Sister West: Sierra's Story

Hello y’all, My name is Sierra West Hebdon and I was privileged to serve in the Oregon Salem Mission. My story is a complicated one to say the least. To give enough background for my story to make sense, it began my senior year of high school. At my final cheerleading competition I felt two pops in my knee and collapsed to the floor. After being in the ER for hours, the doctors informed me that it was probably just a muscle strain but if I was still feeling pain in the next couple of weeks, to see a specialist. As a soon to graduate senior, ready to move on with life, I rested my knee until I was back to normal function and didn’t think much of it.

Fast forward about a year, I was starting my mission in Oregon and felt on top of the world. About three months into my mission, while serving in the Forest Grove YSA branch, my companion and I decided to do a double cartwheel in their talent show. After practice all day we were pretty confident. While on stage however my knee gave out and I sadly dropped my companion on her face (she forgave me instantly, don’t worry!). At this point the thought of having to go home early crossed my mind but I was not willing to give it too much thought. I wore my knee brace for about a week and saw improvement so didn’t mention it to anyone.

Fast forward 6 months, my mission continued and I continued to find success and joy. I was in the best area with the best companion. One P-day, my companion and I decided to throw a football back in forth in the church cultural hall to just have some fun. While going to catch the ball, my knee gave out yet again. The worst part was looking up to see everyone (including all the elders) staring at me. I immediately got up “laughing” and limped out of the room. When my companion and I got to the hall I started to cry because I knew this time it was not good. We contacted a PA in the ward that worked for a physical therapist. He advised me to wear my brace again and take it easy. If I didn’t see the swelling going down after a few weeks, he advised me to get an MRI. Any missionary knows that is not typically allowed on a mission- the church would send you home to get it done.

Fast forward a few weeks, not much progress was made on my knee. I decided to finally come clean to the mission president's wife and explain that my knee was hurt. However, being as stubborn as I am, I wasn’t completely truthful on how bad it was. She told me she would contact headquarters and see if I could be scheduled for an MRI. On Halloween, a P-day, I got a call from them that I had been approved for an MRI on my knee. However, knowing that the result would probably send me home I told them “no thanks”, and then hung up quickly.

Now it was Christmas time, and I got very sick. Because it was cold and flu season, our mission nurse advised me to stay inside for a few days to see if it would pass. After those three days, I could locate my pain and in a panicked voice she told me to get to urgent care as soon as possible as it may have been my appendix. I will never forget the anxiety I felt as I was sitting in the doctors office and waiting for my fate. There were moments where I wondered if it was all in my head because I was exhausted (missions are hard!). Satan hit me hard at this time to tempt me in thinking that I was just not strong enough to be a good missionary and I was faking the sickness.

The blood work came back the next day as slightly elevated and therefore an ultrasound was scheduled. They were no longer concerned for my appendix but worried that I could have gall stones. They put me on a completely fat free diet to prevent more symptoms. The ultrasound came back normal. I was told that if I had gallstones then they had passed. This was one of the most frustrating parts of my mission, I was still in so much pain that I couldn’t sleep at night, but everyone told me that I was fine.

Fast forward about a month, my companion that became my rock in this trial had been transferred and I was still not doing well. On an exchange with another sister, my knee buckled again while walking down our apartment stairs. I hid it from the sister to make sure she had a great exchange but inside I was just about done with my body. I would wake up every day in so much pain and just pray that Heavenly Father would get me through that day. I felt like the worst missionary in the world at this point.

The moment I knew I was not going to complete my mission was in a world wide missionary broadcast. This was a big one with many changes to every mission. Throughout the entire broadcast I got the prompting that I would not be here for these changes. After the broadcast I went to my mission mom (a member in the ward that became a mom to me) and explained how I was feeling and for the first time on my mission broke down and explained everything that I hid for so long. She explained to me that I was called to this area to do the very best I could and that was enough. I needed to trust in Heavenly Father's plan for me.

Interviews with my mission president happened a few days later and to his and his wife’s surprise I came clean about all my health issues and told them that it was time for me to go home and take care of my health. Of course they understood and the spirit testified that it was the right thing to do.

This was one of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make. There is a stigma out there that missionaries who come home early weren’t good enough to finish. I was worried about what people would say and did not want to feel like I had failed. A unique part of my story is that in my setting apart blessing before my mission, it was said that I would touch the lives of college students, a wealthy family, and a single mother. Before I left my mission I read over that blessing and realized that I completed each of those. This told me that I was meant to go home all along and Heavenly Father let me know that it was okay to end a little early. I was lucky to have this experience to feel okay with my decision.

If you are curious on the rest of my story, I was able to go home in faith that something was waiting for me at home. I discovered that my gallbladder had shut down completely and was double in size. The doctors were amazed that it had not burst while I was in Oregon. I was in surgery to get it removed within a week from being home. My next surgery was to fix my knee. I had torn my ACL in high school and had been walking on it for two years. On my mission I further damaged it by also tearing my meniscus. I now know that Heavenly Father wanted me to be home and now it was time to find out the reason. There could be multiple reasons for me coming home early: my family was in a hard place, I needed to jump start my life, but probably most of all, I needed to meet my future husband.

Within two weeks, I had met my husband and I was married 3 days before my original return date. I came to understand that Heavenly Father has an individual plan for each of us and if we trust him we will find more joy than we could on our own. I also came to know that missionaries that are sent home early whether it be because of physical health, mental health, or any other reason are some of the strongest people you will ever meet.

Sierra West Hebdon

Oregon Salem Mission