there and back again

Sometimes, things don't go the way you want them to.

For example: I am the first full-time missionary in my family. So when I sent in my mission papers, I thought I'd get a nice comfy mission call in North America. Maybe South America, although even that was a little out of my comfort zone. I figured if I got really, really lucky, I'd get placed in the Midwest and only be a few hours away from my family, where I'd still be able to keep in touch with everyone and I'd never get too homesick because, well, I'd be home.

Then I got a call to Thailand. It's over a year since I got the call and it still amazes me that the Lord called me there. It was completely mind-blowing. Getting to Thailand was a long, hard process and being in Thailand was even harder. But it was the best time of my life.

And now I'm back, several months earlier than I expected, on medical release.

Once I got my call and it started to settle in, I researched Thailand, started teaching myself Thai, and tried as best I could to prepare myself for what it would be like.

Unfortunately (but really fortunately), Thailand was so far away and so remote to me that I had absolutely no idea what the freeeak I was getting myself into. I just didn't know. And so once again, I had to put aside my perfectionistic, independent tendencies and just rely on God.

It was really hard. I had no idea what would happen to my family, or me, or really what I would be doing. I had the good fortune of meeting Emily Brown and Tessa Herrmann, who were going to Thailand with the same MTC entrance date as me (Tessa ended up as my first companion!). But even knowing them only confirmed that none of us actually knew what we were doing.

Soon enough, that fateful MTC entrance date came.

Apparently, most districts are small. Like, two to four companionships, usually not more than 10 people.

My MTC district had 14 total. And I love every single one of them like they're my own flesh and blood. We spent two months together, bugging the crap out of each other, strengthening each other, growing together...and trying to learn Thai along the way.

A week or so into the MTC, my dad went into surgery and I started really suffering. I couldn't focus, and I started to question whether I was really supposed to be there. That all changed with a priesthood blessing from one of the elders in my district. That blessing is seared in my memory, especially one phrase: "God has complete confidence in your ability to serve a complete 18-month mission."

Whoa. And that whole time I'd been thinking there was no way I could do any of it.

I don't believe it was an overnight change, but I found a lot of strength in that blessing and I started to adjust to the whole "being a missionary" thing. I started to get more comfortable in my role and have fun with it.

I owe so much to the sisters in my MTC group. Tessa, my first companion, was such a good example to me of patience and love and while we didn't see eye to eye on a lot of things and we definitely had a rough patch that ended with us changing companions, I always knew how good of a missionary she was (and is). I adore her and am so grateful that despite our past issues, we got over it and are better friends than ever now! My second MTC companion, Brecklyn Nethercott...is my soul sister. It was just kinda one of those companionships where we never had to say anything, we always knew how the other was feeling and how to help.

I could talk for forever about my MTC experience and the things I learned, but I think the most important lessons can be summed up in the missionaries in my district. I learned so much from them and several times I remember the impression that I was in the presence of spiritual giants when we were gathered in the classroom.

But it was a long two months, and we were more than excited to actually get to our destination and hit the ground running!

The flight was miserable, the jet-lag was death, and before we knew it we'd sat through our first transfer meeting and we were all getting shipped off to our new areas with our new companions. It didn't take me long to realize that I was one of the only sister missionaries not being trained in Bangkok. Instead, I was getting shipped off to Kalasin, a province in the middle of the Isaan, which for the most part is just rural towns and rice fields.

And my companion and I were going to be the other two missionaries in the province.

My trainer, Kara Ladle, was an incredible missionary. She was completely baller at the language, exactly obedient, and knew how to talk to everyone. Coming out of the MTC, I was amazing at the language for a greenie, loved the thai people, and was willing to do whatever was asked of me. Killer team, right? So why didn't we see a crapload of success and growth and happiness like I'd found in the Missionary Training Center?

I'm not inclined to blame the area, even though the area was tiny and brutally difficult as far as finding investigators went. We spent a lot of time standing in front of Big C (the thai equivalent of walmart pretty much) holding pictures of baptism, asking people if they wanted to "wash their sins." Buddhist people don't really have a concept of sin, so...nobody was really interested.

But despite the fact that we were lucky if we got 40 people to church on Sundays, I don't think that was the problem. I think the problem was taking place inside of me. I'm not really sure what changed or when, but by the time I got to Kalasin all I could feel was that I'd made a horrible mistake and that I was suddenly cut off from feeling the Spirit in teaching, studying, and praying.

It felt like hell. I cried for an hour every day during personal study and cried myself to sleep every night as soon as daily planning was finished at 9:30 (normally missionaries go to bed at 10:30). I felt absolutely awful all the time and while I felt I was doing everything to draw closer to God, I was completely blocked. I felt no love for anyone, myself included, and as time went on I learned to just swallow the awful feelings and not feel. Leaving the house every day filled me with dread. I closed off because I didn't know what was wrong and so, of course, nobody knew.

