I LOVE the people here. Everyone says hi with a huge smile and their accents are amazing. After telling us she was not interested, this sweet, young mother sitting on her white painted porch said, "blessings on your mission, boys," in the most sweet midwest accent imaginable. Over the past two days, I have experienced a lot of change; not necessarily drastic, but in areas in which I struggle. I feel sort of like when I left home; I loved it there, was comfortable there, but if I would have stayed in Colorado, I would have started to mildew in my lack of progress. People are much more focused here and I sense it in the, "hey, are you ready to be better?" kind of nudge from the spirit. The people here are SO nice. Not to say they're not nice in Longmont—they are—but here it’s a whole other story. I'm so used to cold responses that when someone smiles and actually engages with me, it throws me off—every time! They all will wave, smile, ask how you're doing; it’s incredible. It's just the small town vibe. We were walking by someone in the parking lot to whom we waved and said hi. She continued walking and we went another seventy or so meters till we made it to pick up our food (which someone from church offered to order us after just finding out we did not have a dinner). We waited outside, just a few minutes early, and a man in the store saw us, waved, and made his way out to come talk to us -- out of the A/C in the Nebraskan summer heat. Smiling, we talked about long distance running and the Mojave desert, of which he was familiar. While talking with him, the same lady we passed ten minutes earlier who had been walking in a different direction asked if she could approach. We said of course. With two water bottles in hand, she said, "oh, I just saw you guys walking around and thought, it's so hot, they must be thirsty, so here you go." She gave us the bottles and began walking away. Shocked, I barely had time to say thank you. Today, I sat eating lunch quietly. My companion had finished and was just chilling. My heart ached. Could I last another five weeks here? If the trend continues, I could be here another six or more months. No one is out here. This is no man's land. I feel like I'm running the High Tech High NTC race course. It starts out with a ton of cheers, it's super exciting because you just started! Then, as soon as it starts, you turn the corner at the USS Never Float and up and over the Nimitz Bridge into no-man's-land. Casper was my no-man's-land. Tested and tried for the first time for an extended period on my mission (though the MTC can move extremely slowly too), I learned to trust and try. I loved that first part of my mission. Just like in the race, it put me in a position and set an uncomfortable, but doable pace. I was right there. After being there for awhile, I finally got back to NTC and began hearing the roar of the crowd. I had good friends, slower work with quarantine, and I coasted a little, riding high on the cowbells and conversations. Now, I'm back in no-man's-land. Running over the gopher holes and grass clumps that speckle the top of the small drop-off into the bay--but this time it looks more like big sky and the bottom of large bluffs. Today, I worked hard. I was focused. No distractions. I buckled down, friended 200 or so members, contacted as many people as we could on the street, and taught a member lesson. We had a ward coordination meeting in which I basically told the ward mission leader what we needed. I know that doesn't sound like much, but the fact I have an idea of what needs to occur to see success in missionary work is profound. By small and simple things, right? With running, I grew daily. With photography, I grew daily. With film, I grew daily. In the gospel, I grow daily. In missionary work, I grow daily. Today was my weekly preparation day and I basically stayed in the apartment all day. Nothing happened. No big events, no mission drama; just shopping, calling family, and sleeping. There was actually a point were I had finished calling family and decided to catch up on sleep. Lying there awake, because I didn't run, I thought, oh, I want to listen to Jesus Is Born (the Kanye album with the Sunday Service choir). I thought of stuffing my phone in my hoodie and chilling on my bed. It felt oddly unnatural to have such a thought. I couldn't think of any productive reason to do it. I convinced myself to relax, and as I lay there listening to the album, and skipped some songs till I found one I really enjoyed, I realized it may have been the first minutes I'd spent doing something without a purpose since I left on my mission. Every P day, you try to cram in as much as you can, doing the most you can enjoy while you have the time. Then, it's all work after that. If you do take time for yourself, you feel guilty, like "I need to be out working." If I do need something then it's a necessity and I do it with the intention of getting back to work as quickly as possible. Before 9 am? Do everything as fast as possible to have the time to run the most miles. After 9 pm? Work out and get ready so you can write as much as possible then get to bed. This was maybe the first actually purposeless thing that I did; and I loved it. Then, I took a two hour nap. Haven't had a stress free P day like that in a long time. Also, I feel an odd weight has been lifted off my shoulders since arriving in Nebraska. My dad sent me this letter about one of his favorite albums. When I called him this week he played My Father's House and we listened to it together.
