Today was one of the most spiritually fulfilling days of my mission. We had a Zone Conference all about Jesus Christ and the doctrine of baptism. I learned so much. I gave my departing testimony that I'll write up later. Afterwards, a missionary came up to me and pulled me to the corner. He pulled out a purple pencil. I had gone on exchanges with this missionary and he had just started his mission three weeks prior. He said, "a little girl came up to me and gave me this pencil and said, 'you gave me hope.' Now, I want to give you this and tell you, you gave me hope." Another elder with whom I just got off the phone told me it changed his mission and his life and gave him new perspective. Now, my testimony was not all that. However, maybe it touched someone in a place they needed? I hope so. I was so nervous about it. But these little confirmations spoke peace to my soul. Both President and Sister Palmer cited my testimony in theirs (Sister Palmer even mentioning the time I showed up in flip flops to my first trainers' meeting). Thinking back on the mission leader who told me the spirit left when I bore my testimony in Zone Conference to this response today, I am amazed at what God has done. Afterwards, I did a personal study about baptism. It was revelatory; one of the best of my life. After asking a deep question about why baptism was chosen to be the ordinance by which we make a covenant with God, President Palmer had cited an inspiring scripture in Moses. After the meeting, I talked with him and said, "the scriptures often talk about the what; rarely talk about the how; but the why comes through revelation." We said the last part simultaneously. Today was another crazy busy day. From 6:30 on it was ward council, church services, coordination meetings, and member lessons. I now have a minute to finally write about my moving exchange with another elder recently. He and I had had an exchange previously in which he told me how his motive for being on a mission was to appease his parents and that he didn't actually believe the church is true—though he saw the doctrine as sound, he didn't feel it. Before the exchange, Elder Peña and I were lying in our beds. I said, "well, I went with this elder last time, I'm guessing I'm going with his companion this time?" There was a silence—something felt out of line. I could tell Elder Peña felt the same. I said, "actually, I'll go with him again this time." He said, "yea, I felt the same." I met with him and we had an interesting companionship study. I opened with a prayer and thanked God for being on missions and asked to understand him better. He didn't say amen. I asked him how he was and how he’d been feeling. "Not much has changed," he said. "Well," he added, "I've told my parents." "Oh, wow," I said surprised. "How did that go?" He said, "well, at first they just thought I didn't know enough about the doctrine. Then, I did a thing for a youth in the ward, and I showed them how I could move people to tears with words that I hate. Now they don’t know what to think." It was a somber feeling. He expressed to me how agency is the biggest lie in the church and how God insists that He knows the plan, and we are to just submit--don't think too hard. To him, God is a tyrannical dictator. He expects obedience and in return for obedience maybe we will receive joy. It's like the leader of the crazy group in Mad Max: Fury Road. I listened. It was deeply moving; it was dark. He lived such a depressing life. I told him I felt for him. If I held his beliefs, I too would act like he acted. I said, "David O. McKay says reverence is the essence of religion, and that religion is profound respect mingled with love. You don’t have that profound respect mingled with love for God or the church. No one shows you that love or respect in the way you like to receive it. That must be hard." I continued, "other missionaries have that reverence, so it's easier." He responded with some passion, "missionaries are the most irreverent people in the world! They can’t muster a single grain of reverence. I had a friend email me about how he was going through this Ugandan revolutionary war museum and the entire time these missionaries just goofed around—even the mission president. They just have no respect for those things." Often, people in the church do not respect the things this elder holds dear, thus creating an emotional separation. I felt for him. He has such a great mind and I loved many of the things he loved! I said, "you know Elder, I look up to you." That stopped him in his tracks. A rare smile peered from underneath a usually stony face. "Why," he asked, "why would you—. What?" I answered, "I love your mind! I love how you think critically. I love your love for detail and your reverence for the good others may overlook in the world. I really look up to your sense of humor and your wit; it's so cool. I really just appreciate you." Taken aback, he said, "well, thank you." We walked to a lesson and on the way I street contacted a few people. He despises this (and I would too if I was roping people awkwardly into something I believed brought mostly pain into my life). On our long walk back, we walked though a skinny, overgrown trail winding its way along a train track to our apartment. I asked, "so, you'd go home if it didn't take so much convincing of others, right?" "Yes," he replied. I said, "in all likelihood, you'll be here for the next 8 months." He agreed. I said, "well, while you’re here, what's your goal?" "Survive." he said. "That's been the goal for a long time now." I said, "well, why not make more of it? You have these eight months, so why not? Now, I know you've been told countless times before about finding out if the church is true and you've done those steps...how has it gone?" "I'm sick of the cycle," he said, "I've done it so many times. I get humbled, I pray, and nothing happens." I said, "I recognize that that's true. That must be so annoying then, to be told this over and over. So, will you do something new this time? Will you simply pray to feel God’s love? As much study as we do and knowledge that we may attain, we can justify and find loopholes in anything. The reason I believe, Elder, is only because of the spirit I've felt. No logic could prove it definitively." "The spirit is the convincing power. I agree with you and so many of your points! It's hard for me to feel it too sometimes. As I've prayed to feel it, it has come. Will you pray to want it?" He expressed concern about how that was a psychological trick to get you to believe, which I also think about sometimes in regard to meditation and such. The difference is the spirit. Seriously, it is the defining difference. I asked him how he felt about it. He said, "you know, it makes sense; it seems like the next logical move." I said, "I want you to know something, I have no interest in tricking you into anything or keeping you active in the church. Whether or not you stay in the church, I still want to be friends! In fact, anyone who thinks otherwise is not acting as Christ would." He told me earlier that he felt like God gave just one way and that's it; any other way leads to eternal hell fire. He said, "I'm damned. I'm a horrible member. As far as the church is concerned, I'm hell-bound." I said, "I can understand that feeling." Christ says something a little different, though. It took me a few minutes, but I found the scripture. "Nevertheless, ye shall not cast him out of your synagogues, or your places of worship, for unto such shall ye continue to minister; for ye know not but what they will return and repent, and come unto me with full purpose of heart, and I shall heal them." "Whenever you feel it, Elder, Christ is excited to heal you. As far as I'm concerned, your activity in the church has no impact on my appreciation of you. You're welcome whenever." He said "thank you." I could tell it touched him. "I love you Elder. Do you believe me?" He paused, then said, "yes. You don’t say it like most do; you seem genuine." At the end of the exchange, I prayed for him. I asked that he may feel God’s love and find happiness. I thanked God for his good character. At the end, he said amen. Though it was spiritually straining to be with someone who felt so numb, it was an incredible shift. It might have only been just a little bit, but it was worth it. Later we were at a big meeting and a missionary was bearing her testimony and said, "you wouldn't come out here unless you believed the church was true!" I looked over at this elder who was already turning to look at me. I smiled. He smiled. He had someone. That brought me so much joy. All I wanted as a young missionary was to not feel so alone. Today, we taught a lesson using sidewalk chalk and another lesson in which I used a Karl Sagan quote. We were driving by a group of kids playing Spikeball and one screamed, "Elder Whiteley!" We pulled over and played a few rounds with him and his friends. It was so great! I could stay here another year. That's what is so wonderful about the mission. You fall in love with the area, the companion, and the people. Everyone keeps asking, "how do you feel about home?" I'm happy to be so sad to leave. If I were happy to leave, I'd be sad! What a waste of time this would have been. I wouldn't have fallen in love with all of these fantastic people and places. Friends I'd sacrifice for—have sacrificed for—are bonded to the history of my life forever. Including J. She's 70 years old and struggles with her health, so she texted us and asked us how she could come to church. Per usual, we found her familiar street. We parked and walked up to her house: a small, part-trailer-part-building with a long, skinny yard. In the yard rest three pitbulls and two chihuahuas. We walked up to the fence; white paint peeling, with plastic and tin blocking the bottom to keep the chihuahuas contained. The dogs came rushing out. We said hi, they calmed down, and we made our way to the crabapple tree. We sat down, as we had done many times before. She had such a glow to her. Under the crabapple tree, we taught truth that brought the light of Christ as we were shaded from the heavy light of the sun. As I held her hand and walked her back to her home, I explained that I'm leaving for home on the fifth. "Would you mind moving your baptismal date up so I could be there?" "Oh, sure," she said. "How soon?" I told her only a few days. She agreed. On my last day as a missionary, I get to help someone make their first covenant with God. What a joy! When I picture her, she stands in her front yard watching her late daughter's grandson. This week, though tired and with her grandson, she still got herself to church. The entire congregation greeted her and she was so happy. In my testimony I talked about how we're asked to love everyone—not just for their sakes—but our own. Today I fasted in gratitude for my entire mission. Today was great. A year ago, Nebraska was the pivot point in my mission. It changed me. It took all this raw material of mistakes made and how I had adapted to mission life and helped me form myself into a cohesive mass for doing good far more effectively and charitably than I had previously been capable. Today I've just been serving others all day; I feel so full. If you ever feel empty...study, pray, then go out and forget yourself and serve. Nothing can replace it. The wastelands of this life—freeway-side trailer parks, apartments next to halfway housing, a crammed basement apartment in the Casper winter—have truly become a paradise to me. They are places of immense joy—joy beyond description. These places, these people, this purpose has brought me fulfillment, happiness, knowledge, and progression more than anything else. God truly has orchestrated this beautiful arrangement for this act in my life. As the dramatic emotions, companion relationships, people coming to God, missionaries finding their testimonies, members coming back to Christ, and finding myself in Christ, come to an end in this season of my life, we'll follow this storytelling rule my dad always told me: "leave ‘em wanting more." See you soon, dad.
