It’s the same battle every year. I tell myself I will not write a blog post commemorating the day my mission came to a close, but I always end up caving and writing something anyway.

How can I not? Despite all my complicated and seemingly contradictory feelings about my mission, those 18 months – the hardest, most grueling, frustrating, and joyous months of my life thus far – changed me in such a way that I can’t not pay homage to it somehow.

Three years. Has it really been that long? I will never forget sitting in the chapel for that last transfer meeting. While waiting for it to begin, a sudden prompting came over me: Your parents are here. I knew in that moment they’d pulled into the parking lot. I waited a little bit longer, then couldn’t stand the anticipation. I quickly hurried to the chapel doors. When I got there I saw the most beautiful sight sore eyes needed: my parents walking in the church building. I ran to them, threw my arms around my mother, and started crying.

Relief flooded through me when I saw my mom and dad. All of the burdens I’d been carrying inside of me fell. I knew, for the first time in 18 months, that I was again in the company of people who truly knew me, understood me, listened to me, cared about me, and loved me unconditionally.

The next day I cried different tears. We sat on our plane, taxiing out for our return to Ohio. That’s when it really hit me: my mission is over. I no longer shoulder the mantel of a full-time, set apart representative of the Lord. Gone would be my schedule of morning study, finding people, teaching lessons every day, and immersing myself in the gospel. Gone would be speaking Spanish at every opportunity and living in a culture I loved and felt a part of. It would be back to the grind of “regular” life.

I cried so hard on the plane as it was taxiing out that my parents just stared at me. I mourned the fact that I’d have to stop wearing my name tag and would be back to Kim, not Hermana anymore. I quietly asked God to let me see my mission one last time before the plane took off. It turned and as we continued our taxi down the runway, I saw that famous “C” on one of the mountains in Magna. It was a bit of a silly request, but in that moment I knew God loved me, cared about me, and understood that even though I had some hard feelings about some of my mission experiences, I really did love it.

Why? Why did I love my mission so much even though I was hurt by some of my mission leaders?

Because my testimony grew. Because I got to know my God and my Savior on a very real, deep, and personal level – deeper than I’d ever gotten before.

I’d always known Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are real. But before my mission, they felt very far away. I’d had experiences where I’d felt their presence, but it wasn’t a firm, constant knowledge that they are close to me all the time.

While serving my mission my communication was minimal with my family – emails once a week and then a phone call twice a year. That was tough, especially since I don’t open up to others easily. It’s hard when you’re put into a companionship with someone for a minimum of six weeks, but from day one you two have to work in harmony. You have to get to know each other fast, which isn’t my pace. There were plenty of times I felt that companions and leaders thought they knew me inside and out. The truth was, most missionaries out in the field barely scratched the surface. Just because they walked in on the mission chapter of my life and shared that in common with me, it didn’t mean they knew me.

But Heavenly Father and Christ knew me inside and out – better than even I know myself. My testimony of Their reality and divinity was cemented in late January 2014 when I suffered my mental breakdown. My leaders offered no support. I had to get through it by myself – or so I thought. Through that time, I felt strength, comfort, and love like I’d never felt them before. It was a quiet, steady burning that kept me going through the darkest time of my life.

Since then, I’ve known with a surety that God and Jesus Christ are real. Yet three years later, sometimes I still have problems completely trusting them. The last month and half has been a trying time for me personally. My impatience has gotten in the way of my happiness. There have been plenty of times I’ve thought, “Seriously, God? I don’t need this right now! Why aren’t you answering my prayers and helping me?!”

The past day or so I’ve been thinking about the hymn How Firm a Foundation, which is one of my favorites. Verses 3, 4, and 5 mean a lot to me right now:

Fear not, I am with thee; oh be not dismayed,
For I am thy God and will still give thee aid.
I’ll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand,
… Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.

When through the deep waters I call thee to go
The rivers of sorrow shall not thee o’erflow,
For I will be with thee, they troubles to bless,
… And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.

When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie,
My grace, all sufficient, shall be thy supply.
The flame shall not hurt thee; I only design
… Thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine.

Today while in the temple I couldn’t help but feel thankful for everything Heavenly Father has done for me in the past three years. My life hasn’t played out like I thought it would. I’m definitely not married and I honestly don’t know if it’ll happen. I haven’t found my dream job (in fact, I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up). I don’t even have my own place yet. A lot of the time I feel like I’m barely hanging on.

There’s one picture from my mission that I used to absolutely hate. My companion wanted to get pictures of us outside the church building for a social media post about “Sunday will come.” We had a little photo session which I wasn’t too thrilled about because I’m camera shy. Here’s the picture that I hated:

My companion loved this photo. I loathed it, mainly because two elders saw it and started having a field day with it, saying they wanted to photshop cookies falling into my mouth. It made me so self conscious that I forbade my companion from using it for her photo project. Over the years, though, I’ve come to really love this picture and all it symbolizes.

First, this was taken in my last area on the mission – Granger, where I stayed for the last 6 transfers of my mission (half my mission). That area was my refiner’s fire and I grew the most there. I love the shadows and light. Despite the dark times of my mission, which I can’t deny were there, there was a lot of personal joy and happiness. There’s more light than shadow in the picture. And, after years of looking at this, I like that smile. Uncle Howard caught me in the middle of a pure, natural laugh. That, right there, is the face of joy.

Fear not, I am with thee.

Even through trials.
Even through valleys.
Even through storms.

Fear not.

Because, honestly, with God by our side, joy is everywhere.