Just once, I would like a nice, smooth, easy week to report to you. This week was not that week. It was, however, full of blessings. I woke up Tuesday morning on the verge of a panic attack. Usually I can work through my anxiety, but by the time I was ready to go I had used up all my bravery and then some. Nothing we did seemed to help. I couldn't sleep or read until my anxiety passed. Even sitting with Mom didn't calm me down. This was not one of the high points of my life. We finally called our neighbors, the ward Grandma and Grandpa (okay, that's not a real calling, but that's how they are), and asked for a blessing. I received a beautiful priesthood blessing and immediately my anxiety was calmed.
Now, the panic attack clearly doesn't sound like a blessing, but it was. I've been struggling with my health for over three months now, and I was getting really discouraged. We couldn't figure out why I wasn't getting better. It wasn't until after my panic attack that I realized what was making me so sick--myself. I've gotten so good at coping with anxiety and serving despite it that I didn't realize what a big problem it had become. Even though I was mentally functioning well, that stress was poisoning my immune system and making me exhausted. While I wish I had realized this sooner, I probably wouldn't have been desperate enough to listen and slow down. The Lord understands me well that way. Sometimes we have to hit rock bottom to push ourselves up again. I'm still tired, but I'm going to get better. I'm going to reduce the days I go to Salt Lake, invite less stress, and hopefully work with a counselor to manage my anxiety in a way that is less damaging. Things are looking up.
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I only made it to Salt Lake once this last week, but I made the most of it. I happen to serve in one of the more stressful departments around General Conference for two reasons. The first is that it is our job to broadcast, translate, and publish Conference, busy to the point that we reject work from other departments for the weeks surrounding it. The other is that they hold meetings for the General Authorities and take new pictures right next to our main office, where I work. The security can get pretty tight for this, and it makes it hard to get things done. To get into my office Thursday morning, I had to go in a different set of doors, ride the elevator up one floor, walk across the building, and take the back stairs down again, just to get in. Thankfully, my supervisor Actually-knows-everything devised a pass for us to get through after that, but I found myself holding up my hands in the air like a criminal every time a security guard stopped me. I got rather tired of explaining that I couldn't go another way because I actually worked on that floor.
The passes did work well though, except my supervisor forgot to tell me one important thing--the bathrooms were off limits. Because of the volume of men in the meetings, both the men's and women's bathrooms were reserved for General Authorities. But of course, I didn't know that, so I went back there anyway. Which is a problem, because the bathroom is a really mortifying place to run into the Prophet.
Thankfully, everyone was in a meeting, and I didn't discover until later what might have happened. Let's just say I've never been so glad not to run into the prophet. As hilarious as that story might be (and I'm sure he would have been nice about it), I'm glad it remained a "might have been."
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The flowers on Temple Square have been lovely, and I've been wanting to share them with you. I only took a couple because I keep forgetting, but they're lovely all the same.
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For those of you who were alarmed by my title, fear not. Your faithful missionary has not fallen into unrighteous ways. Our county library hosts a "Peeps Show" featuring marshmallow peeps depicting book scenes. Bethany was planning to enter and I thought it sounded kind of fun. Nobody is going to expect great works of art from marshmallows, right? So it's just fun. (Okay, we there are people who could get seriously competitive about something like this, but they're crazy anyway).
Of course, what book could be more appropriate for a missionary than the Book of Mormon? I made a diorama of Lehi's dream. I have to say, I'm pretty proud of my marshmallow-construction paper-fabric scrap creation.
I present to you: Lehi's Dream
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Last of all, I just have to say that General Conference was amazing. We decided that it gets better every year. I don't think there was a talk we weren't impressed by. I learned a lot, and I can't wait to be able to read them and think about them at my own pace. I know the speakers were inspired by God, and that we will be blessed by listening to their words. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the true church. I know we will be blessed as we follow the prophet. I am so grateful for my Redeemer, Jesus Christ, and for our Heavenly Father, who loves us so much He was willing to allow His Son to leave Him and suffer every mortal pain and infirmity, so that we could return to live with them again. I know that if you pray earnestly to Him, your Father in Heaven will answer. This is my testimony, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.
All my love,
Sister Ward
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