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Karen has lovingly and consistently emailed me my entire mission. She always has thoughtful things to say and encouraging words to pass on. At the end, she always writes how many days I have left. It always reads 600, 500, or 300 some-odd days. Today, she said, "you have 19 days." It was the first email I had ever received from her in which I could comprehend the amount of time I had left. I got strangely emotional giving my bike away. I really loved that thing. After my bike wheels got stripped sophomore year, my mom bought me a total dad bike so I exchanged it for this bright green mountain bike instead. I rode it up Fenelon every morning on my way to seminary, zipping through Ralph's and Rosencrantz to High Tech High, then riding back exhausted after practice. I spent many lovely hours in Wyoming, biking around Casper following Elder Laudie. I remember riding my bike in suit pants and a crossbody bag up 21st street on a huge hill. Elder Laudie glided ahead. I passed a sign that said Sweetwater Road. At the time, I would have given anything just to be in Sweetwater, San Diego and ride back home again. Many times I locked my bike up with Laudie's on a street sign, locked it to the park bench for summer practice, or on the bike rack outside Mr. Aguirre's classroom as I was late to school. I had to give it a hug before I gave it away—I've had it longer than I've had a license. Now, another missionary gets to enjoy the great adventures that come along with it. Today was a good day. Elder Peña and I were both absurdly exhausted. I slept during lunch, dinner, and all our drives. I was so tired. Elder Peña and I are doing so well. We are doing so much good, too. We went to a man's house to pull weeds. He didn't answer the door, but we went to the back to the sea of weeds and began working. Just shy of an hour later, he came out back. He sat and talked with us as we finished up our time there. He confessed that since the divorce he has fallen back on alchohol and the craving for cigarettes is becoming unbearable. We gave him words of comfort, invited him to forgive himself and find personal applications of the Atonement, and gave him a blessing. In this lonely man's life, I hope we were a light. We visited another friend and had an amazing lunch with him. He talked about his prison days and how his temple shifts are going. He is really happy. We visited with an older couple we are teaching and helped stain their daughter's deck as a surprise to her before she comes back from a trip. We answered questions and visited many people, some of whom we've never met, and shared light. Everywhere we went, though exhausted, we were filled. I will miss this fulfillment. It doesn't always go this well. Earlier this month during a lesson with a family, we got into a discussion that I found funny, where I mentioned how I didn't like Disney. I probably went a little too far in poking around the subject. I said the prayer as we left, and I prayed that Disney would make better content. When we got out, Elder Peña was angry—so angry he wouldn't speak to me. I finally got him to talk and he told me how disrespectful and irreverent I was, how I broke trust and he implied he felt the spirit leave when I prayed. Now I've had three strikes: bearing testimony, reading scriptures, and praying...all times I have had someone tell me the spirit left when I did them. But I remembered something Sister Palmer said as an off-hand reaction to my joking about the man telling me the spirit left when I read the scriptures. She said, "oh, they just don’t know you well enough yet." That touched me so deeply. Maybe Elder Peña just didn't get me yet. Later, during a dull, uneventful comp study in which we just read meaninglessly to one another, he finally said, "is there something wrong?" I told him how I felt misunderstood. He said, "I want to try to understand you. I just don't. I don't get what's going on in your head." I said, "you never will, but that's ok. The point is to just repent and improve. God will aid this to work for our favor. These moments don't define a companionship. They're the smoothing of tough paths." Later, Elder Anduro and I went on exchanges and he said something that struck me. He said, "I'm going to miss my mission; I've never had so much fun!" That wouldn't be the first way I'd describe the mission. However, looking back, I have had some of my happiest memories here in WY, CO, and NE. It is certainly not fun in any traditional sense. A woman asked me recently, "how did you deal with the idiosyncrasies of mission culture?" I told her how I really just fell in love with it. Even its downsides become endearing. The short-sleeved white collared shirt, lame p-days, and awkward public interactions have become something I've appreciated and enjoyed. I'll enjoy not having them, too. Two of my high school friends, Sienna and Max, are hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. It's crazy to me they've been dating this long. Who would have thought? Sienna, in describing life on the trails, said, "the trail community is amazing, I think you would really enjoy it. Assuming you haven’t changed too much since I last saw you lol." I thought about that. The email was endearing and lovely, and I hope to join them on a section! My mom told me Nate and Reed, dropping off my birthday present last March, confessed they worried I'd come back completely different. She reassured them I'd still be the same. But I wonder...what have been the differences? I know I've changed, but trail life and screwing around still sound like a blast! I suppose it is much like editing a photo. When you take a photo, you collect data. Bringing it into editing software allows you to use that raw data to articulate an image. I'm still all the same raw data, just better edited. I've pulled out colors, removed grain, and played with shadows. I've enjoyed this process. Though I may be the same person, I hope I am far better than I once was. I've been wrestling with this idea I haven't been able to articulate until tonight. I was joking around with some members about why girls camp is such a strange ordeal and said, "you know, girls camp is really where discipleship and mischief meet." The mom laughed out loud. "That's going in my journal," she said. I've been wrestling with this idea of discipleship and mischief. Especially with home on the horizon, it seems I'll have a little more time for that. Now, the question is not when do I set aside my discipleship; the question is how do my curiosity and mischief play into my discipleship? I'll make mistakes, that's certain; however, I'm thrilled to find out how. It's an incredible thing to progress. It is not easy. It is wonderful. And it is heart wrenching. For instance, I am afraid out of my mind right now. For the first time, due to a series of odd events, I am showing a companion my blog...while we are companions. He is actually reading, from my perspective, about our companionship. Now, here's how this occurred. On exchanges during lunch, I reviewed the blog, something I rarely do. I was pretty shocked at what my mom had decided to include this time. It talks a lot about Elder Peña in the most deep and vulnerable moments of our companionship. That's not usually an issue, but a few days ago I was with a different elder. At the end of a pleasant lesson we were walking out the door, and as we took steps down the porch the gentleman we were visiting said, "hey Elder Whiteley, can I talk to you?" His wife gathered the kids and we stood on the porch. He looked at my companion. "Elder Jensen, would it be ok if we spoke alone?" Elder Jensen walked a little farther off. Oddly enough, this wasn't the first time this has happened. He said, "well, hello." "Hi," I answered, "what's up?" He said, "so, I was reading your blog yesterday and I had some concerns." Surprised, I asked, "what were they? How did you find my blog?" He answered, "I was scrolling on your Facebook and I found it." He continued, "it went into some pretty confidential stuff about a companion and even talked about an elder you had hard feelings for. I'm a counselor and deal with a lot of confidentiality issues. I just wanted to make sure you're aware." I affirmed that nothing on the blog included thoughts I hadn't made (or wouldn't make) directly to the people I write about. I also affirmed that I had asked Elder Peña's permission. After that conversation, it got my mind really working. How does Elder Peña feel about this? Does he know how brutally real I am? I got nervous; I even second-guessed the existence of the blog. "No," I reminded myself...this is part of the gig. I then whirlwinded into telling Elder Peña about it. Currently, he's laughing. He got through the first post. He said, "it's nothing I didn't know." We read my first post from the field and a post from Nebraska. He really enjoyed it! He told me it was helpful to get to know me. This really helped grow a lot of trust and he says he has no worries about it. He told me how much he loved and appreciated me after reading it. He just asked, "have I improved in my teaching since you wrote that I was a dull listen?" "Yes! I'm so glad you brought this up! Seriously, you've become so engaging and a much better teacher." He said, "good." He paused, then said, half- laughing, "I can see you're rubbing off on me in not bad ways." The man who cautioned me about the blog jabbed at a very vulnerable place without warning. When Elder Peña finished reading the rest, he called it insightful and said it was what happened. He's not mad, he affirmed. I sure hope that's true. Later, talking with Elder Peña at the end of weekly planning, we lay on the floor staring at the ceiling. During comp inventory, you try to ask the other person about things you can do better. He asked me, and I said, "I really just want you to remember how far we've come. Remember when you told me you gave up on our companionship? That seems ridiculous now. I want you to