I've been a member all my life, but I was converted [or began to understand God's word] back in 2005, when I had gone to a camp that emphasized missionary work and had taken reading the Book of Mormon more seriously.
I went into high school shortly after been home schooled from the first grade until that point. I did well in terms of grades, but my biggest trial was my apprehensiveness of interacting with peers that didn't share the exact same values that I had. Because of this, I learned that people within and without the church can be both good or bad [depending on attitude], and that members of our church have spacious array of verbiage vocabulary [We used words either not common or not defined the same as the rest of the world does].
Two years later, I entered into my third year of high school and my first year in college. After another two years, I nearly completed my associates in Graphics, and two classes away from completion when I turn in my papers.
Matter in the MTC
I’ve heard thousands of stories relating to the MTC [missionary Training Center] in Provo, Utah. While I did experience some discomfort [I have claustrophobia, and they keep us in classes for two three hour increments a day], I didn’t think it was as bad as people said; My companion was great, my roommates were [and still are] great, and even after a minor dysfunction our entire district became awesome! Yes, even the orange juice provided those with constipation with good help.
All and All, I was getting rock-happy, and was glad when a small airplane took us away across the great Wyoming sky….
Moving Forth in Missoula
After staying in Billings, Montana for a day, I was shipped out via Gray Hound northward to Missoula. The trip gave me a pretty good idea where I would end up during the next few months after, and gave me a taste of both craziness and goodness that people have.
After being dropped in Missoula, my trainer showed me the ropes around. Missoula was alive in the work, and not just because of the missionaries alone: the member’s proved to be the real power in bring those we taught unto Christ.
I remember feeling at a loss when I was not sure what kind of missionary I should be. I soon learned that I needed to be ME, not some other missionary everyone looked up to-ME. However, I also realized that everyone with deep appreciation for the Gospel came about it the same equation: they studied, prayed, and received answers in some way or another. It was here when I learned what kind of missionary I needed to be.
I was confident I'd stay and my trainer would leave, but I ended up getting the call to go down to Livingston....
Living in Livingston
Everyone told me Livingston was “the windy city”.
I saw some truth at that at times, but it was here where I spent a fall and winter season at once.
The people themselves were great people with heart's of gold and were down to earth.
My companion was great. He was [like everyone else] taller then me, and built like a barrel [he'd lost a lot of weight while being out], and had been through some interesting times. He's was like an adapted brother in a way.
However, spending several holidays reemphasized what I missed back home; Halloween was just like another day [only we could go home earlier], and Christmas Eve was also another day.
It was a letter from an old friend [who passed away just recently] who helped me pull through this time.
All and all, most everyone in Livingston was like an extended family.
Time passed, and I ended up changing companions with one from Maryland [also tall]. I spent a productive transfer [six weeks] with him tracting and setting up Big Timber for missionary work before the Lord called me away to Helena....
Holding out in Helena
Helena, so far, has been yet another great place as well as a refiner's fire. Closing into my year mark, I’ve struggled with missing family back at home, as well as my other brother serving a mission in Wisconsin.
But the service here with my companion has been a good one. We are always kept busy at Food Share, moving people, and simply helping people all around who are both in and outside our faith.
I ended up being there for 3 months, and thought I was going to see my year mark there.
However, the Lord had other plans, as I was sent up to Columbia Falls.
Conclusion…
On the way to my new area, I went to Missoula for a pick up. It was strange just how full circle my year had been as I found myself helping the driver navigate through these once frustrating roads.
After Missoula was the long, six hour drive to Great falls and then to Kalispell where I’d met my new companion.
I’m now stationed in Columbia Falls at my “halfway” mark with yet another year to go. Along with that, our old mission president is leaving and a new one will soon be taking over.
I still have a lot to learn, and with great changes happening in the mission, more great things are yet to come.
God bless those and their loved ones who sacrifice their lives/time for their country, family, and God.
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