So, we arrived at the Poplar building with an hour to spare so we could set up and greet people. Before we left, I pulled out the white pants hanging in the far back of my closet. I then looked through my ties to find the white tie, the only one I have never worn. I rolled these and an extra white shirt up. I went to retrieve my towel. I had noticed it was a little damp this morning, so I thought I'd dry it off before the baptism. Just as I began to wonder where it was, I heard the dryer stop and Elder Laudie came up and handed me a nice, warm towel. With that thoughtful gesture, I rolled my whites into the towel and fit them in my bag. We arrived at the Poplar building and began walking down the hall. The noise of the faucet’s water grew louder and louder till we met in the room where the baptism was to take place. Someone played primary hymns -- accompanied by the sound of the font filling. My mind was anxious, but my heart was feeling the weight of this moment. Not for my life, but for the life of this family. After about a half hour, they arrived. The mom was smiling and happy to see us; the dad, reserved but happy; the brother rushed in on his Heelies; and K., happily reserved. The smile on my face talking to them and feeling of such a strong spirit reminded me of the question, "how did I get here?" A month and a half ago, I didn't know who these people were. This morning, I feel the light of happiness and am able to do so among people I would lay my life down for. I started hanging my suit up on the hooks and getting my whites on. As I started tying the white tie for the first time, looking at pants I never thought I'd wear, I teared up a little bit, and the question, "how did I get here?" persisted. My heart swelled as I thought about how the Lord has protected me with the shadow of His hand as challenges, both self-imposed and situational, have been overcome. As I finished tying the knot David O. McKay taught Grandpa Kent, that Grandpa Kent taught Dad, and that Dad taught me, I felt a confirming spirit that what I was doing was good. This connection to God and family, garnished by the sweetness of the spirit, reminded me of the feelings I had while in the temple: a feeling of love, reaffirmation of the goodness of sacrifice, a closeness with God and your ancestors, and a clarity of your calling. I went out and sat down. The baptismal sevice began. I had sent the mom hymn recommendations and Elder Laudie sent her an outline of a talk, per her request. Luckily, she trashed both our ideas. She chose I'm trying to be like Jesus and When I am Baptized. Immediately, she was crying and her daughter called her out for it. It was really sweet. After the hymn finished, Elder Laudie gave the opening prayer and the mom got up to give her talk. As she did, she said she may not be able to get through it because she was barely able to get through the opening hymn. She began by saying to her daughter, "I don't know if you understand how much this day means to me." She went on saying that she was raised in the church but hasn't been going since she was 18. She said that, in the back of her mind, she always knew she would come back. She said her mother taught her well -- her mom even Facetime'd in for the baptism and connected to the TV. She said her mom had always given the taste of the fruit to her, and although she always put a little salt on it, she still knew of the sweetness. Beckoning to K., she said she was almost baptized five years ago, but because of poor life decisions they fell away. She said she always knew she would return to the church, but she thought it would be on her hands and knees, crawling, broken and alone. But now, she gets to come back with her family, happy with her own decision. It was such a powerful talk. Next, K. and I walked into the font. This font is old -- it maxes out at two and a half feet. Our ward mission leader thought that when we got in, we would raise the water, so it was only at about a foot and a half. Seeing that she is about 18 pounds and I'm like, 12, the water raised a half inch. I felt earlier that we should have done a dry run and shown her what was going to happen. I regret not doing so. I got her hands in the right position. I told her that I was going to lean her back and dunk her under the water. She then said "ok, now!" I was like wait...wait. I put my arm to the square and said the prayer. I dipped her down and fully submerged her under the water. She came back up and I looked up at the two witnesses. They gave me the thumbs up. We were about to exit the font when one of them came up and asked, "did you use your left hand instead of your right?" I thought about it for a second. I had indeed put my left hand to the square. We did it again, really with no thought that I had messed up. This time, her knee popped up. Ugh. We did it one more time and I held her under for a second, making sure her hair and knee were fully submerged, then brought her