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Its 6:19 am and I'm on a bus, socially distanced, headed towards Nebraska. Yesterday was an amazing day. First off, we went on a really fun hike. It was just so good to be with the district. It has been a day of introspection and excitement. I have been feeling a wave of confirmation during this period of transition that I was sent to Longmont in that district for a reason; those reasons being to help others, to have them help me, and to learn discipline when I am the lead companion -- to name just a few. I have a lot to write about, but I just dont feel up to it. In part, it's because things are so happy and great. Like my first day with Elder Laudie, going out with a sunflower tucked underneath my bag strap the first time I went out as a missionary. Seeing them bloom this time of year brings me back to that memory, one that began a series of phenomenal memories. Those warm days in Casper didn’t last long, and soon, sunflowers became covered. Now, they are blooming again. As I drive, I see them wave to me, carrying with it the blessed memories of learning to live in Casper and the strong spirit I felt in that hot apartment on East 21st Street. They remind me how far I've made it. I never thought I'd make it this far. Today, I got a package from my family. It was supposed to be my year-mark package, but due to the condition of my shoes, my mom insisted I open it. She sent some of my old ties, which felt like such a relief. Finally, something new to wear. I also got new running shoes because I've run 500 miles in this pair -- something I couldn't have dreamed I would ever have the chance to do on the mission, especially when I was living through the Casper winter. I remember writing a poem in high school about my running shoes. It was about the moment when I would switch out an old pair for a new pair. I described it as the tread being lost somewhere between here and the hundreds of thousands of steps taken in Point Loma. I would always take photos of my shoes, comparing the old and the new. The old ones lacked any color, the body of the shoes ripping up from what glued them to the sole. The tread would be completely flattened at the ball of the foot. The logo on the tongue would be falling off. The new one was vibrant, the reflective stripes bright, and the grip detailed and deep. Though still true, I have another shoe moment to add. My brown dress shoes are worn. Lost somewhere between the hundreds of thousands of steps taken in Casper, the tread runs so thin I can feel the ground. The body of the shoe rips up from the glue. The back of the shoe is tearing down the heel. The toes have been worn down and are beginning to shred. I've used them well. The new shoes I was gifted are shiny and still have that polished brown look. Like my vibrant running shoes, they're ready to get destroyed. I received one of my favorite texts ever. Elder Laudie (who is home now from his mission) said, "The L's are down in Colorado and want to stop by and see you. What's the number for the area you are in right now? They want it." No way!!! They gave me a call and IMMEDIATELY I recognized their voices! They said they'd be there in a few hours. When they arrived it felt incredible to see them -- they drove an extra 45 minutes just to come and see me, it was incredibly kind of them. They were so excited to see me. They told stories about how all six of their kids were at their house this last weekend. I could not have been happier. When I left Casper, L. was praying so hard to unite her family, and the outcome sometimes seemed murky. Many tired nights I prayed for that, and it thrilled my heart to see her faith pay off. M. had a light about his aura that seemed to just shine! He seemed incredibly happy, far from the cold, quiet winter night we all met in Casper the first time. They are very active, having the missionaries over, helping with the Facebook page, doing Sacrament at home. It warmed my heart to hear how their children remind them to do Sacrament on Sundays and they are all doing well. Their other kiddos seem to just be drawing nearer to their family in miraculous ways. I think what warmed my heart the most was hearing L. say, "when we first started coming back, everything in our life just started aligning and falling our way—and it just hasn't stopped, it's just kept on going." They are making strides and being great examples. They told me they tell all the missionaries about how amazing our companionship was. She told me that she believes we were handpicked for her family at that time. What made me incredibly happy is knowing that they are not only enduring, but enjoying life. What joy I had to know they were feeling spiritually wonderful and aiming for the temple. Their eyes are set. Further, they got a new house and are doing quite well. I love them and was incredibly grateful for their sacrifice to stop by and see me. My new apartment is really nice and really big. There is a big field right next to it where I can run. My companion is extremely kind and good-hearted. He was reassigned from New Zealand, but he is originally from Idaho, south of Idaho Falls. He is a good kid; funny, with a great heart and hard- working. He has a great smile. I can't wait to work with him. I knew he was great when he understood my "I'm not crying" Flight of the Conchords reference! Once I arrived in Nebraska I asked the Zone Leaders, whom I stayed with for a few hours before my new companion arrived, for any information regarding the district. I got a feeling of excitement as they discussed some of the struggles. Discipline—specifically in time usage—has been a prime focus in this zone; this is something I have struggled with recently. Nothing horrid, just that I can see a lot of room for self-improvement. Now, practically outcast and not able to distract myself (which is literally what I told my mom and dad I hoped for after they asked me what my preferred next scenario would be, haha), I feel a special time is at hand. "Trust and try..." and my try right now is in Scottsbluff, Nebraska. I am being asked to handle a lot here. All of the missionaries have been in these outlying areas for four to six transfers—an insane amount of time, especially for the entire district. Their areas are becoming repetitive, their problems stale, and their fire dim. I am excited to approach them with charity. As I began thinking about each person, and as people tell me information or share a story about them, I began to understand, in small part, who they are. So it seems I am being asked to tackle more: in quantity, diverse personalities, and difficult circumstances. No longer do my old tactics work. No more dropping off fruit or calling someone on the phone. Those are good, beginner ways -- but now I'm being forced, like I was forced to use media differently during COVID, to learn to be more efficient and creative. I live in Nebraska now. Who knows what will happen next?
