Short story: Mission Hugs

Here's an experience from my MTC days that unfortunately I don't think is going to fit in my current book-in-progress, "The Falling Part."  But I'm thinking it's going to be in a future book, exclusively about my mission.  I hope you enjoy it.  :)

P.S. There is quite a bit of intro to this story, including receiving my mission call, written in multiple chapters of "The Falling Part" (see my facebook page, "Jenna Lovell: Happily Ever Writing") that would be a good lead-in for you to read this segment, but hopefully it can stand alone here for now.  Just one quick note: my brother and I entered the MTC on the same day together, and we served simultaneously in Spain...he in Bilbao, I in Madrid.

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MISSION HUGS

Clark and I took advantage of our siblingness while training together in the MTC.  Every now and then we got a kick out of exchanging hugs for everyone to see, intending to fake them out or make them jealous...for all they knew, we were just two irresponsible missionaries breaking the rules (affectionately touching members of the opposite sex (non-family) is forbidden while on the mission).  Good times!

We were both heading to Spain, but we did not have any classes together due to our different levels of experience with the language.  Fortunately we still got to see each other daily at mealtimes, devotionals, choir practices, or on the soccer field.  Our growing bond during this transitional time proved invaluable for both of us.

One tender experience I had with Clark happened on a day when we received some bad news from home.  Duplicate copies of a letter from Mom told us that through no fault of his own, Dad had lost his job.  This couldn't have come at a worse time--many families with regular income struggled to fund one missionary's monthly expenses, let alone two.

As Clark and I contemplated the upcoming financial hardship, the worst case scenario crossed both of our minds: our missions may have to end when they had scarcely begun.  But the Lord would provide somehow, right?  Our need for emotional support skyrocketed as we pored over the letter's scant details.  Mom closed the letter with "Try not to worry."

Not having seen Clark yet since I received the news, I struggled to concentrate in my next class.  I arose from my desk and spoke to my teacher in subdued, private tones, divulging my family's misfortune.  I asked permission to separate from my companion temporarily (which is generally a faux-pas), and slip down the hall for a few minutes to check in with my brother. Permission was granted.

He joined me in the hall.  For the first whole minute we simply let our tears do the talking as we embraced--this time with no spectators in mind.  We moved to an empty nearby classroom so that we could take our time in our search for consolation.  After we verbalized the "what ifs" that weighed on our minds, he offered an inspired suggestion. 

"We should look in the scriptures to find some comforting words," he said.  "You find one verse, and I'll find one, and we'll share them with each other."

The Book of Mormon verse he chose to read to me that day gave me strength for the remainder of my mission.

"And Christ hath said:  If ye will have faith in me ye shall have power to do whatsoever thing is expedient in me." -Moroni 7:33

If there was one thing we knew, it was that our missions were indeed "expedient in Christ."  Through the passages that we read, the Spirit calmed our fears.  He taught us in those impressionable moments that because of our parents' faithfulness, as we continued to serve, the Lord would take care of our family.

He did.

Dad was able to find work again by the end of the year, and the financial strain soon seemed to be but a small moment.  Mom also confessed to me after my mission that they had been able to meet all of our mission expenses without help from our savings...that the "missionary funds" to which Clark and I had contributed since we were small children, remained untouched.  We were able to use that money later for college. 

Our missions were not easy.  The power that Christ promised us was needed daily.  He made us strong enough to us to press forward through every trial, and Clark and I completed our service faithfully.

I'm grateful for my brother's intuition leading us to the scriptures that day.