Somthing You Can't Seem to Get Over

Something you cant seem to get over

When I was 21, I felt a strong impression to go on a mission for the LDS church. Of all the decisions I have made in my life, that one will never be a regret. Some people must sacrifice a great deal to follow their beliefs, be that money, distance, or even their lives. At 21 I had not yet learned what it means to sacrifice.

I would come to know what sacrifice means through studying the life of Jesus Christ and his seemingly constant concern for others. I came to know that sacrifice meant giving up your self esteem because your calorie intake just skyrocketed. I met sacrifice on cobble stone streets where everything I believe was mocked, hated and laughed at. I came to see sacrifice in the hem line of the skirts my companion wore, because each skirt was lovingly paid for by hard hours in a cement factory. Every second of my mission filled me with a better understanding of what it means to think outside of yourself and I could not wait to come home and share that love and perfect vision that I had gained.

I felt that God has chosen me to be exactly where I was, each second of each day, to refine me to be the best version of myself. I could not wait to share my new wisdom with the person I loved most. Of all people, the one at home had to put up with the old selfish me the most. The one at home, deserved so much more but settled for me. He was my love at first sight, my hero and my best friend. And he loved me even though I had not yet learned what it means to sacrifice.

I loved to testify of love, of family, of the priesthood, because I felt that power from the one at home. I had seen his life change, and mine get better because of those principles. I thanked God for letting me live in northern Germany, become the best version of myself and come back home to a life I also loved.

And then it was November. I was 4 weeks into a transfer of painful silence. I had a companion who had a hard time loving me or most days even getting out of bed. Mail from home felt like the only conversation I had that whole transfer. Except for that mail.

The spirit has a way of warning us of things that could cause us harm. A part of my heart died with that letter, though I hope it never showed on my face, nor in my stride, nor my faith. There was no time to hurt when on the Lord's errand.

Love had changed, that I could accept. But my concept of myself has never been the same. The words hurt, but more than that they cut because they were true. They were all true. I was that terrible person scribbled in small, slanted print on the page. WAS.

But I had changed. But he will never know that.