I'm approaching my year mark on my mission. This feels quite unusual. I'm actually almost exactly how "old" Elder Laudie was when he first got me. As I approach the turnaround point, my thoughts have been turned to this first half of my long run. Much like any run, those first two or three miles just slogged by. Though beautiful and transforming, they were slow. As my body acclimated and my spirit grew, that state where you don’t even hear your watch go off kind of set in. No longer were miles being counted or thought of. They came and went, and I just kept running without even noticing. So I'll take Ferris Beuller's advice, “life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it.” Well, I should begin with the Sunday before I left. It was late July of last year. Miles had gifted me a tie from Guatemala that I dedicated to using on special occasions. This was the first. I remember that Saturday, for the first time thinking about my mission as a solid thing. I watched the last breaths of my old life being taken—my last summer practice, my last Saturday long run, my last photoshoots, my last trip with Rachel—and I began to wonder, am I ready to lose everything? I began writing my farewell talk. At first, I couldn’t do it. All I could think about was that question. So that's what I began with, the question everyone asks: are you prepared to go on a mission? The answer was clear: no. Many reasons I had and many arguments I could give for the challenge ahead and all of my shortcomings. Though I shrugged it off with a yes to most, the daunting task seemed far more a race uphill with no finish line than anything else; tiring, restricting, and never ending. However, like all mornings in high school when I got up early and chose to run up Fenelon Street—it was always worth it. But even those mornings were going away. What now? This task seemed far beyond me, however, my thoughts did not dwell there. Rather, the spirit blessed me, subtly, for months, reminding me that I was not alone in this battle. This was not a race I ran with my own strength, rather, I ran in the strength of the Lord. I did not know why I'd been called, but I intended to find out. Moses felt this same feeling. Being called to lead the Jews, he is asked to do an incredibly difficult task, and this is his interaction with God recorded in Exodus 4:10-12: 10 And Moses said unto the Lord, O my Lord, I am not eloquent, neither heretofore, nor since thou hast spoken unto thy servant: but I am slow of speech, and of a slow tongue. 11 And the Lord said unto him, Who hath made man’s mouth? or who maketh the dumb, or deaf, or the seeing, or the blind? have not I the Lord? 12 Now therefore go, and I will be with thy mouth, and teach thee what thou shalt say. Essentially, God calls Moses on a mission. Moses responds saying, I'm not prepared to take on this task, look at all my shortcomings! God responds, trust and try, my son—I didn’t call you because you were perfect; I will be your strength. Get after it. I felt similarly when asked if I was prepared to go on a mission. I began my farewell talk writing, “Am I prepared to go on a mission? No.” But by the end, I write, “am I prepared to go on a mission? I don’t know, but I trust the Lord and intend to find out.” When I wrote it, I thought it was horrible, but since I hadn’t written anything else, I gave it as a test run to my parents. To my shock, my mom and dad both loved it. In the MTC, I lost physical and emotional stability. Entering in a cast with a newly broken arm, not being able to run as much or as well, and being wracked in nerves and changes, I felt hopeless. Many times I was reawakened to the power that comes from asking God, brokenhearted, for help and strength. In those moments, I felt a sense of peace; not because my trials were lifted, but my eye was single. I was no longer suffering for no reason, but I had an "effectual suffering," as it described in Mosiah. In the MTC, I lost my material things and my material hobbies. In Casper, I lost prioritizing my opinion, even sharing my opinion at all. I was forced to stop thinking about it, so I could let in the most love I could to fill my heart. I lost my ability to find joy in talking about film or art. No one cared about my photography or writing. I lost my ability to find joy in talking or even thinking about what I used to love or call home. And good luck talking about San Diego (California...) in Wyoming. At home, I had a degree of spiritual power. I followed the lower law: no other Gods before me. However, line upon line, and precept upon precept, I've been reborn into the higher law, the way of Christ. I was filled with His light as I opened myself to Him. I began not only to have no other Gods before Him, but to give everything I had to Him. When we are comfortable, we cease to move forward. "Comfort is a slow death." In an area call with the Zone Leaders, Elder Dickinson told me, "hey, if you leave here, don’t let anyone tell you you were a bad district leader—you were the exact district leader the people in Longmont needed and no one could have done it better. You fulfilled the reason you were called here, so thank you." This meant so much. I'm happy, despite my insane flaws and strange ways, I could be used for good. I have one more week, guaranteed, here in Longmont. I want to make it count.
