Afraid to Go to Church

     In June of this year, I received my mission call.

"Dear Elder Jorgensen:

You are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. You are assigned to labor in the Philippines Angeles Mission. It is anticipated that you will serve for a period of 24 months.

You should report to the Philippines Missionary Training Center on Friday, September 13th, 2013. You will prepare to preach the gospel in the Tagalog language."

     The Philippines! Crazy! Speaking the Tagalog (tuh-GA-lohg) language? And what's really crazy, is that my best friend Patrick was called to the Philippines speaking Tagalog as well! It was just an absolutely overwhelming experience.

     But wait, Friday, September 13th, 2013? Wasn't that, like, a month ago? Yes, it was EXACTLY a month ago. So that makes it pretty obvious. I'm not on my mission. And for many reasons (which I prefer to keep to myself) I won't be able to go for another year. But honestly, I don't think I'm going to. After what I've gone through in the past month and 10 days, I don't think a mission is for me. I've gone through too many phases to count.

     My first reaction when I was told (only 10 days before I was supposed to leave) that I couldn't serve a mission, was to cry. And I did. It was only me and the Stake President in his office. But I can only say that I wouldn't have wanted anyone else to tell me. He was gentle and kind about it. That would never stop me from being a complete wreck, though. So as I drove home, I had no idea what to do. My entire life just changed. The 2 years I had planned ahead of me were gone. So who do I call? Why my good friend Patrick, of course. Yes, I told him before I even told my parents. Patrick is an amazing guy. I really couldn't ask for a better friend. And I've never hear him cry, except for that moment when I told him, through my tears, that I wouldn't be serving in the Philippines with him. That we couldn't go to BYU in two years, as roommates and speak Tagalog together and annoy everyone with mission stories. Sadly, that dream is behind us.

     *Just for the record*: Patrick left on his mission this past Wednesday. Serving in Quezon City North. As far as I know, he's doing very well so far. He's in the MTC in Manila, the capital of the Philippines. He is going to be an incredible missionary; the Philippines couldn't ask for anyone better.

      Once I arrived at home I told my mom, she cried. My dad came home, my mom told him, he cried. I told my amazing big sister, Jenny. I don't know if she cried, but she definitely comforted me. (I think she was just happy I wouldn't be leaving for two years. She would've missed me too much.) So pretty much, everything was wet with tears, and I didn't like that.

     That was a Friday. Saturday consisted of me crying and doing nothing, so I'll skip to Sunday. I did not go to church. The Sunday previous was my farewell. Yeah, that's right, I'd already done my farewell. Which is why I could never go back to my home ward! I know it's dramatic, but just dealing with judgmental stares, gossiping, awkward questions and all of that was just too much for me to handle. I still have yet to return to the Castle Park Ward.

     I have started going to the Boise YSA (young single adults) 1st Ward. I'm not going to say it's my favorite, but it's church. It's still awkward, though.

Fast Forward to October 13th

     Today, my sister's childhood friend is having her baby blessed in our home ward, and I'd love to go. But I'm going to be honest. I. Am. Afraid. I hate admitting that so much. Why would I ever be afraid of going to church? Isn't church/faith/religion supposed to be a safe haven? Well, usually it is. In my case, it's a stressful hellhole of judgment. And really, I don't think I can handle that. I was hoping by after a month I'd be able to just go back to normal life, but I really can't get myself to. So maybe I have a hard time praying and reading my scriptures. So maybe I struggle with my testimony. So maybe I just wish none of this had happened. But that doesn't change anything.

     I'm being incredibly shallow and self-centered about it all, and it does nothing positive for me. But what is someone supposed to do when they're afraid to go to church? That just isn't normal. I've considered going and just sitting in a side room so I can hear the service without seeing people, but that just seems crazy.

     I know God still loves me. Can't that be enough for now? I think it has to be. 

     I have had quite a few things to help me out this past month. Amazing friends, Institute, Institute Choir (Unison), work...lots of stuff. I'll expound on those things later. For now, I'm just going to get ready for church. Maybe that will help me actually decide to go. 

     I hope all of my readers have a fantastic Sunday. It's a beautiful day. Just remember to be full of positoovity. (I'll have to explain this whole "positoovity" thing eventually...) Anyway, have a good one.