remember that feeling and then the steps we took to get where we are now." I shared my favorite poem. In response, he said, "I don’t love the idea of 'just letting everything happen to you.'" I said, "not everyone is as strong as you, Elder Peña. The companions you've had, the areas you've been in, and the struggles you face are incredible; I can't comprehend them. Most couldn't comprehend it, and those who can aren't facing it with as much class as you are." He told me he could tell how much I loved others and how he now understood me better. He told me how others see it too, even though last transfer people didn't really get me. He said people see my love. I said, "really?" He said, "most...and if they don't, they feel it." That meant a lot. An Alabama Shakes song came into my head that says, “now, I'm stepping on a plane; to fly somewhere I have never been; oh, Lord; don’t leave me on my own; because I still can’t get what I want.” During the lesson where I argued over the merits of Disney, I'd mentioned how I loved Of Mice and Men. The mom told me how much she hated Steinbeck. Even while we were leaving, the dad critiqued my comparing Steinbeck to Mormon, saying that Mormon had to write reality that was depressing, Steinbeck chose to write fiction that was depressing. Walking out the door, I said, "fiction doesn't mean it's not real." “Sometimes a kind of glory lights up the mind of a man. It happens to nearly everyone. You can feel it growing or preparing like a fuse burning toward dynamite. It is a feeling in the stomach, a delight of the nerves, of the forearms. The skin tastes the air, and every deep-drawn breath is sweet. Its beginning has the pleasure of a great stretching yawn; it flashes in the brain and the whole world glows outside your eyes. A man may have lived all of his life in the gray, and the land and trees of him dark and somber. The events, even the important ones, may have trooped by faceless and pale. And then—the glory—so that a cricket song sweetens his ears, the smell of the earth rises chanting to his nose, and dappling light under a tree blesses his eyes. Then a man pours outward, a torrent of him, and yet he is not diminished. And I guess a man’s importance in the world can be measured by the quality and number of his glories. It is a lonely thing but it relates us to the world.” -John Steinbeck, East of Eden Out of all the ways God chose to teach us, He chose stories. I guess I love real stories because they help me know more about God. And those who believe in God, Nephi teaches, shall surely hope for a better world.
Well, I've entered the last calendar month of my mission. I had such a good day today. We had MLC and it was so uplifting. I joked with President Palmer about getting him a massage chair for these meetings. He said, "I like that thinking; you're getting an extension!" I looked around the room before the meeting started. I knew almost no one. I had seen this look on others' faces. Elder Seamons and Elder Smith had that look at transfer point. Elder Conrad had that look at his last MLC. It's the look a senior has as the end of high school begins to be counted in weeks instead of years. What you thought was an eternity is coming to a close. The event horizon was breached. Early on in my mission, I had walked into meetings and known no one. It felt lonely. Then, over time, it becomes a home. I knew almost everyone and felt at the center of an intricately moving dynamic of people. Now, I sit on the other shore. Today I felt alone in a group of missionaries. I haven't felt that in close to two years. President Palmer never ceases to amaze me. In long meetings that are mentally and spiritually draining, he takes every moment to prepare and to minister. "You're a good man, Elder Whiteley," I can hear his voice ring in my ears. He has a gift for seeing people. He sees something in me; something great. Something I can't see. In one of my newfound favorite verses, Isaiah 58:10, it reads: "And if thou draw out thy soul to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted soul; then shall thy light rise in obscurity, and thy darkness be as the noonday." There is a big question that looms at the end of this six weeks: what to do when forever ends? When I lived with Elder Laudie in Casper, I told him I was running home. I said that over the course of my mission I would run the mileage equivalent of Casper to San Diego...1,140 miles. Likely thinking about all the wind and snow, Elder Laudie said it wouldn't happen, but I've made it from 924 East 21st Street in Casper, Wyoming to Fenelon Street in San Diego, California. I even added the miles to the new house I haven't seen yet. Pretty wild. Provo MTC: Elder Daniels 90 run 1,050 to go Casper 3rd: Elder Laudie Part I 25 run 1,025 to go Casper 3rd: Elder Laudie Part II 37 run 988 to go Casper 3rd: Elder Laudie Part III: 13 run 975 to go Casper 3rd: Elder Laudie Part IV: 3 run 972 to go Casper 3rd: Elder Laudie Part V: 13 run 959 to go Greely University YSA 2: Elder Seamons: 101 run 858 to go Tri-city: Elder Smith: 102 run 756 to go Highland: Elder Hoggan: 155 run 601 to go Scottsbluff: Elder Keenan: 176 run 415 to go Scottsbluff: Elder Keenan: 165 run 250 to go Scottsbluff: Elder Sedgwick: 36 run 214 to go Scottsbluff: Elder Sedgwick: 27 run 187 to go Glenmere: Elder Conrad: 50 run 137 to go Glenmere: Elder Prescott: 24 run 113 to go Glenmere: Elder Ramos: 53 run 60 to go HLK: Elder Peña: 138 to go HLK: Elder Peña: 35.5 to go As I've mentioned, Elder Peña is a runner too, and we're getting a lot of runs in lately because we're meeting with someone who is an ultra-marathoner. Today we went running with him on this amazing run. It was 1700 feet in elevation and 7 miles long. The first 3 ½ were uphill and I stayed back with Matt as Elder Peña ran ahead. He would dip around corners and there were periods where I couldn't see him. On the way down, I got some tips from Matt on how to run downhill and I kept up, but Elder Peña stayed significantly behind. I had to wait and run back for him. We needed to stay together, but I thought it was important to be with Matt. I thought Elder Peña should do the same, so I operated independently. We talked about it, and he was pretty defensive. He's quick to be defensive and shut down. I have strong feelings and I talk about it. He has strong feelings but doesn't talk about it. That's really difficult. For three days in a row, I've had really bad anxiety attacks surrounding personal study. So bad, I haven't been able to study at all. On Tuesday, my mom went to another room and asked about my mental wellbeing. I was surprised that out of all calls, she'd choose this one to bring it up. I had just had my first difficult day with studies the day prior. These past few days since have been really difficult. Elder Peña has voiced annoyances that finally outgrew his fear of confrontation. I've had to deal with the reality of how my personality fits in with the different personalities that surround me. Others may not receive love the way I give love or see the difference between my mental health struggles and the person I am. Hopelessness accompanies anxiety like the nausea after a kick to the groin. As the day wore on, I was pretty frustrated with him. I got some sleep, went on minis, and felt better by the end of the day. We had dinner with someone who was like, "awww, you got six weeks guaranteed together. You liking each other so far?" We kinda laughed, but I knew he didn't have the most pleasant things to say. The next day I wanted to sleep during lunch because I was horribly exhausted. After a significantly long conversation, he finally told me how he wanted me to be cleaner and more timely. All that had to happen was for him to politely ask me to do something, and I would have begun to do it. It took him waiting for weeks, being annoyed that I didn't live his standards, for him to say anything. I wish I could help people understand how I like to be communicated with. If you just communicate how you feel, I'll act accordingly. Alas, people do not like that. Instead of sleeping, I put away dishes and swept. Then I slept. He said, "thanks for doing that." I didn't respond. Later we arrived at Brother Esplin's and he talked about how Gordon B. Hinkley visited him and my grandpa when they were on their missions in Hong Kong. Someone asked him what his favorite scripture was. "I like all of them," he responded, "but there is one that comes to mind: 'That which is of God is light; and he that receiveth light, and continueth in God, receiveth more light; and that light groweth brighter and brighter until the perfect day.'" I thought, camera work is capturing that light—both metaphorically and literally. He closed the door as we left and said, "remember the light!" That struck me deeply. It renewed my vigor to proceed and chase divine desire, despite risk or fear. When we arrived home there was an awkward silence. There was so much tension. I sat down and wrote in my journal. As I wrote, Elder Peña got up and went to bed; an hour before usual. I sat and pondered for awhile. I knew journaling was good. I would rather finish journaling. However, I also knew I should go talk to him. The idea came to mind to just apologize. I sat there for a good minute and considered. A distinct memory came back of my time skiing in Sun Valley. I love to ski. My dad was so excited to show me new things and take me around Baldy. He took me to the bowls—a steep and open portion of the resort. I skied along a long string of cat tracks until we reached the spot where there was a steep drop-off to a steeper descent. My dad dropped down, not carving some specific trail, but just sent it. I looked over the drop-off, then to my dad. "Come on!" he yelled. I remember just staring at it. What other option did I have? I couldn't go back. I remember making the jump and landing and following in my dad's tracks. I found some of my favorite skiing on the bowls. It took so much work—getting ready, going up, cat tracking there—to