I love missionary work like I like being alive. I love it, but the process of becoming better is uncomfortable, which isn't necessarily a negative. I received the cutest picture of Gus knocked out on his bed. That was basically me today. Not only did we have three separate drunk men wave us down to talk to us, but only one of them told us they loved Satan! The other just told us he knew his Bible and asked why we're selling Jesus. After a strange interaction in which he was walking circles around us talking about Christ transforming on the Mount of Gethsemane, he walked away talking to himself. The last one was pretty interesting. He waved us down and told us he had so much testimony, he could shove it up our butts. Oddly, it was completely endearing. He told us his life story (twice) and the many near death experiences he had had. A train passed by not more than twenty meters away, blasting the horn, and he said, "no worries man, I can hear you." I couldn’t even hear myself, and every time I looked at the train, he shook his head as if to say, "one day he'll learn." He insisted on giving me a hug. Walking away, he was screaming, "I love you!" My companions and I talked about it. Elder Keenan asked, what are the symptoms of being drunk? I enjoyed walking through the town of Mitchell. There is a strange beauty to that place. Many interesting, aged homes and patterns that I could spend hours with a real camera just capturing. It's incredible. *Henry only has his Samsung phone camera on the mission. Sometimes, there is so much around me, I am almost over stimulated. I read this amazing quote on the Canva app loading screen, "Everything has beauty; not everyone can see it." I thought that fit so perfectly with how I experience the world. I am extremely grateful to have been called where I've been called. As a missionary, I've really learned, and am still learning, how to more fully love; but I've come a long way. From days spent feeling angry at Trump bumper stickers in Casper, to days serving and loving people who openly defend that guy, I just don’t care as much. I haven't changed my view on politics, I've changed my view on people. I met Elder Laudie for the first time a year ago yesterday. I remember the first time I was chopping wood, he taught me the proper form and I was horrible at it. Yesterday, we went and chopped wood for the first time since I had done so with Elder Laudie. With proper form, I knew exactly where to hit and how to swing; I think Elder Laudie would be proud. Recently, obedience and casualness have been on my mind. President Palmer spearheaded a discussion on how to be good in your moments of relaxation. I thought about my humor -- the way I am often loud to either attract or divert attention. God seems to be telling me, "step up; not just in public, but in all your places." With that thought, we were listening to music driving to Cheyenne for exchanges. As I sat there, having already enjoyed an hour's worth of music, the Lord spoke to my heart and said, "I have something to tell you—study." I don’t want to turn the music off if others are enjoying it. I wrestled with this feeling, till the thought was brought to my mind, Elder Stutzman has yet to do language study. I asked if he would like some silence to do language study, and he agreed. I looked at where I was in the chapter: family study. Perfect, I thought. In the first section was a quote from George Albert Smith. When he was a young man, his grandfather (also named George A. Smith) appeared to him in a dream. He said: “‘I would like to know what you have done with my name.’ “Everything I had ever done passed before me as though it were a flying picture on a screen—everything I had done. Quickly this vivid retrospect came down to the very time I was standing there. My whole life had passed before me. I smiled and looked at my grandfather and said: “‘I have never done anything with your name of which you need be ashamed.’ “He stepped forward and took me in his arms, and as he did so, I became conscious again of my earthly surroundings. My pillow was as wet as though water had been poured on it—wet with tears of gratitude that I could answer unashamed. “I have thought of this many times, and I want to tell you that I have been trying, more than ever since that time, to take care of that name. So I want to say to the boys and girls, to the young men and women, to the youth of the Church and of all the world: Honor your fathers and your mothers. Honor the names that you bear.” I met with President Palmer this week. He told me that I had an unusual capacity to handle difficult situations. He also said he had been thinking about my mission and that I had been given this wonderful foundation with Elder Laudie in Casper, and that because of that, I was grounded during all this craziness. I'm ever grateful to God for Elder Laudie and that time in Casper. I was happy President Palmer, a man of such high character, could gift that compliment to me. I hope it's TRUE, and I hope to grow "day to day" and prepare and nourish "day to day." Just as I hope to grow my small and weak testimony into a force to move mountains.
