The thing is, I wanted to be a missionary my whole life, as far back as I can remember. It was always important to me. You’ve seen the missionaries everywhere, on their bikes, walking, in their suits and ties, and yes, they were mostly young men, but girls could go, too! It just wasn’t as common, and honestly, not as encouraged if you were a girl. It seemed like a lot of sister missionaries went as a “well, I’m not married yet” default instead of “I really want to serve the Lord” choice. But around the time I was old enough to go (you had to be 21) the attitude and demographics of sister missionaries seemed to start changing, and almost all of the sisters I served with, especially the American ones, were all girls who went as soon as they were 21 and had really wanted to go for a long time. I don’t know why I explained all that, except to give the background that I had spent 21 years preparing for this 18-month experience of 24/7 serving the Lord and the people in Korea. I loved it and I loved them. I finally was able to eat kimchi. And chicken feet. And octopus that was still wiggling. I was seeing people’s lives change when I taught them about Christ. Or that God knew their name. MY is life changed because I came to know those truths even more deeply. It is amazing and hard and I had stress fractures in my feet and no heat and no hot water and half the time I had a Korean headache-that’s a headache from trying to understand what people are saying to you all day long- and when I started training a greenie at 5 months in country, we had to ask for directions BACK TO OUR OWN HOUSE AT NIGHT (!) and those people captured my heart and broke it so many times and I had no idea I could love people even a fraction of the amount God loves them and it was still so mind blowing and it was the best and hardest thing I had ever done and I wouldn’t trade it for anything and I couldn’t believe it was over. Just like that. Eighteen months. Gone. I was JUST starting to get the hang of it! I FINALLY was thinking and dreaming in Korean. My companion was a brand new Korean missionary, a greenie, and we lived with several other Koreans and an American sister, so I pretty much never spoke English except for a couple minutes at night. One day, we were talking to someone on the street and she said, “Wait, are you Korean or American?” BEST DAY EVER! I mean language and culture wise. Because if you know me, I don’t really look Asian, and Korean is SUPER hard, but I think I had picked up enough Korean mannerisms (bowing every two seconds) and my hair was cut like a Korean, and let’s face it, I ate kimchi all day, so I nailed the smelling like a Korean thing….Of course, it was like two weeks before I had to leave.

When we get to the mission home we all have one last interview with our mission president. President Seo was awesome. His English was fantastic, he loved peanut butter, he was super kind, and for some reason he really wanted every mission house to have a waffle iron, so he would have the incoming missionaries bring a few of them every time a new group arrived in Korea. 😂. We always spoke Korean to each other in person, but every week, every missionary has to write a letter to the mission president. When he took over from the last president, I had only been in Korea for about 2 months and I was writing my letters in English to President Petersen. So at my second to last interview with President Seo, he said “I need to ask you something, Sister Andrews.” I said, “Sure! Anything!”He said,”Are you going to keep writing me your president’s letters in English, right up until you go home to America?” I said”…..What the freak? Am I still doing that?!” Okay, I didn’t say freak. There’s no translation for that, but, yes, I was still merrily writing my letters in English but then speaking to him only in Korean, in person. So, my last month he got Korean letters from me. 🙄

Back to the interview. This is really important for me. I want to know how I did. As a missionary. And as a disciple of Christ. Did I do it right? Was I a good missionary? Was I worthy of that name tag I wore? I literally wore the name of Jesus Christ right over my heart for 18 months. Did I deserve to do that? Or was I just a fraud and someone who should have listened to all the naysayers and stayed home and married some nice boy and …I don’t know, stayed out of the way of real missionaries? I am praying so hard that I will get some confirmation that my offering was acceptable to the Lord. That maybe President Seo will tell me! But he was Asian, after all. He gives me some nice counsel about staying faithful and tells me to go home and start dating again. Like I could even talk to a boy. (Maybe if we talked about our favorite scriptures…I was super awkward for a few months after getting home.) And that is it. I am a little disappointed, but I think maybe I am expecting too much. I don’t need an angel with a flaming sword, do I? I know I have done the best I can. Does God really need to give me an “attagirl?” I need to get over myself.

We finish up interviews and head to Seoul. I cry all the way. My heart is breaking. I want to stay and keep doing what I love with the people I love. (My mom just showed me a letter my dad wrote near the end of his mission where he said the same thing. How hard it was going to be for him to leave the people that he loved in Hawaii and the work that he loved doing there.)

When we get to Seoul, we are able to go to the Seoul Temple, do a little shopping and then spend the night before our flight in the morning. At this point, I have come to terms with the ending of my mission—it is going to be ok and I will survive and life will be great! I just have no idea, really, what is coming next, besides school. But I am a goal setter, and an overachiever and I will hit the ground running. It will be fine.

We go to the airport and get checked in…wait, I can’t check in. For some reason my flight hasn’t been confirmed, along with one of the elders. So I AM NOT going home today. I’ll be honest, I’m not that sad about it. I am sure my family is going to be disappointed when the missionary department contacts them and tells them I will be a day late. Unbeknownst to them, I am negotiating to stay another transfer. At this point, we are in the boundaries of a different mission, so that mission president has to take charge of me and Elder K. I tell him I would be happy to stay in his mission and keep working for a while. He laughs and tells me that is admirable, but probably not fair to my family and also there are too many logistical issues. What happens next is a very tender mercy for me. It is the next day, and we are back on our way to the airport. President S’s daughter has been with us and I have been chatting with her a little bit. She is about 10. While we are waiting to get checked in, President S looks at me and says,”My daughter is really smart and a great judge of character.” I say ,” She seems very bright and I really like her!” (In my head…not sure where this is going?) He says,”She just told me that she could tell Sister Andrews is a really good missionary.”

Wow. There it is. I get flooded with that sweet, warm assurance, that yes, I WAS a good missionary and the Lord DID accept my offering and He is using a 10-year old girl who doesn’t even know me to let me know.

Fast forward to 2019. In Layton, Utah. My granddaughter, Penny, is toddling towards me with her handmade valentine. It has a sticker and some “drawing” on it. Also, a Dove chocolate taped onto it. She is so excited to give it to me! And she puts it in my hand. And then looks at me with a big smile. And then takes the chocolate off the card. And I unwrap it for her. And she eats it. Through this whole thing she is so excited and pleased with her offering. And I am so filled with joy and delight and wonder and love and I would give her a thousand chocolates off a thousand valentines because she is MORE than enough. Her offering isn’t just ACCEPTABLE to me and it doesn’t just please me, it DELIGHTS me. And I am finally starting to understand, 28 years later, how God feels about me. I love my children with my whole heart. But my grandchildren take it to another level. Maybe it’s because I see my children becoming parents and creating their own families and finding joy. Or maybe my heart is just softer now and I am more teachable. If only that 22-and-a-half-year-old returning missionary could see this moment in her future, and have this perspective, and feel this kind of love and acceptance for HER offering…but maybe it only comes with time and trials and faith and endurance.

I keep Penny’s valentine on my refrigerator. I still have lots of days where I feel “less than”. Inadequate, insufficient, overwhelmed, weak, flawed, frustrated. I’m pretty sure God has a special celestial fork with my name on it that He uses to stab his immortal eyeballs when He is particularly frustrated with me and my nonsense. “It’s been 52 years! When is she going to figure this stuff out?” (Maybe it’s a chopstick) Then I see that valentine, minus the chocolate, and think, “Wait—I have probably done something to delight Him.” At the very least, I know that my daily offerings are acceptable to Him, because they are me. And I am finally realizing that I am more than enough.