When it rains, it pours.

By some complete miracle I survived the first six weeks, all the worse for wear. We picked up another companion at the next transfer meeting and became a trio, even though I was still being trained. I remember wondering how the heck that was going to work.

The new companion was Brittany Lam, and she brought a whole different perspective to my mission experience. She was spunky and funny and goofed off and had fun and was happy, which is something that, trudging along in my own misery, I'd neglected to do. I learned a lot from Lam about that. She injected energy and spirit and it was just enough to get us going for another month.

It was during this period that I first started exhibiting symptoms of the health problems that eventually sent me home. It started as heat exhaustion and lack of appetite from working myself too hard and not allowing myself to relax or enjoy myself. I had this mentality that I needed to do everything and be perfect, because missionaries are superheroes, right?

I was working hard but I wasn't working smart.

By the time our mission president called to tell us that all three of us would leaving ("white-washing" in mission terminology), I don't think any of us were surprised. The branch was falling apart and we were all emotionally dead from the stress and drama of a lot of different things that had occurred. Despite the relief of leaving, I was also terrified to leave because Kalasin was all I'd ever known, and the idea of going anywhere else (specifically Bangkok) was not appealing. My occasional heat exhaustion had turned into consistent nervous appetite loss and even stomach pain.

And so all this led me to sitting on the floor of the hallway outside the transfer meeting, feeling completely broken in spirit and body. I didn't know how I was going to make it through that day, much less the next year. I told God that I could do six more weeks, and if something didn't change I was going to go home.

It wasn't meant to be a threat, just a desperate plea for something to give.

I got through that day on a fist bump.

I knew my limits, but God knew them even better. I found out that day I'd be serving in Pakkret (the same church building where we did transfers) and I'd be serving with Jessica Ellis. I remember our first night, after we'd said goodnight, I told her everything. That I was on my last six weeks and that I was miserable and wanted to go home. I wondered if I was making a mistake opening up to her like that, but she spent the next six weeks confirming that being open was the best decision I could have made.

She nursed me back to health. Not just physically bringing me to the hospital and making sure I took all the weird medicine the doctors were throwing at me, but she talked to me and she listened. We took breaks, we went at my pace and sometimes I felt frustrated because I knew I could be doing more, but she helped me realize that I was important. My health was important. In fact, I was just as important as the people we were teaching!

I started to fall in love with Thailand again! I didn't feel dread every single morning when I woke up for fear that I wasn't doing enough or working hard enough. I understood that I was doing my best without killing myself, and I actually started to feel better physically.

There was one P-day (preparation day) when some of the Elders in our area had the idea to go to Lopburi (an area a few hours north of Pakkret) to climb a mountain. We left the house at 6am and took a van for a few hours to our destination.

The mountain we hiked...I wish I remembered the name of it because it had such a profound impact on me. 4000 steps carved in the side of the mountain led to the top, where there was a small temple. Monks had made the trek for decades, a pilgrimage that helped solidify their dedication to their work.

Apparently monks are in much better shape than I was. I remember being around 1,000 steps in and deciding I was done. I apologized to my companion (we'd already been going slower than everyone else) and sat down on a step and just looked down the mountain. It wasn't the top, but it was nice enough. I wasn't going to beat myself up over not getting there.

My companion waited a few minutes with me and then she started to push. "Just a little bit more," or "let's just get to the next rest stop." And so slowly, we continued. The steps got steeper, and as we got higher I was really not doing well. My lungs hurt and the repetitive motion of climbing steps was boring and didn't seem to be making much of a difference in climbing the mountain.

The other missionaries were crazy supportive, too. Elders slowed down to stay with us, kept us joking and laughing, brought us water and the Thai equivalent of Gatorade. I remember wondering why it was so important that I got to the top of that mountain.

But I made it. I was the last one up, and I was out of breath, embarrassed, and exhausted, but then we had a devotional on the top of the mountain that changed my focus on the mission.

Most of our zone at the top of the mountain

It was about the temple. Our zone leaders led a discussion and taught us about the temple. About why it mattered. I think I always knew, but that devotional brought out a lot of understanding that I hadn't consciously processed before. These people needed a temple. It wasn't a luxury. It was a necessity. These Saints here in Thailand needed the blessings, the peace and the ordinances in the temple like nothing else. We all knew members or families in Thailand who'd died without an opportunity to go to the temple. And that day I caught the vision. What I was supposed to be doing in Thailand. I wasn't just standing outside or walking around asking people to wash their sins or go to a Christian church, I was helping to build a temple.

