#Broken

When I was younger, I always wanted a nickname. I would try and try to think of really good nicknames and get them to stick. But no success. Everyone would just call me my first name.However, since I’ve been on a mission, it seems like the nicknames won’t stop coming.

They call me:

#Philahontas

#TheHikingSister

#ThePrankingSister

#TheRumorSister

#MoneyPenny

#DoughHead

Some came from my mission president, some from my companions, and some just from other missionaries. And they’ve all got a story. They can all be explained. Just not in this post. That would take way too long. And ain’t nobody got time for that.Like any nickname though, these have come and gone, depending on where I’m at and who I’m with. But there’s one that’s grown with me on my mission. One that’s really stuck. It’s become pretty well known. And that is:

#TheBrokenMissionary

Let me explain. I’m pretty much the sister missionary equivalent to Disney’s “Wreck-it Ralph.” Everything I touch, breaks. I have a reputation for it: I drop all of the things. I knock over all of the things. I (accidentally) delete all of the things.

The struggle is real. And not just for me. Because it seems like all of my companions break when they’re with me. All of them! They get sick. I’m talking deathly ill. So sick that they can’t eat anything. #notadangthing! I’m the perfect diet plan.  #ItsSadButTrue #Sorry #IDidntDoIt #OrAtLeastIDidntMeanTo

So on missions, there are these things called statistics. And I’m honestly not a huge fan of them, because I don’t think success can really be measured with numbers. But a few other things can be measured with numbers. Here are a few of mine:

I’ve been out 14 months. I’ve had 6 homes. 6 vacuums. 6 phones. 7 cars. 4 iPads. 14 companions (Yep, 14). A lot of sick days. And quite a few priesthood blessings for my own weird health challenges. All of that, in 5 areas.For those of you who haven’t served a mission, take my word for it, those are pretty big numbers. And they, have in part, made my nickname stick.

After a while, that name–the broken missionary–has started to get to me. It’s not always fun or easy to be known as a “problem missionary“. People automatically think since you’ve had so many companions that there must be something wrong with you. Everyone has a designated blame guy, and when you’ve already got a reputation for breaking things, it’s easy to become everyone else’s blame guy. And it’s easy to start thinking, if I’m just going to get in trouble, or if I’m just causing more stress out here, then what’s the point? Am I really doing any good?

Have any of you ever experienced this? Maybe not as a missionary, but in life in general? Maybe you don’t fit in at school. Or work. Or in your family. Have you ever felt like an outcast? Have you ever felt broken?

Well, I have, for sure. And a few weeks back, this broken sister missionary was reaching her breaking point.

I remember one difficult night, I was on the verge of tears. It seemed like everything was going wrong. I felt like I was adding more stress on everyone. My companion. My mission president. The entire Oregon Portland Mission. And I was sick of it. And I was pretty sure that all of them were sick of me as well. And then, while my companion and I were driving home, a song came on. It was a CD that my family had sent me. And the song was all about being broken. I don’t know the name. And I don’t know the singer. But the words have really stuck with me. They go something like this:

“Broken clouds give rain. Broken soil grows grain. Broken bread feeds man for one more day.

Broken storms yield light. Break of day heals night. Broken pride turns blindness into sight.

 

Chorus: Broken souls that need his mending. Broken hearts for offering. Could it be that God loves broken things?

 

Broken chains set free. Broken swords bring peace. Broken walls make friends of you and me.

To break the ranks of sin. To break the news of Him. To put on Christ ’til his name feels broken in.

 

Chorus

 

And yet our broken faith, our broken promises, send love to the cross.

And still that broken flesh, and broken heart of His, offers us such grave and mercy, covers us with love undeserving.

 

This broken soul that cries for mending. This broken heart for offering. I’m convinced that God loves broken me.”

Those might not be the exact words. And it repeats some stuff at the end. But that’s the gist of it.Anyways. That song helped me a lot. It was an answer to a prayer. God knows me. God cares about us. He loves us. Even if we are broken. As a matter of fact, I think He expects us to be broken. Maybe not all of the time, but we all have breaking points in life. And at least for me, it seems like that’s when I rely on Him the most.

In my first area out here, there was a woman who I worked with quite a bit. She had a really rough life. There were a lot of this going against her. I’ll never forget this one thing she said though. She said, “You know how people always say that God only gives us what we can handle? Well that’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard. God doesn’t just give us what we can handle, He gives us a little more than what we can handle, so that we have to turn to Him.”

I love that. And I know it’s true.

There’s a scripture that I’ve always loved and for any of you who are familiar with the Book of Mormon, you’ll probably know it. It’s 1 Nephi 3:7. It says:

“I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.”

Nephi doesn’t say that God only gives us commandments that we can accomplish, but He gives us commandments that He can help us accomplish. He shows us how. That’s why it’s so important to always turn to Him.I’ve seen that in my life, and I’ve seen it on my mission. I know that hard things happen. I know sometimes we feel broken. And it can be easy to feel like there’s no hope, or no purpose. But I know that there’s always hope. And we each have a purpose. And when we feel broken, when we feel lost and confused, the person we should turn to is God. Because He knows how to help us. And He wants to. And He will. Our problems won’t go away; I’m still going to be clumsy and still probably break some more stuff, but I know that God loves me anyways. He loves us the way we are, quirks and all. And that’s all that matters. Everything doesn’t have to make sense now. Everything doesn’t have to be perfect right now, but it can be in His timing. God is real. He is present in our lives. He lives. He loves us. And if we turn to Him, He can take our broken lives and mend them.