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"You should be writing about things that surprise you. I think that is the instinct for all kinds of art. All you need to do, really, is to take that instinct and transform it into a craft." -Joyce Carol Oates The mission teaches me how to live life in a way that surprises me, that takes my good instincts and turns them into a craft. For instance, today was a difficult day. It began running, which is always good, but my anxiety has been running extremely high as of late. Constant. Especially regarding the things that I typically can relax about, like eating, running, listening to music, prayer, and socializing. I've just been feeling extremely weighed down. I have a lot of anxiety surrounding my personal study, due to my falling behind in the war chapters this week, but one verse really stuck out to me this morning after I decided to go reread a verse I'd skimmed. It reads: "And Moroni also sent unto him, desiring him that he would be faithful in maintaining that quarter of the land, and that he would seek every opportunity to scourge the Lamanites in that quarter, as much as was in his power." Something different struck me about this verse the second time. I thought it was telling me that I just have to do what's in my power, defend what I can do. I still think that's true. However, later in the day I received a more full understanding. While calling with my mom, she mentioned that a friend was really struggling. That deeply saddened me. In the mission, there is a joke that the most powerful revelation is shower revelation. After finishing as many emails as I could muster in the short window I had, I took a shower. That scripture came to my mind, and I thought it applied so perfectly. "Be faithful in maintaining that quarter of the land." A feeling that I should email her followed, which was quickly followed by a feeling of anxiety about not having time to email. My whole body tensed up, but I strove to just relax and whatever happened, happened. I began writing this email and I began to feel the dark pain that she felt, just in slight. I actually began crying, and even as I write this my tears well. I know of her goodness, and I want her to be happy. I sent, what I felt to be, a bold email addressing that I knew she was struggling, and exhorting her to fight on the ground she had. I do not know if that was the correct move, if I was the right person, if it was sent at the right time, and if I said it the right way; but I do know it was well-intentioned, and I hope she feels the love. I was searching for a possible Facebook post for our mission page yesterday, so I looked through some of my blog. Since my mom puts it together from my journal, I never look at it, and it was one of the first times I had ever done that. My writing surprised me. I was like, oh wow, that seems so natural in my own mind, but now that I see it from another perspective, imagining how others would read it, it must be very strange. Like, that scrawny spaz who laughs during prayers has thoughts? Frankly, I think this is a subconscious fear I have that is the root of a lot of my issues. I am extremely self-conscious about the way people perceive me. Though I may seem not to care in the moment, deep down I think about it. I think all people feel this and experience this at almost all times in their lives. I have a desire to be loved; further, a desire to be understood by others and have them love what they come to understand. A friend from my old cross country team sent me an extremely kind email, and the fact she thought to write it is amazing to me. I remember being a sophomore in high school and, after a long running workout, if I was lucky, I could snag a ride with Max and go to a restaurant. The best were summer practices in the morning. None of us had eaten breakfast, and some of us would ride over to Maxico (Max's Spanish style house) and he'd cook eggs for us. Seriously some of my favorite memories are from those summer practices. But man, I was struggling at that time. I was still small and spasmodic. Reading her note this week, it seemed years of worry of how I was perceived—which was subconscious—seemed to be laying to rest. It's as if God is telling me, as Elder Keenan did when I was complaining about my lack of soccer skills, "you're a little hard on yourself." There's a line in this song I love called Colors. It says, "Learn to carry the load of love you've been given; storm passes by; light breaks in." This week we went shopping and because I lost my credit card, I only had six dollars. I just bought two bags of potatoes and that was it. I was seriously depressed. This week I thought I was going to survive on fifteen potatoes and ten microwave rice pouches. I told my mom and dad about it and my mom immediately bought me and the guys lunch and then ordered a bunch of groceries for delivery. Later, we decided to go visit our new friend whom we met through a mutual San Diego friend. To our surprise, he was home, and we had a wonderful discussion regarding how we can be happy in this life. He had a lot of good questions, and asked us to pray for God to strengthen him to put in the work to draw close to Him. I told him the, "here a little there a little" scripture, and he loved it. Later, his girlfriend's son came up to us and asked to speak to us privately. Our friend left, and we talked to this kid. He said he was 21, and seeing that he was pretty drunk, I thought he was going to argue with us. He brought up polygamy and how people hate us, but then he asked, "but what do you wake up for every morning? What do you have faith in?" We talked about the peace we can have in Christ in this life, despite circumstance. At one point he said, "I'm smart, but I can't do what you do, you just pierce me to the center. How do you do that?" Thinking about how horribly sad I was earlier that day, it was a good check up. Why do I wake up in the morning? I don’t always know, but I intend to find out.
