Week 39: Turf War
Dear Loved Ones,
I figured out why I'm here.
For a long while, I've been praying for God to use me to help someone in a similar situation to the one I was in with being barred from serving a mission and relegated to a two-transfer mission in the beginning. I'd envisioned myself getting that by having a companion who is a two-transfer missionary.
But no. It's a nineteen year old girl in the YSA ward where I'm serving. The similarities between her situation and mine are heartbreaking and I want nothing more than to see her mended by being given a mission call. I'll call her Madison. I met with Madison on Saturday and told her I'll see her through this trial, no matter how long it takes and where I go, and coach her on what she needs to do when she goes up against LDS Family Services next. I wish someone had done that for me.
The next day, missions came up over and over again at the pulpit. Another member of the ward had just received her call, so it was even more of a hot topic than missions always are in singles wards.
I didn't realize how much time mission talk occupied until I looked over and saw Madison across the chapel. I can ignore it now, sit through a YSA sacrament without pain, because my heart was mended by finally being on a mission. I'm bitter and cynical and jaded now, yes, but I don't live in a state of heartbreak anymore. I remember all too well what that's like, though. I was barred from serving for three years. That's twice as long as my mission will last. That episode of my life is a more permanent and impactful part of my personality than anything that has happened or could happen on my mission.
I hope that I'm able to help Madison through this and see her heal like I have.
The church's visitors' center is one of three churches on a corner. Across from us is the seashell-shaped temple of the Community of Christ, who were formed from the RLDS church. Across from them is the Church of Christ, nicknamed Hedrickites. They hold the temple lot where Joseph Smith and Sidney Rigdon dedicated the temple we never got to build. One visitor called this layout a turf war.
Yes, I do often feel like missionaries are here to hold ground. In a mission of 185 people, there are 46 missionaries stationed in Independence and its outlying towns. Sister Leakehe and I are the only sisters in Independence who don't also have a set of elders serving in our ward. My roommates are only teaching one person and the elders covering their ward are teaching five. We're in a turf war with each other. We crowd each other out, stealing work. People say there are so many of us here because they need both full-time elders and sisters to run the visitors' center, but I don't buy that. One, there's not enough work to necessitate that. Two, Liberty has the jail and double coverage isn't as common there. The better theory I've heard is that we're here in droves because we have so many breakoff churches.
And privately, I wonder whether they're blitzing it for the Second Coming.
Sunday night, I got a reminder of the real turf war. Sister Leakehe and I were chatting with a woman who said that people think Missouri is all Bible Belty, which, granted, it is, but, the woman said, there's also a strong Satanic presence here. I'd heard hints of that here and there before, but this was my first outright clue that the Devil had a sizable foothold here. I don't want to read too much into that because I'm sure there are devil-worshipers everywhere, but it's uncanny that he seems to be gathering devotees in and around the Garden of Eden, where Satan and Eve fired the first shots.
The work may be dead here (I'm teaching a grand total of zero people at the moment), but I've figured out who I'm here for and I'm actively engaged in a turf war with Satan.
Sincerely,
Sister Smith
I figured out why I'm here.
For a long while, I've been praying for God to use me to help someone in a similar situation to the one I was in with being barred from serving a mission and relegated to a two-transfer mission in the beginning. I'd envisioned myself getting that by having a companion who is a two-transfer missionary.
But no. It's a nineteen year old girl in the YSA ward where I'm serving. The similarities between her situation and mine are heartbreaking and I want nothing more than to see her mended by being given a mission call. I'll call her Madison. I met with Madison on Saturday and told her I'll see her through this trial, no matter how long it takes and where I go, and coach her on what she needs to do when she goes up against LDS Family Services next. I wish someone had done that for me.
The next day, missions came up over and over again at the pulpit. Another member of the ward had just received her call, so it was even more of a hot topic than missions always are in singles wards.
I didn't realize how much time mission talk occupied until I looked over and saw Madison across the chapel. I can ignore it now, sit through a YSA sacrament without pain, because my heart was mended by finally being on a mission. I'm bitter and cynical and jaded now, yes, but I don't live in a state of heartbreak anymore. I remember all too well what that's like, though. I was barred from serving for three years. That's twice as long as my mission will last. That episode of my life is a more permanent and impactful part of my personality than anything that has happened or could happen on my mission.
I hope that I'm able to help Madison through this and see her heal like I have.
The church's visitors' center is one of three churches on a corner. Across from us is the seashell-shaped temple of the Community of Christ, who were formed from the RLDS church. Across from them is the Church of Christ, nicknamed Hedrickites. They hold the temple lot where Joseph Smith and Sidney Rigdon dedicated the temple we never got to build. One visitor called this layout a turf war.
Yes, I do often feel like missionaries are here to hold ground. In a mission of 185 people, there are 46 missionaries stationed in Independence and its outlying towns. Sister Leakehe and I are the only sisters in Independence who don't also have a set of elders serving in our ward. My roommates are only teaching one person and the elders covering their ward are teaching five. We're in a turf war with each other. We crowd each other out, stealing work. People say there are so many of us here because they need both full-time elders and sisters to run the visitors' center, but I don't buy that. One, there's not enough work to necessitate that. Two, Liberty has the jail and double coverage isn't as common there. The better theory I've heard is that we're here in droves because we have so many breakoff churches.
And privately, I wonder whether they're blitzing it for the Second Coming.
Sunday night, I got a reminder of the real turf war. Sister Leakehe and I were chatting with a woman who said that people think Missouri is all Bible Belty, which, granted, it is, but, the woman said, there's also a strong Satanic presence here. I'd heard hints of that here and there before, but this was my first outright clue that the Devil had a sizable foothold here. I don't want to read too much into that because I'm sure there are devil-worshipers everywhere, but it's uncanny that he seems to be gathering devotees in and around the Garden of Eden, where Satan and Eve fired the first shots.
The work may be dead here (I'm teaching a grand total of zero people at the moment), but I've figured out who I'm here for and I'm actively engaged in a turf war with Satan.
Sincerely,
Sister Smith
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