I was sad. My heart was just heavy...
I had stayed up too late the night before, and it seemed like no matter how hard I tried I wouldn't be able to do anything productive all day.
I was having a dark day; a type of day I hadn't had for a long time.
Mourning seems the only way to describe it. The afternoon brought this giant monster of melancholic emotions for every experience I was missing as a missionary. I started crying and I couldn't stop until later that night. Long walks and prayers did little to soothe. I can only imagine how crazy I looked walking down 900 East with mascara streaked tears all over my face.
It was like those days in the MTC when my heart used to yell the repeated cry of "Why? Why am I here, instead of the place I would rather be?"
I kept thinking of how good my life in Provo is, and that there's little I have need of. But this good life isn't what I wanted for myself a year ago, and it's definitely not the life I wanted on that dark day. It's not what my heart wished for.
A few days later I read a scripture I've read dozens of time before from one of my favorite chapters in the Book of Mormon:
3 But behold, I am a man, and do sin in my wish; for I ought to be content with the things which the Lord hath allotted unto me.
And then a few verses later...
6 Now, seeing that I know these things, why should I desire more than to aperform the work to which I have been called?
I think it's part of human nature to want to make these grand gestures that benefit humanity, like saving
African babies, or buying cows for villages in little South American villages, or serving as a missionary in South Korea. But if the Lord is already providing us simpler ways to be a better Christ-like person, shouldn't we be content with starting there?
A couple days ago, I got another calling in the ward. As I talked with someone about what my responsibilities would be, he said I would kind of be like a senior companion, just like the mission.... One of the things I mourn from mission life, for many different reasons, was that I never got the chance to serve long enough to be a senior companion. So when this person said that,
it was just more confirmation.
God still knows me. He's still watching out for me. I just have to remember not to keep myself hidden.
Peace, Be Still Arnold Freiburg