It's only now that I get why it was so important for me to get to the top of that mountain.

Actually, that mountain has become a metaphor for the mission in countless ways. I talk about that day all the time because it had such an impact on me. After that, I started to really catch the vision, the fire, the why of the work we were doing.

Which became my inflection point.

I was so sad to be separated from Sister Ellis. We spent Thanksgiving and Christmas parties together, survived a heckuva lot of crazy Sundays taking care of three wards, and she taught me so much about valuing myself and being myself. I realized that God called me to serve the mission. And I figured out how to work hard and work smart.

I figured out that this is supposed to be a joyful work!

I didn't know how things could keep getting better after having a companion like Jessica Ellis. But my next companion did just that. Sister Yanisa Mansiriphaiboon (I'm so proud that I can say and spell her name without thinking about it) and I actually went on a switchoff in my first area. We were companions for a day, and ever since then, I'd always thought it'd be awesome to be companions with her, because we were so alike, loved to have fun, and she was an incredible teacher.

But I never thought it'd actually happen. Dreams do come true, folks. I'm a witness.

Yanisa is a convert of two years, but you'd never guess that from the way she understands and teaches the gospel. I can't remember how many times I just sat there in lessons, listening to her teach and explain things better than I could have explained them in english! My testimony and understanding of the doctrine of Jesus Christ grew tremendously when I was serving with her.

It's worth mentioning that my health problems continued for the first bit of our time together. I had a medical procedure and after that and trying countless drugs and consultations, I was told that the root of the medical problem was simple stress from the lifestyle I was living. In the opinions of the doctors, I needed to go home, take a break from the lifestyle, go back to "normal" life.

But I couldn't. I felt like I had to stay, and Yanisa was with me every step of the way. With her relaxed approach to everything, she helped me eliminate a lot of the things that were stressing me out and, eventually, get me out of a negative physical cycle. I started feeling better and being able to work at the level that I wanted to.

We could do anything together, even contacting long hours in the hot sun. We never got bored, and we never got frustrated with each other. Okay, I can recall maybe three times in our three months of being companions when I actually got frustrated with her, and they were all for dumb reasons that were actually my fault. When the hour of frustration had passed, I wanted nothing more than to make up and spend more time (goofing off) with her.

We served together for two transfers. I worried at first that I would tire of her or get more frustrated but we only grew closer and as my thai improved, our conversations began to increase in length and topic and complexity. She is without a doubt one of my best friends and I can't imagine my life not knowing her. If that was the only reason I was sent to Thailand, it still would have been completely worth it.

In every way, I was thriving. I started getting answers to prayer easier and faster and feeling the Spirit stronger. I was at my peak; Yanisa and I could easily cover the challenge of working in three units (a thai ward, thai branch and international ward) and our workload was insane but we managed to do it every week. Around this time I started saying the "superman prayer," which goes a little like this:

Heavenly Father,
There is no freaking way I can do everything that's being asked of me right now.
But you can do this through me.
I know I'm not superman, but please qualify me to do what you need me to do today.

And so forth. And it worked! Every time I said a prayer like that, I found my capacities expanded, my abilities increased, and everything that needed to get done, was done. Maybe that wasn't everything, but it was always enough.

But all things must come to an end, and our almost four months of perfect balance ended when I got a call saying that I would be training the next transfer.

I'd always wanted to train. It was a dream of mine ever since I arrived in Thailand, though I'm not really sure why. Over time, I understood that training was less about when I was ready and more about when "my girl" came. When I got the training call, I felt unsure and even wrong. As much as I wanted to train, I wanted to do it for the right person, the person I was supposed to train.

My fears dissipated when our names were announced together at the transfer meeting. Sister Tara-Ann Teriipaia. I quickly discovered that we were nothing alike, which surprised me since my trainer and I were very alike. Sister Teriipaia was energetic and rambunctious! I really needed her energy and persistent optimism.

I'm not sure when it happened, but that transfer I put a lot on my plate and I started paying the price for it physically, mentally and emotionally, just like I had before. I was clocking out before we even left the house every day. I loved the area and the work but I was getting worked up about nothing and everything started to feel wrong. I tried so many things. We switched up studies, tried new routes, switchoffs, and endless conversations about the problem. It wasn't going away.

That's when my mission president started talking to me about going home. I violently rejected the idea; it simply wasn't an option to me. I didn't sign up for anything less than an 18-month deal. To me, anything less was failure. I'd rather die than go home early.

And so I pushed on, believing that, along with all of my other trials and ailments on the mission, it would go away through more work and dedication. There was one day where I had a fever of at least 39.5 Celsius (around 103 Fahrenheit). I was delirious. And I spent the rest of that week in bed. I was losing weight, never ate, perpetually in pain of some kind, and every day I felt more and more dead inside. Sometimes I'd even think about just walking into the middle of the street and letting it be over because it was so hot and I just had nothing left to give.