One of my favorite quotes is from a talk called What Is Our Destination? by Marvin J. Ashton. Describing a wheelchair-bound missionary who had great success in continually improving, he checked back with him after his mission to discover he had kept that same spirit, and was full of joy because of it. Thus he said, "...this unusual example of a good man on the move." Unusual, good, and on the move; three words I strive to be. I have been far more focused recently. Every minute, the Lord seems to have blessed me to be thinking, "What more can I do?" My focus seems to have shifted from, "what would be fun?" to "what would be the best use of our time to help others?" We spend extra time walking outside and talking to everyone we can. During the Zone Meeting when I started to feel discouraged, then pumped, we got a text from Debbie, from whom we have heard little. Those types of things, those signs the Lord is in the work, are becoming more evident and more frequent. At Teriyaki Maddness, I saw this quote on the wall from Thomas Jefferson, "I find the harder I work the more luck I have." Today was one of the most rewarding and difficult days of my entire mission. I can feel my heart and soul being both torn and rebuilt at the same time—wonderfully painful. We played Spikeball with the Zone Leaders in the morning at their sand volleyball pit. I headed out with Elder Mestre. He is the sweetest guy. At first, he seems incredibly serious and introspective—which he is—but there is this big goofball underneath that's incredibly funny. He learned English in high school after moving from Venezuela with his family. He has taken special interest in me since we've been here, going out of his way to show me love and to honestly express how much he cares. I can see he is constantly looking at others and seeing what he can do to explain the outpouring of love that is consistently instilled in his spirit. After a few dropped service opportunities, we had a little bit of time that we used to clean the apartment. I will say, my mom would not have been proud of me this past month or two. Let's just say, when the housing coordinators came, they asked us to use the vacuum more often, which then spawned the question, "we have a vacuum?" We went and did comp study at a park. We walked around and it was really good. Elder Mestre is excellent at listening to the spirit. I can watch his face and eyes and I can see him looking into his heart, feeling and asking God where he should guide the conversation; it’s quite powerful. I had that feeling, to a much smaller degree, that I had at Elder DeRemer's exchange when the spirit said, talk about you. I didn't ignore it this time, even though it was subtle. I told him I wanted to grow, both in power and direction. I wanted to be able to pull the bow back farther and aim straighter, I wanted more power in my work and I wanted my work to be efficient. Elder Mestre said, joy carries us through everything. He went on to say that virtue is the why to righteousness. Joy does carry us through everything. We must be able to see it. As Louis J. Halle said, “To snatch the passing moment and examine it for signs of eternity is the noblest of occupations.” President Palmer said that there was a time for low expectations and high love during COVID, but now is the time to get back in it. As the East Mississippi Community College players say: "blood makes the grass grow." I want it. I felt the fire Muhammad Ali had, just to go out and work and love it. I left that meeting thinking, "oh, I got my swagger back." The sister missionaries wanted to make a music video for the Spanish Facebook page. I was just going to do some shots outside and have them singing, but then I remembered this music video for this song called River, if I remember correctly. The video is amazing, by the way -- just the two sisters singing in front of a black backdrop with interesting lighting. I decided to use it as inspiration. Previously, I had taken some cool slow mo of Sister Ioano playing the piano that I thought I could splice in. So, I decided to attempt to create a makeshift lighting studio. First step, lights. We scavenged a couple missionary apartments for lamps, and retrieved four. We took them to the church and looked for a dark room to do it in. At first, we did it behind a chalkboard, but then we found a black curtain on the stage that was too perfect. We set up the lamps and it actually looked amazing. Once Hermana Bauman got there, I had to adjust to her face and height, but after adding two white cloth napkins and an American flag, the lighting was just soft enough. Unfortunately, phones don’t do too hot in dim lighting, so it's kind of grainy and has too warm a tint to it, but it's not bad for a bunch of lamps and a phone. With two church tables, four lamps, an American flag, two napkins and four music stands, we shot this pretty cool music video. In late May, when I was about to meet my current companion, Elder Hoggan, I knew we were being assigned new companions and I was anxious about it. Earlier that day, I prayed for love. I felt a pull that I should pray for more love. Immediately getting up, I thought, this must mean my next companion will be difficult to love. I was one minute late to our meeting, and I dramatically ran into the room to the back row, where