On "Whose world is realer?"

The other day, my amazing friend, Cassandra, posted a link to a blog on her Facebook page from an LDS blogger who had a pretty fired-up response to a letter he had read from a columnist in the NY Times. The blog entry, entitled "Whose world is 'realer'?" was a very well written piece, refuting the NY Times columnist's claim that "In many cases, Mormons see the world, but they don't get it". Reading this blogger's experiences as a missionary in East Germany and as a church member living in Columbus, I paused to examine my own life experiences as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

Far too often when I talk about my mission in Peru, I downplay it and throw in some disclaimer about the mission not being "real life". And in many ways, a mission is not like living a normal day-to-day life (I don't have to wear a skirt every day, I can email whenever I want to, watch TV, have a husband and family, etc.). But that doesn't mean that my mission wasn't real. I served a mission. I lived in Peru for 18 months - most of it in Lima, but also about 4 months in the Peruvian jungle in Iquitos. It does sometimes seem like a dream because life in Peru was so different than anything I have lived before or since. But I was there. The people I met are real. The experiences I had are real. And reading this blogger's missionary experiences stirred something up inside of me. I posted a link to his blog post on my facebook, along with something I wrote myself:

(please excuse the gigantic paragraph...)

"As a missionary in Peru, I cried with a grandmother after her 15 yr. old granddaughter had been kidnapped by her mother, taken to another location, was raped and impregnated by a grown man, then returned to her grandmother's custody. I mourned with a family whose young son had died from what should have been a low-risk, routine vaccination. I listened to a woman quietly tell me her plans to escape her abusive husband. I heard stories of people whose family members were carried into the Peruvian jungle by the Shining Path, and were never heard from again. I counseled a teenage boy who hit rock bottom with drugs and alcohol and was looking for a better path in life. I watched a young, single mother (the victim of a date rape) overcome her fears and learn to trust others again. I helped a destitute mother with sick children clean her home - and ended up contracting her children's illness ("rasca rasca" - apparently something that is only associated with "poor, dirty" children) myself. I sat in homes with no electricity, no running water, no roofs and watched rats run across the floor. I saw grown men weep because they could find no steady employment to feed their children. I helped an illiterate woman learn to read. I befriended a young man with a severe physical disability who had been all but forgotten by everyone around him. I cried with an alcoholic who had finally come clean, only to relapse again. And for this, complete strangers on the street would yell obscenities or cat calls at me. Because I was white. Because I was American. Because I was a woman. Or because I believe in God. I've been told that I've lived a sheltered life because I am Mormon. Nothing could be further from the truth."

I had a lot of people comment on it, saying things like "Yeah!", "Go, Kendall!" - stuff like that. Getting praise for going through those experiences was certainly not my intent of posting them. Rather, like the blogger who inspired me to examine my life and the unique experiences I have had because I am Mormon, I wanted to help others do the same. I daresay every return missionary has had similar experiences as I had on my mission. But it's not just limited to return missionaries, or even members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Any person who is a true disciple of Jesus Christ, anyone who seeks out the down-trodden and broken-hearted and wishes to "lift up the hands that hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees"- anyone who has done these things is someone who has seen the world enough to "get" it. At least, the world that our Savior knew. Probably not the same "world" that the NY Times columnist was referring to. And this is why I shun the idea that I have lived a "sheltered life". I owe my exposure to the "messier" side of humanity to the fact that I am a member of Christ's church and that my desire to serve Him requires that I serve my fellow beings - many of which are suffering from the pains and injustices of living in a fallen world. I sing a song to Thomas, to help him understand (and to remind myself) who we should be serving:

If you don’t walk as most people do,
Some people walk away from you,
But I won’t! I won’t!
If you don’t talk as most people do,
Some people talk and laugh at you,
But I won’t! I won’t!
I’ll walk with you. I’ll talk with you.
That’s how I’ll show my love for you.
Jesus walked away from none.
He gave his love to ev’ryone.
So I will! I will!
Jesus blessed all he could see,
Then turned and said, “Come, follow me.”
And I will! I will!
I will! I will!
I’ll walk with you. I’ll talk with you.
That’s how I’ll show my love for you.

Life would be a lot more comfortable if I stayed inside that bubble that so many people think I live in - the bubble where no drinking, swearing, or rated R movies are allowed. But Christ beckons us to follow him, and I have accepted the invitation to do so. It doesn't mean that I will be trekking around the slums of Lima, seeking out lost souls like I did as a missionary. Rather, I try each day to be aware of those around me who are in need of my help, whatever their circumstance may be. That might take me to the "slummier" side of my town, and if so - so be it. Like the song says, "Jesus walked away from none, he gave his love to everyone, so I will! I will!"