And somehow, I refused to admit what was happening to me. I was working myself to death.

Two weeks before transfers, I got a call from my Mission President. The call ended something like this.

Prez: "Well Sister Zoller, if you're going home I'd like to send you home with the missionaries going home next week. I'll let you think about the decision tonight and you can get back to me tomorrow morning."

It was already after 10pm, and missionaries are supposed to be in bed by 10:30. I don't think I went to sleep for a few hours that night. I was so torn up. On the one hand, I thought going home would be healthy -- to be able to rest from my labors and regenerate. But then again, I'd told myself I was only going to make the round trip to Thailand and back once on my mission. And this isn't what I'd signed up for! I was convinced that my Heavenly Father was just looking down at me waiting for me to make the right choice, and that choice was to stay. After all, the mission wasn't about me, and I'd be making a mistake if I did what benefited me the most, even though my companion and mission president both counselled me to follow that course.

So I chose to stay. I was very resolute about it and felt committed as ever. I was going to make it work. Somehow. "I'm staying, President." And click, I hung up the phone.

And then I was seized by a horrible feeling. It felt like death. I felt like I'd just signed away my life. But this is what I wanted! I needed to stay. So I fought that awful feeling, for almost six hours. And that whole day I couldn't focus, I couldn't invite, and I couldn't teach.

I knew I was making the wrong decision. It was the hardest phone call I've ever made, which is saying a lot because making phone calls has always been a source of anxiety in my life. I had to work myself up to doing it for somewhere in the ballpark of 10 agonizing minutes. But I knew I couldn't keep fighting God. My mission president knew, too. I think that's why he'd gently urged me to consider going home in the first place.

When I hung up the phone, I still felt that pit in my stomach, but I knew I was doing what God wanted me to do.

A week before transfers I moved to the office with all my stuff and did miscellaneous office tasks and finalizing logistics. I loved that week. I saw so many missionaries and was the recipient of so many acts of generosity and kindness. I will never forget that week.

On my last P-day, I took a field trip with the senior couples to the Kanchanaburi Province, which includes among other things the site of the Bridge Over the River Khwae. For those of you who don't know what that was or haven't seen the movie by that title, it was a Japanese prisoner torture camp during World War II for British, Australian, American and Dutch prisoners. We went to a museum and war cemetery, among other places, and it was overall pretty eye-opening and sobering. At the cemetery, we walked among rows upon rows of graves of officers who died in the camp, ranging in age from 22 to 47. I saw a few graves with the following inscription on them:

"Greater love hath no man that he lay down his life."

Isn't that what I was doing? I was willing to give my life to this work, and in some ways, dying seemed like a better option than going home. I was miserable. I was already homesick for Thailand and I took in every sight and sound and 7/11 snack like it was my last. The Lord knew I had given everything to the mission and there was a growing spot of peace in my heart where the heartbreak of leaving had been. That scripture on the grave made me begin to understand.

I got to spend another day at the office (and out of the office) with Rina Grover and Brynne Woodbury (in the picture), one of my many heroes on the mission. I tried not to tell people I was going home, but when they inevitably found out, they only responded with genuine love and concern. I still felt so ashamed of myself. Why couldn't I just serve for 18 months? What was wrong with me?

left to right: Elder Webb (my "son"), Elder Batey (my last district leader), me, and Sister T (my "daughter")

That transfer meeting was hard. That last week is all a blur but I remember specific moments in slow motion. I remember the last time I sang a closing song to a meeting in Thai, I remember saying goodbye to Brecklyn Nethercott in the van on my way out, I remember the airport at 4am, I remember sitting on the plane just terrified of leaving a place I'd once been terrified to go to.

my last night in Bangkok

As it turns out, there's nothing wrong with me. I served a complete mission in God's eyes. I just couldn't see it. With time, and some really supportive, convincing friends, I've started to see things for how they really are. An 18-24 month mission is relative. What really matters is what happens after it.

God allowed me to come home for a lot of reasons, probably. I know one of them is that He cares about me the same way he cares about my investigators and the members that I was giving everything for in the mission field. And I think that's pretty cool.

The mission is the best thing that's ever happened to me. It's still hard to think about it sometimes, but every time I do I always get this feeling that I did was I was supposed to. My full-time mission ended. But I realized about six months into my service that if you do the mission right, it never really ends. It leads to a life of consecrated service to the Lord. It's more than putting on a name-tag every day and adhering to a bunch of rules in a little white handbook. It's about the way you wake up every morning and approach every day. It's about the way you interact with people, from your family to random people on the street.