back up. Third time is a charm. I was actually pretty humored by it. Sometimes, I'll beat myself up about stuff like that, but really, I knew I had done a good job with good intentions. It was a wonderful service for the rest of it. Afterward, K. had a huge smile on her face. She said, "were you about to cry before you baptized me?" "Yea," I admitted. "Why? It was a meaningful moment!" It was great to see them all walk out beaming as a family. It remains one of my most favorite memories. Later that week, we went on exchanges and Elder De Remer gave me a blessing. The next morning I was noting how many negative thoughts I'd been thinking whenever Elder Laudie spoke. I felt immense guilt for the poor way I've treated him over the past few weeks, and an immense gratitude for his patience and goodness to me in my dark times. I was overwhelmed with my hypocrisy and hatred and thankful for this good companion. After the blessing, it seemed that my thoughts about Elder Laudie that were so negative were being replaced with joyful ones. Comments that used to bother me for a reason I could really not define became apparent and I was gifted power to change. I felt an immense relief as my ever critical personality was laid to waste, like scraping off barnacles from a boat. The voyage still is difficult, yet the drag of the barnacles has been removed from the hull. It is so odd. Something I don't know how to explain. A new power began to enter into my heart, one of a surety and peace. Not only that, but Elder Laudie and I had a wonderful day; one in which we spoke of our desire to stay together till he finishes his mission in six months, training together, and our enjoyment of our time together. He expressed that this was the best time in his mission. He wanted to ask President Palmer in interviews why we had been put together for so long, why he has told us in every interview that we are together for a reason. A line I studied this week says: "As you follow this counsel and strive to do righteous works, your love for all people will increase, especially those among whom you labor." I read this a few weeks ago when praying about being kinder to Elder Laudie. The line, "among whom you labor" stuck out to me. This time, "strive" stuck out. Every transfer, I am learning from Elder Laudie, something my humility is not developed enough to fully desire to admit. There are new testimonies born and old gifts forged because of our time together. Whether that is simply the area or the dynamic in our relationship, there is change that is happening that I could only see if Elder Laudie and I were companions for a long amount of time. I expressed this, in part, to Elder Laudie. He agreed and said he was learning stuff too.
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I had a good talk with my parents today. I was very happy to talk to them, almost eager in a way I haven't been before. They were at a breakfast place. I haven't gone out to eat breakfast in so long, haha! Not a lot of brunch spots that serve avocado toast out here. I had an amazing day! First off, I woke up and was thinking a lot about how long I've been here and how much I have left. It reminded me of the plane ride from LAX to SLC. Just as I was born in LA with my parents there to see my entrance, I said goodbye to them both in LA as what I will call my childhood came to a close. A strange sensation, like a dispensation ending and beginning. I sat on the crowded airplane, feeling unusually alone. For the first time since I moved to San Diego, I had a pretty steady plan for the next six years: go on a mission and go to college. Other than that, whatever else my life would entail was unknown to me. As I sat there, a half dozen, well-dressed, seemingly ancient looking twenty year-old men sat down. Their faces looked dumbfounded, almost in shock. I learned that, after two years, this was their first time on American soil. They were returning home from their missions in Australia. I remember, among the few who nodded their heads toward me, one must have seen the uneasiness in my face. He reached out and said, "hey, where are you serving?" "Fort Collins, Colorado." "Oh, cool. Well, hey, it goes by fast." The rest of the plane ride I watched Minions on a screen three rows ahead of me on the right. The reality hadn’t hit me, even after the plane touched the ground. No way could I go two years—TWO YEARS—without anything I knew or relied on. "It's the hardest thing you'll ever do." That phrase has been said time and time again. But that quote is incomplete. It doesn't properly express the joy of the hardship. Not knowing the immense joy I would receive, I moved forward, in what felt like a mist of darkness. No longer familiar with my surroundings, I took each step by faith. How do I even get to the MTC? What do I do with all of the emotion I am feeling? TWO YEARS! You know what I was doing two years before my mission? Neither do I, that's how long ago it felt! I woke up this morning feeling a little like the kid watching the men enter the plane: how am I going to do this? I hopped on the bike and my mind dwelled on the impossible task before me. Recognizing that I often feel this way in the morning, I took the next step. I just kept biking. How are you going to do the next five minutes on the bike? By doing the next pedal. 