The other day I was in Famous Footwear, mission shopping for the umpteenth time with my mother. We had just returned a bunch of flats that weren't going to work for the mission, and we were on our way to look for another sturdy pair for when I'm walking the streets of rural Paraguay. As we walked to the back of the store, we passed rows and rows of summery sandals, lacey oxfords, and my favorite, a very classic, red, three-inch heel. As we looked, my sweet mom handed me a pair of shoes. If you can imagine classic sister missionary shoes, these were it. Black suede with a thick sole and a heavy tread. They were no doubt, the ugliest, most disgusting flats I have ever seen. "Try them on." So I did. I put them on and I realized they fit, they were comfortable, and they were on clearance. (If you've ever been mission shopping, you know at that point, the sale has already been made.) And as I strapped them on, I looked up and I saw the red pumps, in all their slender, curvaceous glory. This is going to sound so stupid, but I just started to cry. I don't know! I just looked at those beautiful shoes and I looked down at the clunky unfeminine ones I was wearing and the difference just made me lose it. My poor mom had been dealing with me all this time and she just let me have a minute without really making a big deal, but I can only imagine how frustrating it must have been for her, her daughter crying about heels in the shoe store.
I feel lately I've been asked to do a lot of things that are difficult, all at once. And I'm expected to move forward with a smile on my face. Sometimes I don't want to smile about it, dangit! Ha! It's hard! It's hard for me to think about serving in Paraguay, and knowing that I'm giving up everything. I kind of had a concept when I signed up for this that I would be giving up a lot of stuff for my mission-- my family, my friends, time for my education, things like that. I didn't realize I would also be giving up short hair, home security, personal space, the ability to wear pants, cultural adeptness, confidence in myself, and those perfect red shoes!
And I guess that any rational person would realize this, but I didn't! I didn't. To me, putting in my mission papers was more about showing my love to my God and fulfilling a goal I've had my entire life. I knew I was signing up for an experience, but I didn't understand the sacrifice. I'm sure I still don't understand the extent of the sacrifice-- I haven't seen the size of my suitcases yet. It's a lot to put on my own plate. I'm 18. I don't know anything. I don't know if I can do this.
So I'm trying to not think about it! I'm trying to focus on why I decided to go on a mission in the first place: I love the Savior Jesus Christ. I love Him. I love the Father.
And that's gotta be enough! I just hope that someday I look back and read this post and I kind of laugh to myself. I hope that I look back and I laugh and I say, "What I gained was so much better than wearing red heels." Elder Platt is a big believer in hope. He's excellent at it. If he was here, he would say something about how I have to have hope that the Lord has a better plan and we'll be better for it. I hope that I will be changed by the mission, and that, through the Father's great work, others will be changed by me. Hymn number 29 sings, "Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven."
Let's hope one of those blessings comes in the form of cute shoes.
No comments:
Post a Comment