Sometimes, things don't turn out the way you want them to. They almost always turn out better. And it can only go up from here.

Week 6 (just put me on a plane to Thailand already!)

Me and my puppy Ginger!

Well, all I've got to say about the MTC at this point is that I'm leaving three weeks from today and that is a wonderful, wonderful blessing! On Monday, we got to clean the Provo temple with our district! The sisters cleaned the chandeliers in the sealing rooms. I've never noticed before how incredibly intricate all the light fixtures -- dozens and dozens of tiny glass rods put together to reflect light. As a Church, we put so much work into our temples because they are truly the Lord's houses, and I feel immensely blessed to have access to one like I do for the next few weeks.

While we were serving in the temple, we were with some of the temple workers who were helping and directing us. We sat down cleaning crystal chandelier pieces and talked for maybe two hours. It was the first time I've had a legitimate conversation with a person outside of the MTC since I got here and I can't tell you how nice it was to sit down with a person who actually knew 80s music as well as I do (shoutout to Dad and Mom for raising me right!).

Beyond that, the only really unique thing that happened this week was our district kickball game against the Cambodian district on Saturday! We lost, but our whole district had a blast. Considering I've never played kickball before in my life, I think we did pretty dang good. I've also started playing catch with Sister Peck and sometimes other people in our district, and there's nothing quite as relaxing as playing catch outside on a beautiful morning in the shadow of a gorgeous mountain and a temple (until I accidentally hit Sister Brown with a softball. She's totally fine, don't worry. shoutout to Sister Brown for being awesome and playing with me anyways!). Oh, and we also flew kites in the rain during companion study this week. Shoutout to the Cambodian Elders for having kites and letting us borrow them! I'm at the point now where literally anything that takes away from our normal schedule is the greatest thing ever. Also, shoutout to half our zone because they're leaving today and tomorrow! We're losing our Vietnamese-speakers, our Hmong-speakers, and all the Cambodians. That's like...half of our zone. But we get 18 new thai-speakers on Wednesday! We're so pumped to have more Thai missionaries (although we're secretly really jealous that our teachers will be spending more time with them instead of us now).

This week I'd like to talk a little bit about enduring trials. On thursday, I had a strong prompting all day that I needed to be praying for my family, although I had no idea why. It all made sense when I received a DearElder that evening that said that Ginger, my family's German Shepherd, had been put down. While the event itself wasn't a shock, it was still a pretty heavy emotional blow, and I'm still reeling in some ways. She was one of my best friends, my baby, and I already feel her absence. Saying goodbye never gets any easier, but I knew when I left home that I was sacrificing that. Maybe that doesn't seems like that big of a deal, but for me, it was huge. Being a missionary is truly a humbling experience. Just when I think I have given my all, more is asked of me and more weight is placed on my shoulders. The Lord has been teaching me some very powerful lessons lately about learning to rely on Him and I don't think I've learned it quite yet.

In an amazing talk entitled "Trust in the Lord" by Richard G. Scott, he said the following: "To exercise faith is to trust that the Lord knows what He is doing with you and that He can accomplish it for your eternal good even though you cannot understand how He can possibly do it...Your Father in Heaven and His Beloved Son love you perfectly. They would not require you to experience a moment more of difficulty than is absolutely needed for your personal benefit or for that of those you love." There's another talk by Elder David A. Bednar called "Bear Up Their Burdens with Ease" that talks about how to move on from tragedy and trials: "We are not and never need be alone. We can press forward in our daily lives with heavenly help. Through the Savior's Atonement we can receive capacity and strength beyond our own."

This work is hard, but it is the only work that truly matters in the end. Said the Prophet Joseph Smith, "Let us here observe, that a religion that does not require the sacrifice of all things never has power sufficient to produce the faith necessary unto life and salvation." This is the only Church on the Earth that has the restored fullness of Christ's gospel. I know that. I've always known, but probably never as strongly as I do now. I love you all!

--
Sister Zoller

living on a prayer

Getting through this week was hard, but I can now humbly say that I'm more than halfway through my nine weeks in the MTC! This week was all about prayer and keeping a constant conversation going with God all day, every day. Someone once made the observation here that we're a lot like the apostle Peter walking on the water to the Savior; and "when he Peter saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me." (Matthew 14:30) It was because Peter was distracted that he began to sink, because he looked around at the world around him and realized what a scary situation he was in. And in that instant after he began to sink, he cried out to the Lord. "And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him..." (Matthew 14:31). That's pretty much how this week has felt. When I keep up an ongoing conversation with the Lord throughout my day (in addition to praying on my knees and with my companion/investigators), I feel like I'm metaphorically hanging on to the Savior's arm in a world that I would never be able to face on my own. Even with all that, I often trip and get distracted, but gratefully, the Lord is ever-patient and merciful and willing to help me back up to try again and again and again.