finally get there, and a small ridge was the only remaining obstacle. Still, I almost turned back. Because I sent it, I had so much fun. As D&C 66:6 states, "inasmuch as ye can send; send. Take no thought for yourself..." I walked into the room and lay down. I took another minute. I said, "sorry for being a jerk today, I'll do better tomorrow." A long pause ensued. To break the silence, he said, "is there anything I can do to make it easier?" I said, "yes... three things: listen to what I have to say, even if you don't like it, just listen; don't assume you know what I'm thinking--you'll probably be wrong; and please communicate how you feel." A long discussion followed. He confessed to me that a few days ago, he gave up on our companionship. He just thought that he couldn't understand me and that he should just endure it. I thought, "that's so stupid." We talked about it, and eventually he said, "do you think you understand me?" I paused, thought, then said, "of course not. I've tried. I've asked questions and listened and tried to talk to you about it. I don't know what else to do." The conversation went on slowly. After expressing to me his frustration with me being late to my studies (I was having anxiety attacks about the tension in our companionship), I said, "I don't see why that's such a big deal." He said, "well, part of the reason I want to get out and go is because of what's happening at home. If I sit around too much it just festers and I think about how bad it is—." He stopped. He, as silently as he could, began to cry. For seven weeks, he has held strange and inconsistent expectations for me. He would rush and push on P-days to hit as many activities as we could. He'd get angry when we had to sit outside and wait for elders (who were facing struggles of their own). While my anxiety escalated as he grew in intensity and silence, I was having to step back because I had no idea what was going on. Eventually, it came to this obscure peak; I didn't know what to do. I tried talking about it, but he was always cryptic and wouldn't budge from his line of thinking. Then, he broke. He broke open. It made so much sense! You're not mad that we're late to hang out with missionaries on P-day; you're facing challenges that are beyond my comprehension. He could not articulate that until now. I had been the enemy in his eyes. I stayed patient, even though I was driven to the brink, and eventually it cracked open. I rolled over, got out of bed, and hugged him. I told him I loved him, that everything would be ok, that I was so impressed with his bravery and tenacity, his willingness to serve was incredible, and that I was so sorry if I added any load to his burden. Now that I knew, I would do everything I could, I told him, to make this burden lighter. I was fighting blind before. I'm beginning to realize how difficult adulthood is. It's been ever evident to me recently. As I'm nearing the beginning of dating and early family life (eventually), I am seeing how untrained parents really are. The job is relentless. It's real. It's difficult. A speaker recently reminded us how life gets so much more difficult after the mission. Kids, callings, and careers can all use more attention. These days might sound relentless, but at least you get to pick what you do (for the most part), who you choose to spend time with (for the most part), and have sex. There are certainly benefits to later life. As a kid, it's incomprehensible to imagine your forever ending. But forever-endings are crucial to happiness. In mortality, each forever ends—and it ends for a joyful cause. As this forever wraps up, I'm excited to begin my next one. To be fully enveloped in the world of home and college. I suppose I call this my forever because it is forever a part of me. It forever changes me. It forever helps me be happy. And I'll have these memories forever. Every day, I've tried to share a message of how our forevers never really end, but we continue to build off of them to string together an eternal life under the direction of that Great Artist, Jesus Christ. Be all in—that's a forever. And, "God will feel after you. He will take hold of you and wrench your very heart strings, and if you cannot stand it you will not be fit for an inheritance. All difficulties which might and would cross our way must be surmounted. Though the soul be tried, the heart faint, and the hands hang down, we must not retrace our steps; there must be a decision of character.” -- Joseph Smith
While walking at a park, there was an older couple sitting at a park bench next to the sidewalk. We said hi and I said, "hey, you probably know what we do—." She cut me off, "oh, I know." I said, "well, could I ask you if—." "Why don't you get a life!" she yelled. "It's a free country." I gasped, then paused, then said, "wow, after 20 years, I'm so glad to learn that this is a free country. Thank you so much." She kept heckling as her husband tried to calm her down. I walked away. I'm still not the best at keeping my cool in those situations. If not for my religion, I would have let her know what I probably should keep to myself. Hold your peace, Christ advises. He must be so disappointed watching me lose my peace to some old hag. I'll try to be more loving. Rephrasing that previous sentence would probably be a good start. Today was a good day. We had a revelatory MLC today. I was energetic and a little bit of a spaz, including knocking over some stuff on my table while trying to slide under it to get to my chair, and I didn't get too hard on myself. President reminded me, "I love having you here, you're a good man." I think he knows how quickly I forget. I think God wants me to understand that, and I'm getting better. Yesterday, I went on exchanges with Elder Stewart. I have had very few interactions with him. The few I have had seemed fake or like he was just correcting me. Thus, I wasn't thrilled with the idea of an exchange with him. I was almost mad. We daily planned and we had a dispute about a planning method and I was pretty sharp about it. I prayed for peace and for love. I remember thinking, "this guy knows nothing about me. Why should I take his advice?" We sat down for comp study and he said, "well, Elder Whiteley, I don't know anything about you." He went on and asked a few basic questions. He just listened. It opened the door for me to talk, even if I didn't realize it. As I went throughout the exchange, I realized how well-meaning and thoughtful he was. I learned about the trials he faced coming on a mission and had a whole new perspective on how good this kid was. How stupid it was for me to judge him so harshly. Frankly, it's exactly what I struggle with as a leader. Learning to forgive and be kind will do far more than anything else. I had a man walk up to me mid-conversation in church. He grabbed my shoulder and said, "I need to talk to you." I followed the older gentleman a stride or two away from the conversation my companion was finishing up. He said, "the spirit left when you read the scriptures." Caught off-guard, I attempted to recall what he may have been talking about. I asked him to jog my memory. He said, "when we were reading in Come, Follow Me with Mike and Maddie (recent members to the church), you read it theatrically. I felt the spirit leave. You were drawing the attention to yourself; you took away from the scriptures. Even Maddie noticed it. What if she starts doing that? I even talked with my wife about it and she agreed." My face was blank. I had a lot of thoughts and feelings about what he said—but I didn't have any formulated conclusion. I said, "well, my apologies." This isn't the first time I've heard something like this. He said, "no need to apologize. Be humble; be teachable." He walked away. I didn't know how I should feel about it. Maybe he was right that it detracted from the feeling of the scriptures. It's quite possible that this older couple felt peeved by something new and different—a different way of someone expressing their love for the scriptures. Either way, know your audience. The point is to help them feel the spirit; to try to meet them where they are. The Sacrament meeting fell short a few minutes, so they asked me from the pulpit to bear my testimony to close the meeting. I got up there and felt comfortable. I was being myself. I talked about my personal experience in Casper and coming to love others by becoming like them as Paul commands in 1 Corinthians 9:22-23. I hoped the congregation would try to rewire their brains to consider their trials opportunities to learn how to aid others in their trials. I had a few people throughout the day comment on my testimony. One told me, "I can't believe you just got up their unprepared and talked like that! I would have started crying!" These theatrics do not detract from the spirit. They do, however, need to be bridled. It takes time. In a Come, Follow Me lesson later that evening, the Lord's commandment to not hide your talents, but use them, was reiterated. I had forgotten that we were to do comp study from 8 to 9, and Elder Peña wanted to go visit some other missionaries instead. I asked him if we could do comp study, citing the importance of these studies. At the end of the study, he told me he wanted to work on being a more engaging teacher. Elder Peña, bless his heart, is well-meaning but can be a dull listen when teaching. So, I asked him to read part of Saints with me. He felt uncomfortable trying to read it with enthusiasm. He felt so self-conscious. It's almost as if he was timid because of his lack of self-confidence in what he was saying and/or how it would be perceived. Finally, I said, "Elder Peña, tell me a story." "I don't know," he responded. "Tell me about your mother." "She grew up in Tucson." "Have you been?" "Yea." "What did you like about it?" "There was a park there." "What did you like about it?" "It was shaped like a G. It was called circle g park." "Is that what made it fun?" "No, my family was there." "What do you love about your family?" There was a deep, long silence. "What are you thinking about?" "I'm worried about them. I don't know where my focus should be. I'm out here trying to give people what I'm losing at home." "What's that?" "Having a happy family together." Elder Peña's parents are separated and going through a divorce. "I'm afraid they're losing what I'm trying to hold on to," he confessed. I hugged him. I told him how much I loved him. I told him it would be alright and that I was so impressed with his spiritual stature. At first, I was tempted to preach or to read scriptures in response. Instead, I based it on him. If needed, I tapped into personal experience. Then, this scripture came naturally: "Dearly beloved [Elder Peña], let us cheerfully do all things that lie in our power, then may we stand still, with the utmost assurance, to see the salvation of God, and for His arm to be revealed. " I told Sister Palmer about that older man telling me the spirit left when I read the scriptures. She said, "oh, that just means they don't know you well enough." Theatrics and my personality are vital to my ministry. They must be tailored. They do a lot of good, and I may misuse them, but I will not hide them for fear of intolerance or being misunderstood. I'm here to learn, to make mistakes, and to tell great stories. I am here to get lost in others' lives.
