Guest Blog: Leaving the Philippines by Crafty

I have been meaning to write this for a long time. But for some reason I couldn’t. It was too painful for me, I guess. Somehow it felt like once I put what it felt like to leave into words, it would be all over. Leaving the Philippines was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my entire life. Leaving my home to go to the MTC was nothing in comparison to the heartache I felt when I left the Philippines. It didn’t just feel like I was leaving my home, it felt like I was leaving myself behind. And in many ways I was. So how did this all happen? Well, I entered my area, Mercedes, in December of 2019. I loved my first area. Training was a little rough, but I loved being a missionary. I loved testifying everyday and sharing my love of Jesus Christ with others. I had just finished my 12 weeks of training when the Lord called us all back to our homes. There were a lot of events that lead up to this event, but it was Tuesday, March 16th, that changed everything. 

 It was supposed to be transfer day, but they had called the day before and canceled transfers and told us we were no longer allowed to proselyte. On Tuesday morning we got a text saying we needed a two-week supply of food, and that if we didn’t have enough food, we needed to go out immediately and buy some. Sister V and I went out to the market in Mercedes and we hurried to buy fruits and vegetables. As we were leaving, we were stopped by a police officer. He asked Sister V a lot of questions about me (I guess they didn’t think I could speak Tagalog). They said that they had to track all of the foreigners so they got my full name and birthdate. They took pictures of me and asked me why I was in the country, how long I had been there, when I was leaving, etc. They were perfectly polite, but it was a little bit scary. We quickened our step on the way home. 

After we got home, we ate lunch and were minding our business as usual when we got a text asking if I had an ID. And then a few minutes later we got a text saying that all foreign missionaries needed to pack a suitcase and be ready to leave at a moment's notice. I just remember Sister V reading the text out loud and then we both looked at each other. For a moment neither of us said anything. We just stared at each other with tears welling up in our eyes. It was a moment of sadness and yet I felt oddly at peace. And then we began to panic. We grabbed my biggest suitcase and started throwing stuff in. But within a couple of minutes we got a call from one of the assistants to the president he told us that Sister V was going to stay with the Sisters in Daet and that SIster R, Sister L, and I were going to stay with the sisters in Pamplona and that we needed to pack VERY LIGHT and HURRY because boundaries between cities were being closed off. We scrambled to not only pack my stuff, but also Sister V’s. Then we went next door and checked on Sister L and Sister R to see if they got the news and how they were managing. 

We only packed our small carry-on size suitcases; we packed very light for two reasons. First,  because we were obedient missionaries and when the Assistant to the President says we need to pack light, we listen. And second, because we didn’t actually know then that we were going home. We thought we were going to stay with the sisters in Pamplona so that we could all be together in case it became temporarily impossible to travel between zones because of boundary restrictions. And we didn’t think it was weird that we were leaving Sister V in Daet because that is where she was supposed to be transferred before everything went crazy. So we scrambled to pack. We kept getting calls from people: our district leader, our zone leaders, and the Assistants to the President. They all said that we needed to get to Daet ASAP. I was so stressed and worried, but I remember that I stood there for a moment and said a prayer. I asked my Heavenly Father to help me know what to pack. When I was finished praying, a feeling of peace settled upon me and I felt a prompting to grab my journals and my bag of letters. I quickly threw those in my suitcase and we high-tailed it out of there.

Getting to Daet was tricky. There were no trikes or jeepnes on the road so we ended up calling our bishop who came to pick us up in his trike. Because of laws in our area and the suitcases, our group of four had to split up to go to Daet. Sister R and Sister L went first. Sister V and I waited and when the Bishop came back, we also headed to Daet. At the boundary between Daet and Mercedes, the police stopped us and said that trikes were only allowed to have one passenger. We were confused because Sister L and SIster R had just gone through and had no issues and we saw other tricycles that were waved through with two passengers in them. We were the only ones they stopped. We tried to negotiate with the police. We told them that missionaries aren’t allowed to separate and that we needed to stay together, but they were firm. They said we would have to go separately or not at all. I considered for a moment if I should wait at the boundary and  let Sister V go first with the Bishop. As soon as I thought this, another thought entered my mind. It seemed to say, “Sister C, don’t do that. This isn’t just about obeying the mission rules. It would not be wise or safe for you to do so. Stay with your companion and protect one another.“ Sister V and I went off to the side and talked to each other for a minute and said a quick prayer. After we were finished, Sister V said something along the lines of, “They won’t let us ride together, but they never said we couldn’t walk together.” We asked the Bishop to take our luggage to the apartment of the sisters in Daet and we walked. We walked swiftly for about half an hour. When we were still quite a long way away from the apartment but clearly out of sight of the boundary, the bishop gave us a call and said he was coming to get us. After he picked us up, Sister V and I kind of ducked down a little in the trike a couple of times to avoid being seen by the police. I am so grateful for our bishop and for God’s protecting hand as we journeyed from Mercedes to Daet. 