'While planning for the training meeting that day, I brought up a few quotes I thought would help, but Elder Laudie repeated his ideas and then found a strange way to incorporate my idea, "if possible." I thought it fit, and I knew how to explain why it fit, but I felt impressed to bow out and just support him in his idea. I did, and it went well. Thinking back, he was probably right, his idea worked. So, lesson learned; help others, don't just try to do what you think would be the best way. Elder Laudie asked if I had anything to add. The whole training was on teaching skills, so we went through scriptural examples of people teaching. At the end, I didn’t have much to say, however I felt I should speak. I said in essence, these are skills we learn, but the root of them is Christlike love. If we love people, we will naturally want them to enjoy the gospel, we will ask questions about them, and help resolve their concerns. If we are trying to be good and love others, sharing the gospel, and these skills, will become natural. We then had weekly planning. Weekly planning is 2-3 hours long in which we set goals, discuss our companionship, and do a small planning for all those we're working with. Elder Laudie does not like weekly planning. It is hard; it takes some serious thought. Not a week has gone by that he hasn't told me that he hates weekly planning. It's rough sometimes. Could be far worse. We started planning, but we got hung up on a few people. He then just was super tired and I didn’t know what to do. I was frustrated, both because I wasn’t out working and that this wasn’t being done efficiently. We weren't able to finish. Part of what also annoys me about planning is, on occasion, there will be a person and we don't know what to talk to them about. If there isn't a great idea, we'll just waste time sitting there thinking in silence. I've begun throwing out decent ideas if we can't think of anything just so we don't sit there without anything. I did that today. I don't know how happy he was with it, but we couldn't think of anything better. We went to our appointment and the halfway-decent lesson plan went well. The M.'s kids are wild and were going around biting all of us. Halfway through the lesson, the littlest was climbing on his dad's lap and all of the sudden the dad jolts and shoves off the little kid. He bit him right on "the pecker" as he called it. It did derail the lesson, but it was good to finally meet with them and we actually got the lesson back on track. Anyway, afterward, we headed to the church to weekly plan. There was a basketball game that the Elder's Quorum puts on that one of the people we are teaching was attending, so Elder Laudie put it in the schedule. Noting that was a low level of importance, and finishing weekly planning was probably more important, I asked if we could do weekly planning instead. He disagreed. Elder Laudie had challenged the person we are teaching, who is currently finishing up kicking vaping, to a game of one-on-one for his vape. He enjoyed telling his family on p day about the challenge and enjoyed telling everyone at district council. Someone asked me what I was going to do while this was going on. I don’t know, go to the other side and shoot free throws? I don’t know why I didn’t care so much. It may be in part due to the fact that I don’t like how much Elder Laudie enjoyed getting the attention that this bold statement got him. He really wanted to do this, and, like the training, I supposed I should support him. Last time they played, which was during exchanges, they had to play full court, which is against mission rules. I did not want to play full. First off, it's disobedient. Secondly, like Bishop Galvin said, I'm a different person playing basketball. Elder Laudie assured me, we were going to do something different this time. I didn’t want to fight him. We weekly planned for a little. Then people started showing up. Elder Laudie played the game of one-on-one. He won, but I don’t think anything happened. The guy said he was throwing away his vape anyway, and he didn’t bring it. We had eight people show up to play. After some discussion, I was under the impression we were playing half court. They started the game and it was full court. I looked at Elder Laudie; he shrugged his shoulders and mouthed “well?” Not wanting to ruin their game, I played. It was a short court, but still. At some point, I was dribbling and someone came up from my side. I dribbled up to another person. Elder Laudie came around back to steal the ball. He missed and came back and was playing