January 5th, 2011. My first day in the MTC.
That much-anticipated day where I would start my very own mission, meet my very own district, and start spending every hour of every day with my very own companion. I was pleasantly-surprised at how comfortable and not homesick I felt there. I had left everything behind me--the Emotional Disaster of 2010 was a thing of the past, and I had thrown into the proverbial fire my acceptance letter to attend grad school with Prince William in Scotland. Aside from my family, I had only a few close friends who would be writing me during my mission. None of them were male. And that was exactly how I wanted it.
A fresh start.
A clean slate.
Sans distraction.
An eye single...
and a single heart, for that matter.
And I did it. I made it. There I was, sitting contentedly with my lovely district--my new family--focused on becoming my best missionary self. It was a happy day.
Cue the classroom door opening.
Enter two elders.
Cue my heart both sinking and skipping a beat at the same time.
But don't worry, guys. I got this. It was under control SO fast. Really, though. I mean, who was this young elder to barge in on the first day of my, thus far, perfect mission and trip things up? N-n-no. I probably wouldn't see him again anyway, right? There were over 2,200 missionaries in the MTC, and the only ones I needed were in my district.
So I diligently forgot about it and went along my merry missionary way.
Gym the next day. We circle up for prayer, and I see him. And again at dinner. And again at breakfast. And again at Large Group Meeting. And again at gym. And again at lunch. And again in the halls. And again. And again. And again. Multiple times a day.
Every.
Single.
Day.
Apparently that's what happens when you're in the same MTC zone. Go figure.
Much as some people hate the MTC experience, I loved mine. And not because of Elder Keyes. That was more like a thorn in the flesh than an added bonus at the time, though I naturally feel a keen sense of gratitude in hindsight. I experienced such intense growth, and I had SO much fun with my awesome district. In fact, never in the realms of my pre-mission thought did I anticipate being attracted to an elder on my mission. It just never even crossed my mind. Perhaps that was naive of me. But hey, going into the MTC, I was soon-to-be-24, and I guess subconsciously I assumed that the age gap between me and the 19-year-old elders was protection enough against any kind of interest. Remember in elementary school when you were a 6th grader and you didn't really even notice those 2nd graders because, well, why would you? They were in the same school but in a completely different world than you. Well, I thought I was a 6th grader and that all the elders were 2nd graders. "Your humble pie is served, Hermana Maxwell."
Attraction. Connection. Pull.
I remember feeling it. And sometimes I thought he felt it, too. And I remember resisting it and resenting it, because it would intrude every once-in-awhile on my otherwise-missionary thoughts and emotions. I'd feel a sense of disappointment if we didn't sit near him and his companion at dinner. I'd feel more upbeat when they would play volleyball with the rest of us.
I loathed that those feelings would surface. For those three weeks in the MTC, I used the only means I knew for expressing thoughts and feelings that are both unwelcome and personal. I wrote about it in my journal a few times, hoping that it would just stick on that paper and leave me alone.
And it worked all right. I was a missionary, and I knew my purpose.
My Purpose: To invite others to come unto Christ by helping them receive the restored gospel through faith in Jesus Christ and His Atonement, repentance, baptism, receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost, and enduring to the end.
My Purpose:
My Purpose: To invite others to come unto Christ...
I was determined that I would have no reason to look back and regret my behavior and my time in the MTC. I didn't avoid interaction, because that would be acknowledging the attraction. No, what I did was so much more masochistic than that.
I had Elder Keyes write one of my friends.
And when it tugged at my heartstrings to help him send that letter off, and to feel like he was a bit happier to write it than I wanted him to be, I drowned out the sound of those overactive heartstrings with missionary work. Sweet missionary work.
My (stellar) companion Hermana Olsen and I left the Provo MTC about the same time as Elder Keyes' district. Except for him. He had to wait a couple extra days for that ever-elusive visa. But we had a zone despedida/goodbye meeting the night before the rest of us departed, and I remember thinking how strangely close I had come to feel with not only my district, but also Elder Keyes and his companion over a three-week period. Spiritual experiences beget close relationships. And I remember feeling how completely lame a goodbye handshake felt after the experiences we had all had together. But a good-luck-and-goodbye handshake it was.
And that was it...
Kind of.
To be continued...
No comments:
Post a Comment