When we got to the sisters in Daet, we received word that a van was coming to pick up the foreigners. I left my amazing companion with Sister B and we hopped in a van where everyone was wearing masks and sitting far apart from each other. The driver said, “We are going to Pamplona, but after that are you all ready to go to Manila?” We looked at each other in confusion and someone said, “Wait, what do you mean?” To which he replied, “Don’t you know? You are all going home.” It felt like a weight was crushing my chest. I sat there in disbelief. We were parked at a church and the driver got out to talk to one of the other drivers about directions, seating arrangements, etc. We had recently picked up our district leader, Elder R and a few other elders. Elder R reached over and read us the letter from the Area Presidency that was sitting on the dash. We all sat there in silence for a few moments in complete shock. Thoughts rushed through my head. I thought about everything from seeing my family, to my lack of luggage, to wondering if I would ever get to be a missionary again, to the sorrow of my fellow missionaries, to dying of coronavirus in quarantine. But once my mind raced through all of these concerns and emotions, my mind kept coming back to one major worry, “What will happen to those people I had left behind in Mercedes?” My mind became heavily weighed down and depressed about our recent converts, PBD’s, and  progressing people. As the van drove through the night, I leaned my head against the cool glass of the van’s window and I cried. It wasn’t a loud cry, but it was a constant stream of tears that wouldn’t stop. It was like someone had turned on a faucet and I couldn’t turn it off. I’m not even sure if I wanted to turn it off. As I sat there staring out at the Naga mission, I finally closed my eyes and said a prayer. Unlike my usual prayers that flow naturally, this prayer was difficult. I sat in silence for many moments because I did not know what to say. I remember I felt so sad and even angry at God. I remember thinking like Joseph Smith, “O God where art thou?...How long shall they hand be stayed?” (Doctrine and Covenants 121:1-2). Finally I was able to tell God how I felt and I pleaded with Him for mercy and comfort to everyone who was suffering from the disease, for the people that were losing their missionaries for a time, and to all the missionaries that were living in places they had come to call home. When I was finished praying I felt more at peace. I still felt sad and worried and confused, but the spirit spoke peace to my mind and reminded me that God is in charge and that the work of God will continue to go forth and the gospel will continue to be taken to all nations. And as the van sped through the Naga mission and the sky grew dark, I knew that even when the world seemed as sad and dark as night, Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father would be our light in the wilderness and They would never abandon us. 

We safely arrived in Pamplona on Tuesday night where Sister D and Sister P greeted us warmly. We spent the night there and then on Saturday morning, a van came to pick us up and take us to a church building where we waited for the buses and vans to show up and take us to Manila. From then on my story closely resembles that of all of the other missionaries. We wept and mourned. We were scared and anxious. But above all else we were comforted and protected. By God’s grace and mercy, we made it safely to Manila and then the airport, and then our homes. “For I, the Lord, have put forth my hand to exert the powers of heaven; ye cannot see it now, yet a little while and ye shall see it, and know that I am” (Doctrine and Covenants 84:119).

I will forever be grateful for the Naga mission. I hope I can return someday. But if not, I am so grateful for the people I met there, the things I learned, and the person I started to become because of the Naga mission. Now as I sit in my house in South Jordan, Utah, I feel more homesick than I ever have in my life. And although the Naga mission is beautiful, it is not the palm trees, or the mangos, or the beaches that I miss the most; it is the precious souls and the loving hearts of the Filippino people. It is the spirit that comes with going out every day, bearing pure testimony of Jeus Christ,  and inviting others to come unto Christ by helping them receive the restored Gospel of Jesus Christ. I am so grateful for the miracles that I saw in the Naga mission and the miracle that allowed thousands of missionaries to return safely to their homes. And although I am sad to leave the Philippines, one scripture has brought me a lot of comfort as I have worried over my future and the future of missionaries and people across the world. It reads, “Therefore, dearly beloved brethren, let us cheerfully do all things that lie in our power; and then may we stand still, with the utmost assurance, to see the salvation of God” (Doctrine and Covenants 123:17).