some aggressive defense. I didn’t want to play like that. With him in my face getting up close, I used an old move... I bounced the ball off of Elder Laudie’s face, creating room, and shot it. I just laughed it off and jogged back. The last time we played he did the exact same thing -- running behind me -- and my running arm connected with his nose. Well, it worked; he didn't do that again and the game chilled. I didn't play hard defense. At first, I was a little, which was probably bad. I just stuffed Elder Laudie a few times. I stepped back and stopped on the whistle plays. Just passing and shooting, getting rebounds. Elder Laudie was not happy. I know it was bad. I'll admit it was not in good humor. He wouldn't talk to me. I could see he was brooding. It neared time to leave so I reminded Elder Laudie of the time so we could wrap things up. We eventually got back to our apartment and, at the first opportunity, before I stepped foot in the door, he said "always going for my nose, huh?" "Yea, I guess." I went into the other room to change. He followed me. He said, "yea, the guy in the black shirt asked me if we were allowed to compete like that. He thought you were mad." "Oh? I was just trying to lower the intensity." "I didn't think it was intense at all." "Like I said, I was just trying to lower the intensity." He was still brooding. I could tell, he was just thinking in his mind all of the arguments he could rip me apart with. "I guess man." I will apologize after he is done brushing his teeth and stuff. Hopefully it goes well. I know I should just be humble. In part, I'm not communicating properly. I probably should have said, "if it’s full court, I'm not playing" both in the morning planning and before we started playing. I should have bowed out and started doing some extra study. I probably shouldn't match the very intensity that I don’t like. If he is doing something I don’t like, don't just try to tear him down by doing the same thing. Just lead by example. Keep my cool. I thought about throwing it off his face; thought...you know, he probably will not be happy about that. But my annoyance with his intensity and not planning properly meant his feelings were less of a priority. I gave in. It was weakness. It also stems from not communicating. "Hey, I think this is a bad idea." "Hey, I'm not playing." "Hey, ease up, man, let's not play this intense." Instead, I just threw a basketball off a kid's face? Who am I? Have I grown up at all since El Dorado Hills Youth Basketball or San Diego 6th? Come on! Are you mad because of the intensity or because he got you in a tight offensive spot from good defense? Real questions. Ones I should have answered a long time ago. It's a work in progress. Like I told Elder DeRemer this week, let God work with you on your progression; don't take control. If this is my great stumbling block on the path to betterment, so be it. Let's figure it out. Apologize and realize you may be wrong. This person's perspective is not incorrect. In fact, it could be true. Let's list the facts and then act soberly: you've already ended up in the hospital twice after church ball, let's not make it a third. Takeaways: communicate, stand up for what you believe, be obedient, be humble, and be slow to anger. Uuuuuugh. Why are all the hard ones important? But, let's be real, are any of them easy? I need to learn to swallow pride and see the good; a lifelong process. Something I learned in my studies today was interesting. In 2 Nephi 2:24, it reads: Rebel no more against your brother, whose views have been glorious, and who hath kept the commandments from the time that we left Jerusalem; and who hath been an instrument in the hands of God, in bringing us forth into the land of promise; for were it not for him, we must have perished with hunger in the wilderness; nevertheless, ye sought to take away his life; yea, and he hath suffered much sorrow because of you. Nephi kept the commandments, was an instrument in God's hands, and helped his family, yet he was persecuted and had to suffer much sorrow. Sometimes, we imagine following the commandments as a task that will make you happy. However true, this does not excuse you from the difficulty of life. It only gives us the tools to overcome the adversity. Christ obeyed all the commands that His Father had for Him, yet was described as being full of grief. Right now, I'm looking at the mountain to climb that is my pride. One does this by praying sincerely, searching the scriptures diligently, and lovingly serving others. It is not easy, but the reward is far greater. Let's get after it.
