Humbled

In my English class we’ve been working on creative non-fiction essays. We were supposed to explore some event from our life. Today we did a peer edit, and I read my “study buddy” Ryan’s essay.

I was not expecting to be shamed by the content.

He wrote about his experience as a missionary that came home early. He spoke eloquently of the reactions of his parents, his siblings, people he met at BYU, and most importantly his own reaction. He talked about how hard it was to face everyone, even though he felt that he was doing the right thing in coming home early. It was personal and poignant.

And I was shamed.

I have often pitied those people who come home from missions early. I feel sorry for them, but I don’t know if I have ever felt true compassion. I’ve never stood in their shoes--nor even tried to understand how it felt to be in their situation. Reading that essay was an awakening for me. I was suddenly confronted with how that felt, and I realized how much it could hurt someone. And I was not proud to remember that I have often been in that camp of girls that zealously proclaims that they won’t marry anyone but a returned missionary. I never realized how insensitive that could sound to those people who simply couldn’t go on missions, or, for whatever reason, going on a mission was not the right thing to do. And now that I think about it, how often do young men come home from missions without really serving? How often do people come home without having grown up or had that mighty and necessary change of heart? Missions are great things, but they aren’t the only way for a boy to grow into the man he can become. I think I need to revise my declaration. I want to marry a man who has learned how to serve the Lord with all his heart, might, mind, and strength, whether or not he learned it while serving a full-time proselyting mission for the Church.

I was humbled today. I hope I never forget what it felt like to have that glimpse into someone else’s life.