The missionary tradition here is to burn a tie at six months and a dress shirt at a year. Today I watched those flames rise up as the first half of my long run comes to a close. Oddly, I kept telling everyone I was going to Nebraska all last transfer, but I kind of said it as a joke. When it happened, it felt right. I love it here. They call it "the good life." This is the last journal entry I'll ever write on my mission that I haven't had a duplicate date. I remember writing in my journal in Casper and thinking, wow, when I make it to a year (which seemed impossibly far away), I'll be able to read exactly what I did a year ago and that will be so cool! I hit that turnaround way faster than expected. People say that all the time, but what I think they mean is that, at the beginning, it feels like forever away. Then, through consistent effort, eventually you get there and "forever" is now just here. I've been thinking about the amount I'm learning and experiencing and it's unreal. I'll really miss this hyper-chamber of spiritual development. My companion, Elder Keenan, doesn't love street contacting because he gets nervous. So, I take the lead a lot. It has helped me contemplate where I started as a missionary. Elder Keenan is my first companion that has been out under a year. For the first time, I feel confident and that, no matter what is thrown at me, I can handle it. I feel as a senior does in high school. I know these hallways, these people, and I know how I fit in. One year ago today, in a crisp white shirt and Miles' tie, I said goodbye to my parents. My mom, or my dad (I can't really remember because it was all emotionally blurry) said, "you're going to do great things." The previous night I bought Myles and Scout some Polaroid sweatshirts I saw at Target in the checkout line. I visited my sister in the hospital and gave her the sweatshirt. For the first time, or one of a very few times, I saw her cry because she was sad to see me leave. It may have been the morphine, but I choose to believe it was because she was going to actually miss me, and that I would miss her. That was the saddest goodbye. That hug with my sister was one of the sweetest. We left Scout and drove to the hotel next to the airport, stayed the night, then drove to LAX. Just as the first phase of my life had been -- my parents and I in LA. Waiting in that traffic, I felt a special kind of urgency, one I feel rarely. I was watching the last few moments of my childhood go. I left them -- and it was one of the strangest feelings one could have. I sat on the plane while other groups of missionaries coming in from Australia stepped on board, their faces shellshocked. One of them actually took the time to ask me if I was coming home or going out, although he could easily tell I was going out. He said, "you'll love it, it's a good time." "I don't believe that," I thought. I was scared out of my mind, but as Scorcese says, if it all seems impossible, good; you get up in the morning and you do it anyway. I've just kept doing that my whole mission. Everyday I had no idea if I was going to make it through that very next day. Since Bethany and Jason dropped me off at the MTC, many people and friends have entered my life. Years of experience and spiritual development were squashed into the span of weeks. Today, I walked around with confidence, knowing what to say, how to say it, how to approach people, and how to take criticism. People in Nebraska are so kind. We walked around for 15 minutes and got three return appointments. We got out of the car, and right as we stepped onto the sidewalk, a car pulls up and says, can I have a pamphlet? Sure! We gave them a card. We talked to an older woman who said she'd love us to come by. There was a guy grilling steaks we could have easily walked by, because he was wrangling kids, cooking, and blasting music. We started to talk, and he turned off the music. We offered a message about Christ and he readily accepted, saying his father passed away and he wanted to know more and have God in his life. It will be fun to get to know them and their family. Then, as we walked up to our car, a man walked up to us and very purposefully stood in our way. We stopped and said hi. He greeted us, hands behind his back. "Well, I thought since I don't get to pin you guys down very often, I'd invite you to church" he said. Out came a pamphlet in a newspaper sack in each hand; one for each of us. We thanked him, and he quickly went on his way. That's the kindest way anyone has ever confronted me. Turned out he was the pastor for that church. Even the pastors in Nebraska are nice to us! Even if they hate what we teach! This place is incredible. I was able to talk confidently, teach, know how to plan a day, and stay organized. I knew what was going on, I know the rules, and I feel at home as a missionary. A year ago, I was blessed to just be able to put on a white short-sleeved shirt without getting upset. Now, I feel at home. I received a congratulatory email from a family friend regarding my year anniversary. I was extremely flattered that he emailed, let alone remembered a significant date. He cited Brigham Young's words regarding trials. This quote touched me. Brigham young was not an educated man, however, this short paragraph described deeply complex ideas so simply even a child could understand. He explains why we should be grateful for our trials: “Then instead of concluding that the Lord has drawn us into difficulties, and compelled us to do that which is unpleasant to our feelings, and to suffer sacrifice upon sacrifice to no purpose, we shall understand that He has designed all this to prepare us to dwell in His presence, to possess His Spirit, which is right and intelligent, for nothing but purity and holiness can dwell where He is. He has so ordained it, that by the natural mind we cannot see and understand the things of God, therefore we must then seek unto the Lord, and get His Spirit and the light thereof, to understand His will. And when He is calling us to pass through that which we call afflictions, trials, temptations, and difficulties, did we possess the light of the Spirit, we would consider this the greatest blessing that could be bestowed upon us.” The email included another passage of scripture I had never read before. He urged me to read it, and I did so. A feeling of the spirit came over me as I did. It was soft, complete, and no disruption or tumult was present. Quietly, I sat and pondered the words, much as Joseph did while reading in Paul, and I was inspired. Although men like Adam, Peter, and Moses transgressed against God, they stood as noble and great spirits, highly favored in God's eyes. Indeed, they were entrusted with a great work, as I have been, to "carry the light of the gospel to them that were in darkness, even to all the spirits of men...." Even though I am imperfect, I can bring light to those around me. What could be more worthwhile? What could be more happy? Early on when I set a goal to run the distance equivalent of Casper to San Diego during my mission, Elder Laudie told me it was improbable. Well...I've already run halfway home.
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