I am sorry. I'll be better. It was kinda funny though. No, no, I need to change. Love you all. Let's all be better. It's ok to admit...it's hard. I've been texting back and forth with my mom while I shopped at Walmart. She sent me an excerpt that talked about wrestling and thinking and writing down your thoughts. The quote is from Francis Bacon, "Writing makes an exact man." I can see how that's been made true in my own life. I have many thoughts constantly swirling in my head. By writing, these fleeting thoughts solidify, and it forces me to articulate and to wrestle with what I am thinking. Well, today was a cool and strange day. First off, it was nice, sunny, and clear last night. This morning we woke to six to eight inches of snow with three foot snow drifts. Right outside our apartment was a foot and a half tall snow drift. I woke up and did a tempo on the bike. Looking out the window, I noticed it wasn’t pink and blue like it usually is by 7:15, so I opened the door to check the sky. Well, the sky left a present at our doorstep that extended all through Casper. The snow wasn’t horrible, but the wind picked it up and made something special out of it. Six months. My mission is a quarter way over. Wow, that was quick. I wore Miles' tie for my six month mark. As I sat in the pew this morning at church, all I wanted was to stay here in Casper; just one more transfer. Elder Laudie told me he wants to stay one more with me, at least. Elder Laudie was a little distracted today, being from Kansas City and the Chiefs playing in the Superbowl. Luckily, they won. As we lay in bed waiting for transfer doc to drop to tell us where and with whom we will live for the next six weeks, I contemplated trying to tell the L. family that we are going to have to reschedule Phó Wednesday and switch the baptismal arrangements; the A.'s that we'll find a different missionary to baptize S., S. that she will be ok without us, S.M. that he can make it to be baptized, J. that he will become a member after waiting all this time, and the whole ward that we will miss them. Not to say they need me—they don’t—but I feel so involved. Elder Laudie told me something interesting. He said, you know, for my dying wish (in your last month or two in the mission, people have what they call "dying wishes." They ask the mission President for one odd request before they leave.) He said, "if we get separated, my dying wish is to do my last two transfers in this ward with you." I thought that was a nice compliment. Discussing what may happen, he said, "we can't break up the dream team. That wouldn't work. I sure hope that I am prepared for what is next." He then said something super interesting, he said, "in our first two transfers, you did so much stuff that annoyed me." I said, "really? Like what?" "Man, I can't even remember. I guess that's a good thing." He thought for a moment. "Oh, for whatever reason, when you first got here, the way you ate bothered me so much. The way you held your fork, the way you shoveled it into your mouth I was like uuuhhhgg. But now, I don’t even think about it. I remember thinking of bringing it up in comp inventory, but I knew it was so stupid and I shouldn't." Kind of half-surprised, I said, "well, I'm glad it doesn’t bug you." He said, "yea, I remember our first two transfers I was like...get me away from this kid. Now, I don’t want to leave, I'd be so happy to stay." I thought that was nice. Also, kind of strange, but in an endearing way. I think that's why it’s important to be together for so long, you get past the surface level. I have loved being with Elder Laudie. I have had my own difficulties and annoyances, and I'm glad God gave me the time to choose to be better. It's funny, after our first two transfers, we saw the work just take off. It wasn’t till then that we really hit it off. Comp unity. I am praying to be prepared for tomorrow night when we find out what will happen this next transfer. I am praying and hoping I'll stay here with Elder Laudie, but I am attempting to prepare myself for God’s will. I trust those who are called. They will guide me to the right spot with the right person. Also, Elder Laudie draws. At the O.'s, I bragged for him about how good he was. I showed them the drawing he drew today and he showed a few more. It was cool to see him talk about it. Sister O. actually asked for a photo of the First Vision, and he just finished drawing it; it's super cool. Well, I'll let the morrow think for the things of itself. We've seen five transfers and a whole lot of great people. We keep telling them one of us is definitely going to leave this time, for sure. Well, apparently not yet...we pulled up to transfer day and were like, well, this is it....but NAW!!!!!!!! I love this place. I love these people. I love my companion. That's why I'm so happy to say I'm staying here in Casper 3rd ward with Elder Laudie for another six weeks. By the time the end of our fifth transfer together ends, we will have spent my first day in the field together, Elder Laudie’s year mark, Thanksgiving, Halloween, Christmas, New Year’s, my six-month mark, Elder Laudie’s 18-month mark, my birthday, and exactly two hundred days together. I'm halfway till the turnaround point of this long run. More than six months ago, I put on my suit and walked