On Wednesday we had the opportunity to serve as hosts in the MTC, which meant we helped all the new missionaries as they arrived with getting books and getting them settled into their rooms and classrooms. The first person I hosted was an international sister from Bombay. She spoke decent English but overall seemed very nervous being alone in a foreign country with just a medium-sized suitcase. I was humbled to talk with her and serve her because she sacrificed so much to come here, thousands of miles, to serve the Lord and do his will.

In addition to this wonderful sister, I hosted three elders and another sister. It was so touching to see the enthusiasm and anticipation in the eyes of the missionaries. One of the Elders I helped was going to Argentina, and as we were walking down the sidewalk with all his luggage, he quietly admitted his feelings of inadequacy. I almost dropped all his luggage to hug him right where he was. I opened my mouth and heard the words, "Elder, the Lord needs you here. He has called you. He loves you. I promise you you're doing the right thing." And that was all we said on that topic for the rest of the time until I put him on a bus to west campus. The coolest part of that experience, though, was that I didn't say any of those words. Those words were spoken by the spirit through me. I've had experiences like this many times in the MTC but it never ceases to amaze me to feel the power of God. I am humbled and grateful to be in a position to be the servant of the Lord.

Being a missionary has made me so aware of God's love for everyone in the missionary equation: the investigator, the member, the missionary, and the companion. Our purpose is to invite others to come unto Christ; that means EVERYONE! Once this week, in a moment of exasperation, I asked God, "what would you have me do?" and immediately I thought of a scene from Lord of the Rings where Eowyn asks her Uncle King Theoden the same question as he leaves her with the tremendous responsibility of ruling a kingdom. He puts his arms around her and says in response, "I would have you smile again." In spite of the darkness of the world, in spite of everything she had to do, her uncle (and father figure) just wanted her to be happy. Doesn't our Heavenly Father, who loves us infinitely, want the same thing for us? I know He wants that for all of us.

Friday was the 4th of July, obviously...I've never been the most into celebrating holidays but my companion more than made up for it with the most patriotic outfit and accessories. But that night was possibly the best night of my life thus far. We started the night off with a musical show that got us all hyped up because we have some insane talent here in the MTC. Then there was a devotional that brought the Spirit like crazy, and then we watched 17 Miracles, which I've heard loads about but never seen before. It's about the journey of the companies of Latter-Day Saints who crossed the plains in handcarts and the miracles that made it possible for them to arrive in the Salt Lake Valley. It was inspiring to see and remember the tremendous sacrifices that were made by those who went before us, but my favorite part was when the main character said, "I can't remember how many times I turned around to see who was pushing my handcart, but saw no one" and as the camera pans behind him it shows angels and people helping him by pushing his cart as he pulled it -- it is the same with us. God does not leave us alone, he sends help, though often we can't see it or even realize it until later.

Then we went and watched the fireworks for the Stadium of Fire! I've never seen a fireworks show that big, so I'm sure there were stars in my eyes the whole night, but as it came close to the finale I remembered that the last time I watched fireworks was in 2012, a few nights before my family and I left Wisconsin. At that time in my life, I had recently graduated high school. I was scared and felt purposeless; I did not know who I was or what I was going to do with my life. The future appeared dark and uncertain, and I did not know what to expect or what to do. Whether aloud or in my heart, in the form of a prayer or just a desperate wish, I begged that the next time I watched fireworks, I would be a different person, I would feel my life had purpose, and I would be happy. That night, at that time in my life, non of that seemed possible, but three nights ago I stood outside watching fireworks from the MTC on my way to Thailand, and I am a better person than I ever thought was possible then. God heard me. The Lord has been in the details of my life since its beginning, and I am and will be forever grateful for all He has done and continues to do for me. As I stood there watching the beautiful fireworks, I was hit with a wave of gratitude that overwhelmed me. I love the Lord and this gospel. The Lord has led me this far and he will not abandon me, now, or ever. And if He has done all that for me, don't you think He's done all that for you, too?

Walking on sunshine....whaaaooo!

My awesome-sauce nametag

our district picture!

myself and my lovely khuu (companion)

Sawatdiikha! Today is my first P-day so here's my first big email! I've only been here for six days but soooo much has happened!

The first day I got here, we sang "We'll Bring the World His Truth" but they changed the words in the chorus from "We will be the Lord's missionaries" to "We are now the Lord's missionaries" and it was so powerful! I felt the spirit so strongly as I looked around the room and I finally felt the confirmation I've been wanting for so long that THIS is where I need to be and what I need to be doing, and every day since then I've received that confirmation again in countless ways.

