3 Years Ago this Week

I just realized that three years ago this week I returned home from my mission in the Southside of Chicago. Which means five years ago this week I first entered the MTC. It is really crazy how time goes by so fast. I look back on my mission with great fondness, it was in the field and on the streets of Chicago that I really grew up. I was forced to. I was 2,000 miles away from everyone I knew and from anyone that really knew me. In the beginning I was scared, not really sure why exactly I was out there, and really afraid that I wouldn't succeed. I didn't have my mom and dad to run to, to tell how I felt, and to ask advice. I didn't have any friends that I could vent to, that I could be around just to make myself feel better. I only had one source of strength and comfort to turn to - Jesus Christ.

I decided that first night in the mission home that I was going to give it my all. And I did, try really hard to do just that, I studied, I prayed, I tracted, I taught, I even baptized a few times. I never became unafraid, not really of the areas I was in- there were some shady ones- but I was never afraid to be in them, I was afraid of failing. Of missing that person that I needed to find, of letting down that One person who I realized was the only person I could lean on. I was afraid that there was going to be someone who needed to know who the Savior is and that I might not be there to tell them. I tried really hard to be successful, and I hope that I was, I never was able to quantify what being a successful missionary was. My mission meant everything to me, for the longest time that was all I could think about. I still think about it almost every day. There is always something that reminds me of it.












I miss how sure of everything I was. I knew that God loved me, that Jesus died for my sins, that there is a plan for me to return to live with them someday. I knew it, I fully believed it, and I taught it with the conviction of knowing it. Then three years ago I came home, back to the world I left behind.

Realizing how long ago it was that I came home from the mish has led me to some serious introspection. The real world hit me faster than I was prepared for. I started to slip into the old routine of things, casually forgetting to say a prayer at night, not reading my scriptures. And I have realized how easily not doing those two things makes it to not do other things. Someone once told me that the only way you really could measure a successful missionary was a few years after they got home, by the way they were living. If that is the case I feel like a failure.

I have lost that surety that I once had. I have let my testimony slide. I feel like one of my favorite church paintings....well almost. Here it is and then I will explain.

The painting is by Greg Olsen and it is called "Lost and Found". It is a painting that I have always loved and kept in my room. Right now more than ever does it make sense to me. I feel very lost. I know that I have to make a decision soon if I want to be found. Right now I am the boy in the picture. I can see Christ on the park bench a little ways in the distance, and I know He is saving a place for me on that bench. That as soon as I sit down next to Him, He will hug me, tell me He has missed me, and as I try to explain why I left the bench three years ago, He will tell me that it doesn't matter, that I am here now, and what matters is what I do from here on out. He will let me know that He will be there for me when I am tempted to get up off the bench if I want Him to be. I turn around and I can see another life,it is just as inviting but the the pathway down is a little darker, more mysterious, but enticing, and I have to decide now which direction I am going to start walking towards. In the last three years I have semi-unconsciously taken a few steps away from the park bench. Now I realize that I have to consciously decide what I direction I need to take.

I have avoided making this decision for as long as I can take, I procrastinate everything I do, but the deadline is up, if I continue to procrastinate I know I will be taking a few more steps away from the park bench, and I don't think I can afford to do that if I want to make a fully conscious decision.

The decision should be easy, I know the outcome of taking steps towards the park bench, I know that it leads to a fulfilling happiness, or at least that it has in the past. Taking steps in the other direction lead me to short lived moments of extreme happiness that leave you with a dull feeling inside once they leave, making me do whatever it takes to get my next fix.

And so it goes, B-rad at the apex of a crossroads, at home plate ready to bat. The pitcher is ready to throw the ball and I have to decide if I am going to swing or not. And if I do swing am I really going to go for it-the ball out of the park home run, or am I going to hit a pop fly, guaranteed to get myself out.

I don't know why I am writing this here, for the world (also known as the four of you who read this) to see, but I felt like I had to. I wish I had the certainty that I once had, where I knew the answers or at least really knew who I could turn to for the answers.

Anyways thanks for listening, I am sure the decision I make will be evident, I should probably stop blogging in the middle of the night, maybe I will just delete this, chances are I will probably fall asleep and forget I ever wrote it until a week from now....or most likely after American Idol and I come on here to blog my opinion of the week and realize how lame I am for writing this. oh well I will leave it on here, so I don't feel like I have wasted the last hour and a half. For now I am going to go pass out on my bed for hopefully ten hours, wake up ready for a new day of soul searching and decision making.