upstairs. There, Gus was chewing on a bone and Jen was sitting in the living room. My mom and dad walked out from their bedroom and we all went out to the car to drive to, in my mind, my funeral--or my "setting apart" to be a missionary. When you are set apart, you now obey mission rules, including rules about music. The policy for music is that it has to be centered on Christ with mild beats. So, none of my old music was allowed. That's ok. I have seen a lot of good from this sacrifice. At the time, however, I had not seen, nor did I know of, the good. I was witnessing my old life die. With my mom at the wheel, my dad in the front seat, Scout on my right and Jen on my left, we started driving and my mom played some new Chance the Rapper: Hot Shower. My dad eventually turned it down. Somber, I asked for one last song. I tear up a little thinking of it. "Could you play Don’t Let Me Down by the Beatles?" The most beautiful Beatles song of all time, in my opinion. The last Beatles song ever played. Their last performance, on a rooftop, unannounced -- they played their last song as a band. Seven years prior, no one knew who these four kids were. Now, as they played, people gathered to hear the most beautiful music to play from speakers. People jumped from the adjacent rooftops. I wanted this to be my last song. I was watching the death of the only life I ever knew. One filled with running, photography, family, and friends. All four were going to be gone from view. Oh how I wish I could see the distress and fear of the unknown in my eyes. If I could meet those eyes with the surety of mine now—knowing it was worth it, knowing the life that would come from the loss of an old one—I would overflow with gratitude. In those moments, I knew I could turn around and stop. But something deep inside, something different, a call from within, a call to trust God, stirred as I listened to Don’t Let Me Down and decided to take this risk and walk the path less traveled on. On my six month mark I can say that God takes care. He takes immense care. Many times, I wish I could turn on some music or go for a run. Many times I wish I could wrestle Gus and go take astro. Though those things make me happy, I feel something different in my soul testify of the good of what I am choosing to do. When I fall in love with those I teach and try to help, I quickly forget the warmth of a San Diego day. No thought crosses my mind of wanting to be back. Because I trusted God, because I took the risk, knowing He would strengthen me if I did His will, I am happy. This happiness, from answering His call for you no matter the difficulty, is what I so sincerely desire for those I love. Those I teach, my close friends from home, my family. God lives and works to supply us with what we need. We are not forgotten. 8 We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; 9 Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed... 2 Cor. As I sat there crying in the middle seat between Jen and Scout, unsure of what the future held, I held a confidence that God would take care of me. That confidence was small, but with what little I had, I gave my weaknesses, worries, and talents to the Lord. He has given me so much in return. If I could look into that kid’s eyes again I would tell him, with all honesty, that all things will work together for your good. Just show God you are willing to try every day. He will do the rest. One step at a time. Get up. Pray. Bike. Study. Eat. Serve. Teach. Help. Love. Sleep. Overwhelming, but just take one step. "Little bits," as mom says, and you'll be far beyond what you ever thought joy and love could mean; and you're just getting started. The end is near, and new beginnings far beyond anything your old life ever knew are on the horizon. Hold fast continually to that which is good; you'll be a living witness of God's love soon.
You know, turning out the lights and brushing my teeth, I realized that I need to relax about these entries. These do not need to be great. They don’t need to be well written or explained. They’re wonderful for their honesty. And if they aren't, who cares? This is far more a form of therapy than anything else. I should walk away from these entries less stressed than before. Typically, I do. Tonight, I guess I'm a little uptight; picking and choosing what to write and how to write it. Just relax and dump. Just relax and have fun. Everything will work out later. If this entry dies tomorrow, it has done a good deed for me. Like a sticky fly trap in a hurricane, I am just catching the ideas that flow constantly through my head and it gets them still enough I can handle them. I am better for this journal. I hope to get that through my skull. Also, laying here thinking about how I was disappointed in myself joking around too much in lessons and dinners and not finding the line between funny and disruptive, I prayed for humility. That's when I remembered that woman's comment about me. I have been