Gratitude - Something I learned as a Missionary

Who arrives at the airport two hours before your 45-minute domestic flight and on top of that, mixes up the airline? People like me, who are so confident that the flight is 6am via Westjet, that they don’t check the email just to make sure you’re not getting your parents out of bed an hour before needed. Yeah, I go do my self-serve check-in at the Westjet area and the only Kelowna flight for this morning leaves at 8am. I thought to myself, “Dang it, I could’ve slept in for another two hours! Or was the flight cancelled? Maybe the flight was indeed cancelled cuz the girl I took the bus to the airport with on the same flight was saying how her flight was also at 6am… so there must be a 6am flight here!” But I clicked on the 8am flight anyways, and they couldn’t find my name on the reservation list. I was worried! So I pull out my laptop and check my email (thank heavens for free wi-fi!) and it was at 6:50am via Air Canada. You’d think I remember if I had booked on an airline I didn’t like, eh? So I had to walk to the other side of the airport (which wasn’t a worry as I was an hour early for check-in) but it all worked out. I’m just here waiting for the boarding call which isn’t for another 50 minutes, but I get to update my blog during the wait. So it all worked out! And I might buy myself a muffin at Timmy’s!

Before I go off and continue my mini mission adventures, I just need to let something off my chest. It is this: I know that my redeemer lives! I love my Saviour so much. I love Him so much, I’m scared this feeling I feel right now will go away and I’ll forget this desire I feel to be better. I have so much I need to work on. I’m so imperfect and I have so many weaknesses and I’ve made so many mistakes. And yet, I’m still loved by God and the Saviour, and because of that love, He took a chance on me (and you and everyone else) and died for us. Words can’t describe the love I feel for my Saviour. I know He lives. I know He is aware of my feelings, my frustrations, my yearnings, my sadness, my obstacles, and that He has wept through every single tear that ran down my cheek.

I wish everyone in the world knew this, because if they did, they would have the privilege that I have of feeling this amazing, warm, fuzzy feeling I feel. I love my Saviour! I know He lives. He loves YOU – yes you. And no matter how unworthy or inadequate we may feel, He loves us and He wants us to involve Him in our lives. I just love that. I love my Saviour so much.

Lately I’ve dedicated my scripture studies to New Testament and all the stories of Jesus and my love for him grows more than I could possibly imagine. Hey, maybe I’ll do posts about each story! I seriously love the story of the Pharisee and the publican, the adulterous woman, the one where Mary weeps to Jesus over her brother’s death, the father who admits his unbelief when asking the Saviour to heal his son, and the one where the woman touches Jesus’ clothing as he’s walking by her. Okay, so I still don’t have a favourite. I will totes do a post on my favourite scripture stories. I don’t really have a favourite prophet or story. Right now my favourite Book of Mormon one is stripling warriors though!

Okay, mini mission. So for those of you who don’t live in Canada or aren’t aware of this, yesterday was Thanksgiving Day in Canada! So I’d like to talk about something on my mini mission that taught me to be grateful, and it was serving among the humble people of the Brazilian “favelas”.

Like I said and always say, being a missionary was the best hardest thing I’ve done. I look back on

that experience with nothing but tenderness and love. I miss it so very much and would go back any second. I miss all the streets, the houses, my companions, my leaders, the other missionaries I met, the people I taught, the members, the food (I served in Minas Gerais, and the Mineiros are the best cooks in Brazil I’ve been told), everything! I was the happiest when I was out in the Brazilian slums sharing the gospel. I love this gospel so much. I miss the favelas, as weird as that sounds!

One important lesson I learned as a missionary was to focus on what really matters. Now, before I say this, I want all you North American readers to know that Brazil is not a dirt hole or 100% impoverished (it actually pisses me off when I hear narrow-minded hicks say stuff like that). There is a lot more poverty there than in North America, that is true. But the main thing about Brazil that strikes me the most is how heterogeneous the social classes are. Rich, middle-class and poor don’t mix. I never been in a slum not because I saw myself above them, but mainly for safety and because it’s how the culture is down there.

