Mission Journals

Sometimes as I think about my mission it is super easy to focus on numbers. So many times people ask "so how many people did you baptize?"

I hate that question. To me it's comparable to saying "hey let's rank how well your mission went". But mostly, sometimes I feel like when talking about numbers, I didn't do much.

As I go through my mission journals  so many memories flood back to me. I didn't realize how many people I actually got to know and experience the spirit with. Many times on a mission you meet many people, but not everyone progresses (sometimes it just isn't their time). And sometimes, for me at least, it is easy to forget these simple tender moments when the spirit worked through me.

Tonight, I remember Estefani, a less active member of the church. We had received her name through the Elders. If I remember correctly, they contacted her on the street. We received her name right before transfers, but were never able to locate her. One night, as I was leading the area with my new companion our last appointment of the night had cancelled and we found ourselves in a neighborhood where we usually didn't work. Our plan b had failed and we were at a loss. So we flipped through our agendas and bam! Estefani's name came up. 

So we went. 

We knocked. And knocked. Knocked s'more. 

The problem was that she lived on the second floor and the gate at the bottom was closed. There was no way she could ever know we were down there. So we did the next logical thing and yelled her name. 

Only half a dozen times. 

Still no answer, so we started to leave. 

When we hear a voice from above. 

And there she was. We entered. We asked about her life, she shared her trials. We applied the doctrine of the atonement and repentance. The spirit was present. She was ready to come back. 

When I was transferred out of the area we were still working with her and I have no idea how she is today. I pray she is well. I pray that the spirit we felt with her has helped her feel the need to grow closer to Heavenly Father. 

As a missionary you don't get to see or know all of the fruits of your labor. I certainly have had times when I doubted if I was even making a difference. But what I have learned is that the difference is made when we let the spirit testify truth through us. When we know we are exactly where God wants us to be. When our words are not our words. When we help one soul draw closer to their Father, we make a difference. 

Though I don't know what has happened to Estefani, I know in the moments I was with her we made a difference. And that is all that matters. 

Even the smallest moments matter. For "...by small and simple things are great things brought to pass; and small means in many instances doth confound the wise" (Alma 37:6). 

With love,

Carolina