Today was fantastic! Elder Peña and I went trail running out in the countryside up this small mountain. It was beautiful. A small dirt road slowly escalated into a thick fog. We ran into the clouds and through some farmland and ridges. It was so much fun. I am excited to continue to run trails and get more fit. I had an interesting discussion with my mom on Mother's day. We were discussing how strange it was to have such little time left on the mission. With love and foresight only a mother seems to have, she said, "I'm excited to have you home, but I'm more excited to see what the Lord will teach you over these last 88 days. This is such a special time in your life -- this is the last time you will be in this type of position. I can't wait to see what He will teach you." With those inspired words, I took a new look at these last 88 days. I no longer just had 88 days left, but instead saw 88 more days to learn. I feel utterly engaged. I am learning what (and what not) to worry myself over—and when and how much I should worry myself. I am learning to take on a large load; one I would never have been able to bear earlier in my mission, let alone at home. I am so excited to give my all. My person has changed. My disposition has shifted. It’s wonderful. I had a good talk with Elder Peña. We were doing a comp study activity and I said, "let's teach the Restoration in 10 seconds." We started at a minute, and at first he was just talking really fast. I said, "the catch is, you can't talk fast." He said, "that's dumb." We continued. Later, it clicked...he didn't think it was dumb, he is just sick of my ideas. He is soft-spoken and prone to follow. I asked what I could do better. I waited. He said "I don't have anything." I kept at it, and he said, "if we could switch off more in lessons, it would help a lot. Preach My Gospel tells us to take turns and says it will be more interesting." In my high school Socratic seminars, we would be graded by others watching us on a few categories. I scored a 5/5 on dominance. At the time, that made me happy -- that is, until someone pointed out how that was a section that was about "things to work on." Listen more than you speak. Listen. We spent the day visiting members of the local church. We hardly had a spare moment. We taught and laughed and got out in decent time. I am so much more time-conscious then I used to be. In one lesson, I was asked to say the closing prayer. I asked if there was anything I could pray for. The wife asked me to pray for her husband. I did, and interesting words came to me. I prayed that he'd know when to rest and when to let things be. She raised her head and had tears in her eyes. She said, "in 10 years of having missionaries to this house, I've never had a missionary ask me what they could pray for; that was exactly what we needed to hear." We had some open time and went and visited a person we were teaching. He was a little bit of a drive away, and when we arrived, he wasn't home. I remembered President's counsel that, though someone may not be home, the Lord could use them as a method to place you where you need to be. Earlier, I had looked at this section of our area on our map while texting people and noted to myself a few households without phone numbers. We drove up and parked at the first house. An old Mexican lady was sitting in a yard chair looking out over the road. We walked up and said hello. We asked her how she was. Turns out, she was formerly taught by other missionaries and said she enjoyed it. I asked her how she was doing. She replied, "well, my daughter died on Wednesday. It's been different." I felt for her. A small discussion began about her daughter's death, but I remembered something my mom shared with me from an NPR podcast when I was 12 or so. The advice was this: don't ask how they died, ask what they were like. I asked, "what was your daughter like?" A smile protruded from underneath her fabricated solemnity. She teared up as she told us she was always a happy-go-lucky girl. She was only 41. I told her, "I know you will enjoy her happy-go-lucky personality again. You will see her again." She held back more tears. All the little things—using time wisely to look at the map, hearing the still, small voice by not listening to music, listening and retaining President's counsel—led to the ability to invite one soul to the greater happiness that rests in Christ. It's a wonderful thing. I went on an exchange earlier this week. On many exchanges, I have felt a pressure to correct and teach. But I've learned that is not my job. My job is to love, share, and invite. Instead, I listened. As we were driving, we were talking and, as I felt appropriate, I asked, "do you believe the church is true?" He replied, "if it is any Christian sect, it's this one." He went on and told me about his anxiety on the mission, his deep distaste for the culture, the overwhelming feeling of widespread pressure to produce, and many other things. I thought about his insights, agreed to some points, and added that I believed that was the case because there is always opposition to God's ways. He stayed quiet. I asked, "how do you feel about that?" He said, "I've never had someone internalize what I've said before. They typically just yell at me." I really loved his mind. He told me he has never, within memory, felt the spirit, but thinks the doctrine holds up. He knows the promises come to pass. When he was in the temple, he told me he really just wanted to leave, but everyone and their neighbor's dog was there, so he felt he couldn’t. "If I felt so much pressure," he confessed, "are those promises really valid?" He said it seems the church is all about manipulating agency to the 99.9th%. That's a struggle I have faced. I have felt ostracized because of my thinking and often felt lonely because of my mind. I have felt unhealthy anxiety. I have had similar questions. These have rocked me. However, I've also felt the spirit. I've come to know God. God has enabled my trials to become my strengths. What I once viewed as weakness, I am again seeing can be made strong. He is my rock and my Salvation; my steadiness now, and my everlasting joy later. Over dinner, I spent a long time looking at his Hot Wheel collection. There was so much more depth to it than I ever thought. They were models of racing car history for storied car companies he knew and loved. He told stories about each of the designs and we talked about our love for beautifully designed cars. I listened to him geek out about high performing racing companies and F-1. I really came to appreciate him. At the end of the day, I asked him how he liked the exchange. His deep, often monotone voice, lifted and said, "I actually really enjoyed today, which breaks the mold of most Zone Leader exchanges. You didn't come in here and try to pretend to grind ridiculously hard or fake anything or tell me your way of missionary work is right. You were genuine; I could tell you really care." He went on and said, "thanks for letting me talk about cars. One of the ways I judge a person's character is by how fast they cut me off when I talk about cars." 2 years ago—two—I went to the doctor's to get my mission medical appointments figured out. When I saw a memory from two years ago on Google photos, I was shook. Now I have more t-shirts packed than I have P-days left in the mission. Still...I can't wait to change. I am eager to change my unwillingness to change. It is a process. From day one, you think what it would be like to give your homecoming talk. You just see so much change and want to share it with those you love. Today, I had to be in an apartment with an Elder for a few hours as he recovered from his second COVID vaccination. I sat and grinded for two hours texting and calling members. I was so focused. I genuinely love this work. My disposition is to work hard and to be focused; I've changed a lot. Elder Bednar teaches that there is no such thing as perfect balance in this life. He compares it to an acrobat spinning plates. As one plate slows, they tend to that plate. Then, they find the next plate is slowing. He teaches that where we are, we must be. Don't worry about what you are not doing, but tend to what you are doing, and prioritize that which is most important. My dad taught me that God, family, career, and church were the order in which a person should organize their life. With all my responsibilities over the Zone, three wards, and tending to myself, I have learned to be ever-present, as I AM can mean, and to relax and be happy. How joyful it is to learn this lesson, one I would otherwise have never known. It will carry with me and enable me through the rest of my life.
