Before coming home from my mission, people mentioned to me that it's hard. But no one could prepare me for how hard it would be. The last few weeks of my mission were the best I could have imagined. My companion and I worked as diligently as we could and because of that we saw the miracles. Miracles I had been praying for, and Heavenly Father blessed me by answering those prayers (Week #79). Even though I ended my mission better than I could have imagined, it still didn't change the fact how much I loved the people. How much I loved Croatia. How much I loved being a missionary (Week #76). One night about 5 weeks before I went home, my companion said that I was just denying how excited I was to go home and wanted to stop being a missionary. I looked at her and said firmly, "No. I love being a missionary." I then just started sobbing. I couldn't control it. I didn't want to stop being a missionary. I didn't want this time to end. I knew there would be no other time I would be a young full-time missionary ever again.
As mentioned in my last e-mail (Week #79), the last few days I was a hot mess. I remember the last bus ride to our apartment. We had just finished a fantastic lesson with my brother and sister from Rijeka who were the first Croats I met when I had arrived 17 months earlier. I was so happy. I couldn't contain myself. Then I thought about going home in 2 days. I started bawling. I was leaving. I then got excited because faces of people came into my mind. My mom, my dad, sisters, brother, in-laws, nieces, a nephew, and 3 nephews I hadn't even met yet. Friends and family who I love and have missed so dearly. I looked out the window. We were coming up a hill. The hill which you could see all of Rijeka and the sea so perfectly. The lights were shining so brilliantly on the buildings, the stars on the sea, and the boats in the distance. The tears came slower this time but steadily. How could I leave? How could I just continue on when I got home? My companion and I sat on the balcony enjoying a watermelon together reminiscing on the good times, laughing over the awkward times and talking about all the miracles that will happen to these amazing people even when I'm home.
Then before I knew it I was on a plane. I thought about the night before with my mission president, his family, and other missionaries who these countries were going to miss dearly. Who I was going to miss dearly. On the plane rides home, I still was able to have missionary experiences which comforted me. But the most uncomfortable I felt the entire time wasn't when I had to try to sleep through a 16 hour flight, wasn't when I left my companion being alone for the first time, it was when I was in the Denver airport. People were speaking English. There were people with cowboy hats and boots. It was all so strangely familiar, but how come I felt like I would feel more comfortable on an old bus with people who only knew Croatian with no air conditioning in 35 degree Celsius weather? Why did I feel so alone when people were speaking my native tongue? It's because I was transitioning. I was about to start my next destination.
Transitions are the worst. It's such an awkward and hard time. It's like driving a stick shift. It's hard to get used to especially for the first time or driving a car or truck you have never driven before. But if you want to get somewhere, you have to go through it. You have to try changing the gears even if it gives a weird sound. You have to balance the pedals. Sometimes make those scary left turns hoping that the car doesn't kill. Sometimes going up hill and then the car killing anyways. But you don't just sit there and give up. You start the car up again because it's worth it. You have to have faith that where you are going is better than where you are now-in the car and in life. It stinks sometimes especially when you loved the place that you were at and you don't want an ending. But the thing is that it isn't an ending. It's a beginning. As Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf said at this last general conference, "The more we learn about the gospel of Jesus Christ, the more we realize that endings here in mortality are not endings at all. They are merely interruptions--temporary pauses that one day will seem small compared to the eternal joy awaiting the faithful...there are no true endings, only everlasting beginnings." It isn't in our nature to love endings, but if we see with an eye of faith, we will be glad (Ether 12:19). We will see that every ending is a beginning.
As I have come home, I have found some bumps in the road. I have "killed" the car a few times. But I also have gotten to many places where I want and need to be. I have met so many amazing people along the way. And I have faith that as I continue to change gears and move forward, I will get to the destination where I want to be with my Heavenly Father and brother, Jesus Christ. If you feel like you are stuck in the ditch, look up. There's someone there ready to teach you how to get out. I know this. I can't believe how many times He has answered me and helped me even though I'm very dumb and stubborn sometimes. But He is still there. He loves me. And He loves you. He's there for you. He's there to teach you how to move forward and has given you the tools how. Keep going. Keep smiling. There is hope. Volim vas.
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