In six days, we have taught two lessons to our new investigator completely in Thai and taught him how to pray and prayed with him, and we've given him a Book of Mormon! We study Thai for 6-8 hours in class every day and then we also have extra study time on our own. It's really structured and rule-oriented, but also we have a lot of freedom to structure our study in a way that will help us most. In our district (our class, of all the Thai missionaries that entered the same day) there are six elders and eight sisters, and we are soooo tight. We do everything together and we're always studying together and trying to help each other out. We're such overachievers on the language, we spend all our spare time trying to pick up new words and grammar rules from the other Thai district who has been here longer. The older Thai district keeps telling us to calm down and stop making them look bad because apparently we're much farther along than they were when they were five days in. We love it.

Our zone, which is a bunch of districts together, has around 60 missionaries speaking Thai, Vietnamese, Cantonese, and Cambodian, going all over the world where those languages are spoken. We always eat together and have (friendly) competitions during gym time.

My khuu (companion in Thai) is Sister Herrmann! I was so thrilled when I saw her. We met through the Sister Missionary Facebook group during winter semester this year, along with Sister Brown, who is in our dorm with us and her companion, Sister Nethercott. The four of us get on so great.

The best spiritual experience from this week was with our investigator, Txg. He's actually role-playing our investigator, he's really our other Thai teacher, but when we roleplay the feelings and experiences that we have are just as real as if we were teaching in the field. Phii Txg is Buddhist, a single dad with an 8-year-old daughter who has been crippled from birth, and he's had a really hard time taking care of her but he heard about Jesus Christ and the Plan of Happiness in our church and wants to know so badly how to get the light that he sees when we come to visit and share scriptures with him. We have some language barrier issues, naturally, but when my companion and I pray to have the spirit with us we go in and we can truly understand and communicate with him. We talk about faith a lot in the context of KNOWING things, but we often forget that faith starts with a simple desire to know the truth. When we taught Phii Txg to pray and he prayed for the first time, it was so simple and yet overwhelmingly powerful because he wants to know the truth so badly.

In my time here, I've come to realize more and more that everything I have and am is because of what God has blessed me with. I'm so blessed to have the language coming to me more easily because of all my experience with Spanish, but I never would have learned Spanish if I hadn't been led to take Spanish 101 last spring term at BYU (shoutout to Sarah and Maggie! I think of you girls all the time and how much you're going to LOVE the MTC/CCM!). Everything I thought I was sacrificing and giving up and having to suffer through has truly all been for my good.

Shoutout to Michael Perry and Brianna Fabiano for being my family and dropping me off at the MTC! Thaaaaaank you thank you. It meant a lot to me and helped me be less nervous than I would have been if I'd gone in by myself.

Extra shoutout to all the people I know who work here! I know seriously half the people working in the cafeteria and people on custodian crew and a few teachers too! It makes my whole day to see random wardies and cafeteria people.

And to anyone reading this, feel free to DearElder me! Please do! It's free for you besides the time that you put in and it makes my whole day. My address is on facebook and it's so easy!

Lots and lots of love,

Sidtaa Zoller

Na na na na...hey hey hey...goodbye!

(The following are the highlights from my farewell talk, given May 25, 2014, in a random ward in St. Louis because that's where my family moved last year! The theme was the conference talk "The Gospel to All the World" by Elder John B. Dickson.)

There's a scripture my roommate and I loved repeating last year: "And God said unto John, come forth and receive eternal life. But John came fifth, and won a toaster."

Okay, I'm kidding, that's obviously not a real scripture. I just really wanted an excuse to squeeze that joke in. I don't really know anyone in this ward, and none of you really know me, so this makes this farewell talk kinda unique. So here's a little bit about me, to put the rest of my talk in context. I was born and raised in Wisconsin, and I've been going to BYU for the past two years, studying something yet to be determined. I got my mission call four months ago to serve the people in Thailand, Myanmar and Laos for the next 18 months. I've learned that in my life, the Lord sometimes manifests His will through my desires, and that's how I knew I wanted to go on a mission shortly after the announcement of the mission age change back in 2012. Based on all the things that needed to happen before I left, it should have been impossible for me to go, but when the Lord wants something done, he provides a way. So here I am!

There's an awesome talk from the April 2013 General Conference called "The Gospel to All the World" by Elder John B. Dickson. He says "From the time of the organization of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in 1830, the Church has moved steadily across the world from nation to nation, culture to culture, people to people, on the Lord's calendar and in His time."