the trainers sit. Someone in the front row, one of the new missionaries, turned and asked jokingly, "are you ok?" I didn’t love his delivery, so I said back, "I'm going to be your new companion." He laughed and turned around. We sat as each name was called. I was so nervous because I knew how well Elder Morgan and I got along and I did not want it to end. But this timing felt right. I stood as my name was called, and, as life does, played the joke back on me. "Elder Whiteley," President Palmer said, "your companion will be Elder Hoggan." The kid in front of me stood up, semi-shocked that the kid who looked cracked-out, sprinting in late, had in fact told him correctly who his companion would be. I stood and said, "I have the spirit of prophecy!" People laughed, and President added, "yes, he does, and this is the first time it’s presented itself." My initial thoughts about my companion weren't thrilling. I was judgmental and thought "I'll just miserably make it through the next three weeks." Further, I knew that I was wrong. That was the morally weak choice, a sign of weakness. I am weak. Both degrading myself and the quality of this next companion, I approached President Palmer after the meeting. I apologized for being late and, without prompting, he looked me in the eye, smiled, and said, "you are a good man. That's why I've asked you to do training twice." I was filled with happiness—more specifically a confidence in myself to make the right choice and change. Because President Palmer spoke with such spiritual power, he touched me and changed my perspective. Remove men from their mistakes, he showed me, and you'll see them as I do. On the first day with Elder Hoggan, it did not go well. I did not want to reach out, I did not want to ask questions. I didn’t want to change my heart. I was stoney. I just let him quietly sit there as we drove around. Previously, the Zone Leaders asked me if I could help them in redoing the Weekly Word video, a live stream for Northern Colorado that plays on Sunday at 7:00. Our zone was in charge of it, however, due to some hiccups, they asked me to come in and see what I could do with only two days' notice. We went to a lake with a dozen missionaries or so and I interviewed each one, having them keep their testimonies to about a minute and a half. On the drive up, Elder Hoggan and I barely said a word. Talking to Sister Gibbson later, she asked how I was doing and I told her it was rough. She said I seemed stressed. Contemplating this, I realized this stress had nothing to do with my companion, but where my heart was. Misery is a choice, and I can choose to make this transfer a drag, or love this comp so much I'll be heartbroken to leave. After having an absolute blast interviewing and filming, we drove back. I knelt and prayed that night, asking to be filled with love. I wanted to love this companion. Correction, I desired to want to love this companion. The Lord blessed my heart. This companion is one of my favorite people in this entire mission. We had a comp study in which I told him that I'm always here for him and if he has any questions or concerns, to openly communicate with me and be honest because I am always here for him. He told me he was diagnosed with some anxiety issues on his mission. I told him I had anxiety issues too. He seemed pleasantly surprised. We had a long conversation about it in the car one day, just laughing and sharing our experiences in first discovering we have it and how we felt all along the way. Elder Hoggan is just a comedian, cracking jokes and dancing like nothing. He is incredible. At one point, he cracked this joke in zone meeting yesterday and someone leaned over and said, "that's why you two get along so well." I truly love this kid. I can't believe I was so mean with him the first few days. In a poem Elder Hoggan just finished ten minutes ago labeled "Nobody," it reads, Nice to meet you, I am nobody. Not an outdoorsman or a homebody. I don't like staying clean or getting dirty. I just hope I am not too inconveniencing. Everyone comes along saying "love yourself", How do I do that when I don't have a self? I feel like food storage on the bottom shelf: Forgotten, probably for your better health. What are you doing, what is this feeling? Why have you sent my mind reeling? Why am i standing on the ceiling? Stormy seas, topsy turvy, all up heaving. Is this warmth, is this love? Does this come from up above? I feel complete, like a hand found a glove. I see now how someone could covet It's exciting that there's room for me. Now I can't wait to see. The kind of person I hope to be. Maybe I can help others feel free. I also had a few minutes to write this parody to A$AP Rocky's Praise the Lord today while Elder Hoggan did language study. As A$AP says, "Give thanks, get fresh; Praise the Lord then finesse, bless." I'm thankful, striving to be creative and to work hard, and I've seen blessings. A$AP and Jefferson saw something in hard work I've been able to relearn: the Lord loves effort, and I'm striving to be better at giving it. Consistent dedication to self-betterment is exact obedience. And as Ezra Taft Benson said, "when obedience ceases to be an irritant and becomes our quest, in that moment God will endow us with power." |
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