I had a great day today. I spent the day in Yuma, Colorado, a small town two hours east of Greeley. I had a great exchange review with a missionary in which I expressed to him my assessment of what I believed he was struggling with and he said it was spot on. We talked about it. The only way I could have known is if it was what I had gone through and struggled with myself —and still do. I spent the day admiring the strange wonders that scatter the various corners and cracks of this peculiar town. My companion looked very strangely at me as I put my phone up to the glass of a sketchy Asian cuisine fish tank, the bottom of a poorly painted door, a beat up mailbox, a rock outside the church, a mask sign, a wrench on a barbecue, or a sunset on a drive. However, these objects, when framed, can be made magnificent. One simply must organize them. He even said, "you have an insanely creative mind." I appreciated that. Anyway, I think I've still been struggling with depression. Not horrible, but I'm in my head a little. Today, I felt pretty down on myself. In leadership meeting, I made a few zany comments and got a few laughs. I really was just expressing my thoughts, but there came a point, as always, that I felt a disconnect between how I felt and how people perceived my words -- and that is such a lonely and hopeless feeling. As I had my hands in my head, I could tell, as Pops Staples says, "somebody was a watchin’." President Palmer gave a wonderful Zone Conference training. But first...I'm going to rewind to yesterday. We are rolling out "T3AM," which is an effort to create high-quality videos of converts and get every missionary companionship to get three families in their ward to share it. I've interviewed Truk, Tom, and now get to interview Elder Cibart. In an effort to get a clean background, I put Elder Cibart’s chair on a table, which required me to put the tripods on a table, which then required me to sit on a table so he wasn’t looking down. It was quite the Jerry-rigged production. The lighting was really nice; I can get behind those muted church windows. Over the course of the interview, we were predictably skimming stories and events in his life or just talking about his coming to know very simple doctrine. Both were good, but it lacked him—it lacked his emotion. As I sat there, this idea had been stewing in my mind. There was a reconciliation of opposites. One being Elder Cibart's conviction for the gospel and two, his family not joining the church with him. As he learns more, I wondered if it deeply saddens him to experience this joy without them. I waited. Then, there was a pause. Everything felt right and I did not hesitate. I asked, "how do you reconcile the doctrine of eternal families with your family not joining the gospel?" It came out with such fluidity. His answer was powerful and full of sincerity. Along with some other beautiful words, his answer went something like "I trust in God. I know if I do my part, God will take care of the rest. And I have seen my family change and grow closer together since I've joined the church. I've seen my mom change. I know that God will take care of them as I do my part." He then said, "it's so important to share the gospel; it’s vital. We can't just sit stagnant on this good news!" The room flooded with the spirit. He closed, "When I found the gospel, it was as if I went from seeing black and white to color." His interview changed me. Now, back to Zone Conference. Elder Cibart stands. He says, "yesterday, Elder Whiteley asked me a poignant question in an interview. I'm sure a lot of you also struggle with this, so that's why I'll share it. He asked me how I teach about families while my family are not members of this church. I didn't know I knew the answer. The answer that came out of me reassured me. It helped me sleep more at peace knowing that those souls I hold close are going to be alright." I then stood. I thanked Elder Cibart for his words. I told of how I used to hate missionaries. I despised the aesthetic. But as I grew and served with them, I learned to love them. I told how I saw the Lord work through me to bless others and that I learned that God works through the people He's chosen to be around us, even though they may be imperfect. I then stated how much I've come to love these people. I closed saying, "if you want to know an artist, look at their art. If you want to know a photographer, look at their photos. If you want to know God, look at His children." President Palmer got up and said, "thank you all for your testimonies. He talked for a little and then said, "isn’t Elder Whiteley wonderful? He sure is unique and strange, but that's the beauty of life. He has some amazing qualities." That meant so much to me. It calmed a sea of doubt. Diversity beautifies the culture. While taking photos at the temple and lining up the shot, President took the brief moment when I handed him his phone back to say, "you're a good man, Elder Whiteley. Really. You know that?" I said "thank you, that means a lot." As I contemplated that statement, I realized I had ignored the question. Do I know that? Later, I sat down for personal study amidst some lingering anxieties. Having a lot of anxiety about certain expectations, I shifted my focus to something I could do: the plan I'd set to read Joseph Smith History. Joseph describes unwarranted persecution much like mental health challenges...ever-persistent and often merciless. He describes how these challenges came to him from the outset, being only "an obscure boy." As I jumped from footnote to footnote, stories of David and the Philistine, Paul testifying before King Aggripa, Nephi killing Laban, and many others, I saw the hand of the Lord work. It gave me peace and hope. God works through our trials. He is our Father. Redeemer means that which brings redemption to our trials, replacing sorrow for joy. Hold out faithful and fear not, for God is with us.