So my first time going into slums was as a missionary. I was perfectly fine and in fact I wondered why the heck I’d been so scared of them my whole life. I always imagined people there were miserable and always suffering because of their limited resources, but that wasn’t the case at all. People there taught me how to live happy lives without all the luxury, the technology, the gadgets, a couch, a car, etc. They taught me so much! They taught me to be grateful, to prioritize, to understand what really matters in life. Indeed, as a missionary, I was able to learn a lot more than I was able to teach. Those humble people I had the privilege to meet taught me so much more than any of my professors holding PhD’s ever did. They were beautiful people. I would give anything to see them again and express my feelings for them.

They were incredibly receptive to the gospel too. It was amazing how much they yearned to draw close to God, despite the circumstances which they faced. It’s so much easier to believe in God when you always have food on your table and you live in a nice house, and yet I have complained about trials that were so minimal, so insignificant, so trivial, compared to theirs. And unlike me, they just kept smiling and held true to their faith no matter what. So, as crazy as this sounds, I love Brazilian slums!! I felt close to God when I was there. Why? Because the people there had the most amazing hearts I’ve ever encountered and there were no distractions of the world there. Sure, crime rates were high, people would swear, kids were exposed to immorality. But the faithful were the most faithful I have ever met. Does that make sense?

Here’s another interesting fact: Each slum (or hill) has its “owner”, kind of like a mafia leader. Him and one or two others would stand on the top of the hill to see who was coming and going to and from the hill. If you didn’t belong to that slum, the owner would send his “troops” to shoot you. Well, as missionaries, we went in and out of different slums and never had our lives threatened. Why? Well, when the owners of each hill saw us coming to the hill, they’d say “they are representing Christ, they bring something good. They can come and go as much as they want!” So I like to think I had VIP access to Brazilian slums, which I find pretty awesome! It just softens my heart that even those violent and dangerous people knew we were representing Christ.

I was definitely protected there. One night my companions and I had to go stalk an investigator who

was hiding from us but it was late at night (okay, missionary late like 8PM) but it’s incredibly dangerous to be in the slums at that time. But we had to go up the hill. We left our stuff at a member’s house and said a prayer that we might be protected on our way up the hill. You guys, I don’t know how to explain this but I felt overwhelmed with the spirit as we went up. I just knew we were being guarded by an army of angels so that no harm would come upon us. I wish I could articulate and describe the physical and spiritual feelings I felt at that moment. And yes, see how I added physical there? Yeah, I physically felt angels with us at that moment.

So you’re probably wondering what all of this has to do with gratitude. Well, I developed a lot more gratitude serving there. I learned to appreciate my knowledge of the gospel when I saw people who were so lost and distant from the truth. I learned to appreciate the fact that I had food and shelter. I learned to appreciate the gift of the Holy Ghost, which came in handy for me there! Now, I don’t want to give you the impression that I’m looking down on these people as inferior because they don’t have those blessings; in fact, their hearts were so much better than mine. Their spirits must have been so strong in the pre-mortal realm that Heavenly Father knew they’d be able to endure the hardships of their circumstances, which they did with grace and dignity. They were so amazing.

Remember that story I told you guys last week of the missionary whose friend in the pre-mortal realm was called to live in an underdeveloped nation without the gospel so he said, “Come and find me”? I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the people I taught also asked me to go and find them when we were friends before coming to Earth. Indeed, “(…) the fullness of [His] gospel might be proclaimed by the weak and the simple (…) before kings and rulers” (D&C 1:23). They may not live in big fancy houses or own cars, or have so much as a High School diploma, but they were my superiors in many ways and I learned so much from them!

Man, I miss my mini mission so much. Every time I remember the streets, the hot dog stands, the air, and the shops that we walked through to get home every night I just feel really nostalgic. I miss every second of it and it makes me incredibly sad when I hear stories of people who have no desire to serve. Not because I believe they’ll be cursed for not going at all (which I don’t believe), but because I feel sorry they won’t get to experience what I did. It’s an amazing unique feeling that words can’t describe. I recommend serving a mission if you’re thinking about going!! Obviously it’s not for everyone and the Lord has a different plan for each and every one of us. But if you felt His approval for this decision, go for it. It is the best hardest thing you will ever do!

Here goes my thanktimony: I’m grateful the gospel of Jesus Christ has been restored. I’m grateful for Joseph Smith’s question and that he sought for an answer. I’m grateful for my Saviour who is aware of our challenges and feelings. I’m grateful I had the opportunity to serve my master. I’m grateful that I can honestly say that I know this church is true, and that living the gospel brings eternal happiness. I love this gospel! I’m also grateful to all you readers!