praying for the ability to find that line of being me and being reverent, and being humble enough to change. I have felt myself find that line through a desire to help others and a new willingness to be more vulnerable. God looks after His children. He has taken every concern and helped me along my way, just for coming to him in sincere prayer. Some missionaries get through the work week to relax on P day; I get through P day to relax during the work week. It reminds of when I was a kid at big social gatherings. My parents always asked why I liked talking to the adults instead of kids my age. I never articulated why, however, now I believe it was because it was always a one-sided relationship. It's why I liked talking to teachers. None of them sought connection. There was no give and take. That was never a challenge. It takes honesty and vulnerability to connect with people. However, if I just stick to the adult table, I can fly under the radar or just talk to someone without any expectation of further interaction. It's the same with P days with the other missionaries. It's far easier to be out working as a missionary because it's one sided. I have no expectation of vulnerability because no relationship is really long lasting. I can be sincere and love and serve, but I don't need to worry about deep, long lasting, two-way relationships. They'll never check in with me about what I love and how I'm doing, so I can just tuck that away without subjection to criticism or disappointment. A bad habit, I know. Elder Laudie and I each gave a talk in church last week. While sitting on the stand waiting for my turn, I had a strange anxiety and I prayed it would leave. I then took three deep breaths, yoga style, like my Headspace app, and for just ten seconds, my head was silent. No thoughts were running through my mind. I was still. This hasn't happened since before my mission; maybe even since receiving my mission call. It felt nice, a reminder of the burden that will be lifted from my shoulders one day. We then went to the youth activity which was a Nerf War. Elder Laudie is really into Nerf—like, a lot. He brought his own mini gun thing to the war. It was like dodge ball—two teams on two sides with barriers and stuff. It was a good time. It was so fun. I love this ward with my heart and soul. Sitting up on the stand after giving my talk, I was reminded of my second Sunday in the mission. I looked out over the crowd before I gave my testimony. I knew no one. No faces familiar. It was new and strange. However, less than five months later I look over that crowd and think how heartbroken I'll be when I leave. I looked out and recognized so many, having a personal relationship with almost every person in the ward. That's pretty cool; something I didn't expect. My mind pondered on how my love had grown tremendously, almost incomprehensibly, since I first arrived. I remember being awkward and uncomfortable in people's homes; even angry or hurt because I was far more focused on what I had to give rather than what they had to share. As I forgot myself, dropped my pride, and prioritized the people around me, I have found great joy in the victories of the people I serve, and great sorrow in watching them stumble. I have a love for every person in the ward. It has been, possibly, the greatest blessing that has come from my mission. *Excerpt from letter to his dad: Dad, Even with critique, even with the trials, I hope you never lose the underlying factor of all good work: good desires. You have such unusually good desires. I have never worked with or lived with a person with such unconditional curiosity for others’ loves. One time I was taking this photo of some telephone lines and mountains in the background and Elder Laudie said, "if only you got rid of the telephone lines, added some mountains, put some trees there, and made the sky blue, this photo would be great." Some people just don’t see the beauty in the mundane. They see it elsewhere, but it hurts not having people with compassionate taste around. I don’t know why this story came to mind, except for the fact that the reason I freeze my hands off everyday isn't for Elder Laudie. It’s back to that good desire. Deep in my soul, I know this is my calling. You do too. Don’t forget it. That's why holding fast continually to what's true is so important. Let's not get distracted by the cowbells and screaming parents on the sidelines of the race, but focus on the deep drive that pushes you when the crowds fade and we enter no man's land. There is beauty there, whether or not the world recognizes it. I feel for you. If nothing else, you're blazing a trail for me to observe. Fulfilling deep, God-given desire is difficult, but worthwhile. I love you. I know and see your greatness and I think about you and your work daily. It's people like you that help us "remember, remember" Christ in the world.
Love, Henry |
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