for an educational wish to fall into place when I get back. I pray for them in a "if it wouldn't be too much trouble" way.
I got one of those this week. These sunflowers' owner wasn't interested in hearing from us, but she let me take a picture of her sunflowers.
Here's to sunflower days!
Sincerely,
Sister Smith
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