As you probably know, I am exhausted. I have a burning desire to write, but I am just exhausted. I promise I'll catch up. I'll give this one highlight. Texting President Palmer about a few things, he ended the exchange with, "by the way, I love the Elder Two Potato post!" That made me really happy. You can tell me you love me, but nothing says I love you like taking the time to view and appreciate my work. I never feel more understood than when someone says, "I feel this photo...I know exactly how this feels." They have that spark in their eye, that excitement that says, "I am understood!" One of the best compliments I've ever been given is from Neil Montesano. Looking through my senior year photography project book from the Philippines, amidst a bustling crowd, he took me aside and said, "this is exactly how it felt for me to grow up in these style of neighborhoods. It just says it all." Of course, I have a long way to go as a photographer, but I felt so complete that day. I was able to interview Tom today. Using three tables, two folding chairs, a primary chair, two tripods, three phones, a muted window, and a white wall, the shot looked great. Though the other elders were poking fun at my specificity, they ended up being very complimentary of the look at the end. It looked really good. After he finished, I invited the few of those who were there to share how they felt during his testimony. The response by both parties was fantastic and a feeling of unity and love was present. Though I didn't need to talk during the shoot, I felt I directed the room. I was not dominating, I was directing. I was directing a feeling, and capturing it. Recently, I've been really down on myself. I go in cycles. My dad was talking to me about his struggles being away from the family for work and it struck me how, like me, he also has to deal with administrative duties, staying focused, helping people motivate and do all the little things over a seriously long amount of time away from home. I brought this up to him and he said the mission is still the most temporally difficult thing he has done in his life. He also told me a story of how he carried his white handbook with him every single day of his mission except one. Some elders were sleeping over at their place in preparation for Henry B. Eyring to come and speak at the mission. Those elders poked fun at my dad for being overly obedient and too much of a stickler, pointing out the carrying of his handbook. To avoid heckling, the next day he decided to not bring it. In the meeting, Elder Eyring called him out saying, "Elder Whiteley?" He stood. "Do you have your handbook on you?" He said no. Elder Eyring, caught off guard (prior to the meeting the mission president had probably informed Elder Eyring that Elder Whiteley never forgot to bring his handbook) then said, "well, if you did have it, what would this section say about this?" Today, I went on exchanges with another missionary. He is a nice kid and really seeks camaraderie. I was fairly indifferent during the exchange. I don't know why. He's nice, but I was tired, and sometimes I'm less inclined to make the effort. However, during exchange review, I felt a switch flip I hadn't felt flip in awhile. The prompting was subtle, and I almost missed it. I wasn't as in tune because I wasn't focusing on it as I should have earlier. However, now that I was listening, I heard, and acted. I asked a question about what he was struggling with. I sat and waited. I was silent at the right times, I spoke at the right time with words of comfort and direction, and I felt guided by the spirit. He began crying and he said he really needed it. I was glad to help unlock a little emotional knot. Often, the reservoir of our divinity is dammed by our unwillingness to love ourselves. To quote the Beastie Boys, "let it flow - let yourself go." During General Conference, President Nelson talked a lot about faith. "Increased faith" would be the answer to any challenge we face. The word faith has always been pretty meaningless to me, but one of the invitations President Nelson gave was to study what miracles were. I read his talk, then I pulled up the footnotes. I studied every reference looking for the connection between faith and miracles. In every reference, three elements were mentioned: belief, action, and then a miracle. In this order, we see how to increase faith. Believe, take action, and one will see miracles. Just in the short time I've been studying faith and miracles, I've seen my mind opened and my appreciation for faith grow beyond what I knew was possible—or necessary. Today, we were worried that a person we have been teaching for a while was not going to accept the invitation to follow the Word of Wisdom even though he was so close. We sat down with him, and in the conversation, he mentioned how much he loved D&C 89, a chapter he previously hated. I was reluctant to give it to him because of his previous indignation towards this section. He told us, "the spirit hit me so hard reading this section." He told us he was going to follow the Word of Wisdom and had a set plan. Seeing our surprise, he said, "You do have a positive influence. Sometimes we wonder if we have an impact on the world. Throughout these many visits, I have been changed! I've had so much fun! Doing my homework and then coming here and expanding our views on these scriptures has been amazing." "You have a positive impact. You do. Even if you do not realize it, the people you serve do. Everything you do leaves traces of goodness."
It's difficult to describe the type of exhaustion I feel right now. I simply have not stopped in so long. It's been especially busy these past few days and it has not yet ceased. Transfers, Zone Meeting, Weekly Planning, and General Conference interspersed with proselyting and striving to help the people we are teaching progress and prepare for Conference -- all while attempting to iron out logistical snafus. All along the way, I've been experiencing extreme growth spiritually and mentally as I've been racing a fairly difficult part of this course called my mission. I was still in high school when my friend Kimo came home from his mission and gave a devotional in our seminary class. He said, "it feels like it was forever ago...almost like it never happened." I was like, "you got back three days ago!! You know how long two years is??" Today was a really good day. Elder Edwards told me today that he has yet to have a bad day this transfer. He told me he's really enjoyed it. The snow fell hard these past few days. Yesterday it dumped two feet of snow and we shoveled a lot. As we did, we talked to people, offering help. Out of the four people we shoveled, we got three return appointments and gave Books of Mormon to the other. It was really fun. It was good to be out in sunglasses and a t shirt in the sun and snow. I am so thankful to have my new birthday sunglasses from mom. It feels so much better. Other than that, these weeks are flying by. I hit P-days like driving blocks and months pass like miles. The farther I go, the faster it blows by. Though each step may feel similar, the entirety of it feels as it were but a dream. President Palmer called last week and told Elder Edwards he would be moving him to Douglas. He told him he was going there to work hard and influence those missionaries, and that he would see great fruits from so doing. He then told me, "Elder Whiteley, you're going to be staying in Greeley. Your comp is going to be Elder Ramos." I was shocked. I asked, "President...are you lying?!" He assured me otherwise. He told me he wasn't exactly sure the specifics of why he thinks we should be there, but it was for a purpose. Elder Ramos has brought an electric and new side to life here. He thinks about the gospel in a very open-minded way, willing to leave loose ends loose when sufficient answers must be reached by stretching or assumption. He is also from San Diego and shares my love for that place and the culture that shaped parts of our understanding and tuned our proclivities. We consistently discuss speculative doctrine, however, it is clear that we both have a burning desire to not "look beyond the mark." After transfer doc came out, everyone I talked to mentioned how crazy it was that we were to be companions. The entire mission seemed to be watching us. Because we get along so well, a potential problem I foresee in our companionship is losing the skills we have learned on our mission to use inclusive vocabulary and reach out to others to really understand them -- even those with whom we may not agree or be on the same wavelength. Recently Elder Edwards and I went out to Fort Morgan and I was able to go on exchanges with Elder Dickinson! Elder Dickinson was my Zone Leader in Longmont while I was really struggling out there. After a good day, we sat down and he told me that he saw me in Nebraska at Zone Conference and he could tell something was different. Then, when I came down to Greeley, he said he was amazed at how I'd changed. He said, "you didn’t need to say anything or do anything, I could see in your countenance the difference. You balanced those things in your life and centered them on that Christlike target we're all aiming for." That meant so much to me. Remembering that time in my mission when I was struggling so deeply, I felt a deep sense of gratitude for the reminder of this truth I am so quick to forget: God works through me, even through my weakness. I often act like Enoch, who cried to God, "Why is it that I have found favor in thy sight, and am but a lad, and all the people hate me; for I am slow of speech; wherefore am I thy servant?" God responded, telling Enoch, "Go forth and do as I have commanded thee, and no man shall pierce thee. Open thy mouth, and it shall be filled, and I will give thee utterance, for all flesh is in my hands, and I will do as seemeth me good." Going forth is one of my favorite principles. In Longmont I was at a real low point in my mission. Quarantine and tons of reassigned missionaries had everyone scrambling. Though I failed to see it, I was struggling some of the most in my mission with simple disobedience. What no one saw was the medication I was taking for the first time, how it ruined my appetite and I didn't eat consistently, and how I was losing my mind in that apartment in Fredrick. I was loved by my leaders, Elder Dickinson and Elder Mestre, even though, on paper, I did not feel like I deserved it. At a district council yesterday, someone from my Longmont district gave a training. I was sure she saw a lot of my shortcomings in Longmont. However, during her training (which was prepared without the knowledge that I would be there), she said, "always ask people...why? Actually, that's something you taught me in Longmont, Elder Whiteley." Though she probably forgot she even said it, that struck me so deeply. I made an impact on someone. Someone saw how I struggled and still saw the good. Not only did they see it, but it actually moved them. I cared about helping that district so much. A few weeks ago, we asked a pair of elders how we could better minister to a struggling missionary in our area. They asked, "do you love him?" I said, "no, not really. I like him, but I don't know if I love him." Since then, I've been working on that love; noticing the feelings that may be there instead of that love and how I can change. As I strive to see people in a new light, I've seen them more for their potential and less for their shortcomings. I had a comp study with him later where I learned about his anxiety and self-consciousness and the intensity of the difficulty he faced. It was moving. I had fun and laughed with him too. After that, I realized how my failing to see the divine in someone is a sign of a warped lens. We can all be shaped to be better and see each other more clearly. No one is ordinary.