I've never been more grateful for this than I was when I opened my mission call to Thailand. Thailand is considered a developing third-world country. I would argue that we don't really know what poverty is in this country. But there are families in Thailand who live in three-sided shacks and depend on their 8-year-old daughters to bring in money from boxing matches. There are families in Thailand who have to send their children away to be able to support the rest of the family. That isn't something I can fathom. Thai, the official language of Thailand, is a tonal language, which basically means that the same word or syllable can mean up to five different things depending on the tone with which you say it (and I'll be honest, those tones all sound the same to me right now). 95% of people in Thailand are Buddhist, a religion that does not recognize a Creator God. So, to say that Thailand is different from America is like saying that fire is different from water. How can I go to teach a people who deal with a set of challenges I will never face, whose culture is so different from mine, and, more importantly, whose language is so utterly foreign to me?

The answer is that the Gospel of the Church of Jesus Christ is just as universal as it is personal! The best example of this is the Atonement of Jesus Christ. He suffered for each of us, personally, but his sacrifice applies to every sentient being who ever lived and who ever will live. But just because it's for everyone doesn't take away its significance for me as a person. Universal, but still personal. And that's my favorite thing about the gospel. Hands down. The gospel is so, so simple; it's here to bring us happiness! Our beliefs can be summed up in the Articles of Faith, just thirteen sentences. So why do we worry ourselves over anything else? The culture of the members of the Church may vary, but we all live and share the blessings of the same gospel, and that is just so cool.

The purpose of all missionaries is to "bring others unto Christ." What does that mean? Well, there are a hundred ways to interpret that statement, but remember, the gospel is simple. And simply put, Christ is charity, the purest form of love there is, and if Christ is love and my job is to bring others unto Christ, then my job is to love them. Obviously, that can be done in an unlimited number of ways, but when I remember that, it allows me to focus on what really matters and forget about all the silly little things that don't matter.

One of the coolest things I've learned is that we are all called to serve exactly where we are. You are not random. You are here for a reason, in this specific area. Maybe you can touch a lot of lives, maybe just one. But isn't it worth the one? Christ sure thought so, that's why he came down and sacrificed himself for us.
This gospel is true. I've learned that for myself. It's brought me so much hope and happiness, and I'm so excited and grateful to be able to go share the happiness that it has brought me with people half a world away!

Lemme tell you the story about the call that changed my destiny...

Dear Sister Zoller,
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 Thailand, Bangkok Mission. You should report to the Provo Missionary Training Center June 25, 2014. You will prepare to preach the gospel in the Thai language.

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatup. (ten points if you got the Backstreet Boys song reference in the title)

I can still remember the feeling of my heart doing some kinda crazy dubstep thing in my chest when I read that for the first time. It took a solid 48 hours for me to realize I'd actually gotten a real mission call and I wasn't just hallucinating it, and another two months to start taking it seriously and actually start preparing. When I got the call, I couldn't have told you where Thailand was on a map. And I didn't even know Thai was a language. To be utterly honest, I was hoping I'd get called to Kansas. Seriously. I never wanted to speak anything other than Spanish or English, never wanted to travel, definitely didn't want to leave the continent. I have no ties to Thailand, no super cool ancestors from there, nada. But the Lord called me to the people there, and that was something I knew the moment I read that letter and something I've never doubted since.

I could spend the rest of this post talking about what made me want to go on a mission, and the incredible things that have happened in my life to lead me to this point, all the "coincidences" that were never coincidences but pure divine inspiration, but I won't. Because the only thing that matters right now is that I'm going. If I'm anything, I am living proof that people can and do change, and that anything is possible -- seriously, anything -- through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. It's how we change and grow into the people God wants us to be. In my short life, I've had the opportunity to become intimately acquainted with the Atonement through a series of mishaps and mistakes that I can say now have all turned out to be humongous blessings in disguise. I'm so grateful for Jesus Christ and His ultimate sacrifice that allows me to change into a better person and have hope. I don't know where I'd be without my testimony of the Atonement!

One of the greatest lessons I've learned in the last few months is that we've all been called to serve the people around us, in the places that we've been led. I don't need a formal envelope with a fancy mission packet to know that I'm supposed to be serving specific people in my apartment or building or ward! There are no coincidences. If you're living your life right (and, I've found, even if you're not), you'll be led to touch the lives of others in ways you can't possibly imagine, and through that you'll find more happiness than you can imagine. I've tried a lot of things in life, and the one thing that has brought me the most real joy is the gospel.

And that's the most important thing right there, kids. The gospel's meant to bring us joy. This is a business of happiness and anyone working in or around it can feel the impact. It's crazy, it's powerful, and it's so, so real.

On June 4th, in three short weeks, I'm off to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in the Thailand, Bangkok mission. I'm a little terrified, not of the language or the food or even the mosquitoes but of the fact that this will probably be the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. There's not a day that goes by that I don't question whether I'm cut out to go on a mission, but I won't know unless I try and give it everything I've got!

And for nostalgia's sake, here's the video of my mission call opening: