So, here's the deal. I needed a fresh start. Those of you who followed my blog before may have noticed that the letters haven't been coming for a while. Some of them haven't been fully up to par for public viewing. Some of them just haven't been posted in the chaos that has consumed our lives for the past few weeks. As many of you know, on February 13th, 2013, I entered the Missionary Training Center for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints as a newly set-apart sister missionary. I was ready to take on the world - particularly the world of the teeney tiny Chile Santiago North Mission to which I had been called. A few weeks into my training, an old injury began to come back. Something was very wrong with my foot. I realized that walking a few steps a day in pain would be nothing compared to the 15 miles a day that I would need to do once I got to Chile. I began going to doctor... after doctor... after doctor. Nobody could fix me and nobody could tell me what was wrong. After several extensions, they could not keep me there any longer, and I was sent home. I have now been home for one week. At first, it was SO HARD. I was mortified. I was frustrated. I was so disappointed. I felt like I had failed. Like I had failed the Church, my God, my family, the people of Chile, my friends, my wards, my teachers, and everyone else. Then I got over it. I changed my attitude. Just because I'm not wearing my precious name tag doesn't mean that I have to stop being a missionary. I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and, as such, a representative of Jesus Christ at all times and in all things and in all places. No matter what. Even when I'm forced to stay home and lie on my couch.
I don't know when I will be healed or when I will get to put that name tag back on, but I do know one thing:
God can heal a foot. Any. Time. He. Wants. That time just isn't now. There is something I need to learn from this, and hopefully there is something that a lot of other people can learn as well. Maybe He will heal it tomorrow. Maybe next year. I don't know. But I know that He loves me. And I know that He loves you. No matter who you are or where you are or what past mistakes you've made or things you've done. He loves you. So much. That's what I know.
On that note, I've decided to continue writing letters. In the next few days I'll transfer all of the old letters over here and dig up some of the ones that were never posted. And then, I'll just continue. Yep. That's what I'm gonna do. Don't be afraid of me. Some people think that because I'm an "injured missionary" I shouldn't be talked to or made direct eye contact with. WRONG. I'm DYING to talk to people. I'm DYING to teach and share the gospel and tell people about their loving Heavenly Father. Especially if you speak spanish. Especially. Welpt. That's all for today! I'll just keep living the dream! Hopefully you will too.