There are no surface level problems. Always ask why. Ask what, change behavior. Ask why, change hearts. Today was a good day. Forecasts have been saying that we are supposed to get three feet of snow. When we awoke in the morning to find hardly even rain drizzling, we laughed. However, the weather wasn't finished. Thick snow flakes began to fall at 11 and they haven't stopped. They won't stop until monday morning. I had to dig through a few suitcases to pull out my well-worn winter boots. They saw their glory days in Casper; I wore them almost every day. This may be my last big snow storm before I come home. Home has been on my mind a little bit as well. I have a tiny excitement within that is magnified when I think about home. However, the other part of me realizes I will miss this so much. I have structure, I know what I'm doing and feel confident, I have a routine every six weeks, every week, and every day. Time is no longer measured in months but by transfers. "NP, PWI, CC, @S, OD, B/C, DC, ZoCo, DL, ZL, STL," and many other abbreviations will mean nothing. The jokes about obscure old testament stories and church history won't kill a crowd. I won't have a singular purpose in mind. I'll have to deal with social situations and rediscover my role as a disciple in regular life. I will have the insecurities of dating, jobs, and friends. Here, I don't pick my friends, my responsibilities, my car, my house, my city, my downtime, my roommate, my coworkers, my clothes, or where I shop. I know these places, I know what to do. I've experienced this place and call it home. I saw a quote from Dr. Seuss that read, "sometimes you don't know the value of a moment until it's a memory." In part, I feel I am living a memory. Today was Zone Conference and I conducted. I made a few mistakes and was boisterous at times, but I corrected myself and didn't beat myself up. The best part, however, was that I saw Elder Lyman -- a missionary I knew in Casper. He has high-functioning autism and is incredibly kind. He is so enthusiastic and positive. He also has this amazing talent of memorizing birthdays. You tell him your birthday once and he can remember it forever. He went through the two zones today and named every single person's birthday without error. He can also play the piano incredibly. When I say incredibly, I mean it. There are people who play the instrument, and there are people who live through it—it's an extension of who they are. He is one of those special cases. He, without practice, combined and added onto Come Thou Fount, How Great Thou Art, and He Calls. Then, to finish off, he played a song he wrote on the spot a few days earlier. A comp of his asked him what he'd play if the Savior walked in the room. It was beautiful. I pulled him aside to ask if I could record him playing a few songs. I recorded a song he made for Elder Conrad and another for Elder Delgado. I then asked him if he could play a spiced-up version of How Great Thou Art. He killed it. Chord progressions, key changes, transitions, melodies, and a feeling of electric emotion. He'd get off the piano after a fun song and be so pumped up and giving us high fives. After a somber song, he'd be soberly exhilarated. While playing, however, he wasn't any of those things. All of his emotion—everything—was in that piano. I only had time for one more song (or so I thought), and I was tempted to ask him what song he thought of when he thought of me. Instead, I thought a more meaningful question was what song he'd play for himself. I asked him and he said, "that's a good one." He thought for a few moments. Then, without sign or warning, began to play. It was incredible to watch. It's one of the most interesting, powerful, and divine moments of my mission. It was a pure expression of love and happiness. With time, I asked if he had a song he could play for me. He told me, typically he had to think, but he already had thought of one for me. He said, "it may sound a little weird, but it really reminds me of your personality." I laughed. He repeated himself, a little nervous. I said, "I'm so excited to see what you have for me." Comforted, he turned and played a beautiful piece. I felt it. I felt his gift. I was thankful. As a photographer or filmmaker, we see the world, these stories, and these people, and we organize it. Angles, editing, and shooting simply organize unorganized matter. That helps me be happy. God's purpose is to take our unorganized, natural selves, and organize it. There is no creation, but organization. I remember walking away from my graduation. I had my graduation hat on with my racing flats tied to the top. I remembered looking around, standing at the far end of the 3,2,1 field, looking at the many faces of people walking to their cars. This was no winter or summer break; they weren't coming back. I would never be in the same room as all of these people again. Every day for four years I always left, and then came back to see familiar faces. Then, on a day like any other, it just stopped. I remember that feeling. Point Loma was my world, those four years were my forever. The mission is my world, these two years are my forever. We forget that this is a season of testing. It may feel like our forever, but there is a next step. There is a leaving behind something good for something better. I desire to use each part of this forever to the fullest. That is my nature and desire. I have a call from within the deepest part of my soul -- from the part of the foundation that carries much of my reasoning and beliefs -- that draws me to experience and fall in love with the world I'm given, the people I'm gifted, and the opportunities of this forever I have been placed in. One day, I'll get into the transfer van, the Colorado State bus will drive away, and I'll be left driving with the APs to the mission office. I'll walk to a terminal alone—no companion—and have time to sit and think about what I did and who I am. It will be this revealing transition period. An expert of one world, a newborn to the next. I will be exiting the woods, thinking about how I've changed, and whether it was worth it. Did I do my best while in the woods? One year ago tomorrow we received the instruction to buy a two- week food supply as the COVID scare began. I was spending my last few days with Elder Laudie. I still had seventeen months left. I had yet to leave the city of Casper or my companion for more than 24 hours. I've had twelve companions, six emergency transfers, eight wards, three areas, and a lot of learning experiences since. It will be my birthday tomorrow. Kinda strange. This is my very last day being a teenager.
It's Scout's birthday today. I remember imagining Scout turning 18 by the time I returned from my mission and it seemed an unfathomably long time. Pretty crazy. We went to Cheba Hut yesterday, which is a weed-based sandwich shop. I was so excited because they had Bob's Burgers playing! We sat and ate our sandwiches as I died laughing reading the subtitles. To quote Elder Stubblefield, in this "famine of fun," we are all so desperate. Elder Prescott departed to Riverton and Elder Edwards joined me as my new companion. He’s fun, laughs a lot, and we have a good time. His birthday was yesterday. He received a Target package from his mom, which he presumed was a birthday present. We woke up in the morning, and he said, "hey, should we open the gifts?" I sat watching as he cut open the packages with a butcher knife. He opened it up and pulled out dryer sheets. "Aw," I thought, "that was thoughtful his mom threw something useful in with his gifts." Then, he pulled out laundry detergent, toothpaste, and other household items. I could see in his face the confused disappointment. He reassured me that there was more coming. We then just busted out laughing. He actually does have gifts coming -- his mom had no intention of this package being a gift. This week I also shared some funny moments with Elder English. He has a very monotone voice, but is wildly intelligent and very funny. He said, "I took a communications class. I got a 90% because 10% was based on enthusiasm." I about died. I'm enjoying myself. As I continue to be more and more obedient to certain principles, I see so many blessings. The new short-format lessons we are teaching are just as effective and meaningful as the long ones—if not more. They want us back, they trust us. The urgency is real; we have work to do. It feels good. I feel happier. A promise Elder Wong made in a recent talk has held true for me lately. As I've studied the Book of Mormon every day for thirty minutes, my entire view of the gospel has changed. Though I did not notice it at first, it completely changed. I completely changed. Spending so much consistent time in scripture allowed for me to grow, guided by a loving Father in Heaven. He has given the tools for us to see miracles -- we just have to use them. I recently visited a missionary who has been really struggling with his companion. After a training meeting, he walked up to me and I asked if they'd be willing to do a guided companion inventory. Both a little surprised, they masked a smile and agreed. The conversation was SO good. They both talked about their perspectives, their desires, and their vision for the companionship. It was evident they both were living in different realities and were not willing to confront eachother. I've learned that confrontation is not the same as contention—a critical confusion to make. We must realize that differences are necessary even though differences can cause confrontation. We must have confrontation so we can assess, strategize, and succeed together. On my mission, at first I thought I knew what I was doing. Then, I realized I didn’t. When I began to figure it out, I shared it! Then, I came to the point that I knew that trusting others to wrestle with their problems and reaching out to them when called upon is trusting God. Thus, I didn’t need to share. I didn't need to speak. By listening, I realized how much I still had to learn. I've also learned that we must balance broad principles with practical advice. If we only talk about one and not the other, we come off as vague and unconvincing or like a jail warden. Meeting with these two, I was able to show high love and high expectation, I was able to not speak, I was able to give good, practical, principle-based advice effectively, and I was able to make people laugh. How far I've come.
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