Haha, so it's been about 5 years since the last time I was even on this blog. It was a happenstance that I recalled I had it, looking through a book that used to house the usernames and passwords for all my accounts. Yes, it's a favorite book but one that only needed to be read once. 😉 Interesting enough the last post here was also right near a major change year.
But anyhow I thought I'd document some of my thoughts as of late and try to eloquently state things, as this site is really more just for me and my personal record now. Where in the beginning it was more for me to review books and do art stuff. 🤷♂️ Now I think it will turn and morph quite a bit as I add things here. Which won't be consistent by any means and it won't all be the same unless I decide I actually want to put more effort into maintaining this site which at the moment I just want a place to put thoughts.
So. The thought that I have mainly centers around some of the questions and conversations I've been having over the last few years.
Now, I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, known in the world commonly referred to as the LDS church or Mormons. But I prefer the shortening of a member of the church of Jesus Christ. I believe in the power of a name.
Anyways. In the church culture it is common for young men at the age of 18 or young women at the age of 19 (up until a few years ago it used to be 19 for young men and 21 for young women) to voluntarily leave their family for the space of 18 months to 2 years to serve a mission for the church. Over the past few years the types of missions have grown and these individuals are called to serve by our prophet in an area somewhere in the world in a language they may not yet know. Which is cool. In the church it is more common for young men to go, not a requirement but strongly encouraged. The young women have the option to serve a mission. Anyhow.
The age change spurred a lot of the women to go. Which is cool. A lot saw the advantage of having the men and women the same or closer in age. Which is cool. But for the last 5 years (since I graduated Highschool) I've been asked tome and time again about if I wanted to serve a mission. If I had desire to serve a mission. If I had strong enough faith to serve a mission. If I prayed enough to receive an answer about whether I should serve a mission. If I felt like I should serve a mission. If I believed enough to go serve a mission. And many others similar to this. All the questions however had the phrase:
"...you should serve a mission..."
Embedded in them. I don't blame anyone or hold grudges for the questions that seemed more like knifes stabbing my way that questioned why i don't serve a mission.
But. This. Is. A. Personal. Decision. Between an individual and God.
In my church the belief is that our loving Heavenly Father (whom is referred to as God) sent us to earth with a great plan of Happiness. To live and experience. Before we came to this earth we lived with Him and all the other spirits of those who would come into mortality and we were taught by him. I'm sure we were told the plan of our lives and we knew what we may experience here. Not that we could comprehend in a form without a phiscial body. But I believe that we were all shown the plan God has for us there. And I believe that He is a Perfect God and He helps to guide us.
For me, in my senior year (last year of secondary school before University) of high school, I was super excited about the prospect of being able to serve a mission at 19. I had the faith, my brother was on his mission, and I don't know if he recalls, but we had a conversation about the desire, and he was encouraging. So I thought the best way to know if I should do it--where I had convinced myself it was--was to ask God in prayer about this decision. As it would determine a lot about what I'd be preparing for come fall going to college.
I remember kneeling down and pouting my desires into this conversation with God. (I like to talk to him and have a conversation rather than feel like I'm making requests to a butler.) I told him that I had desire and faith to go and that I wanted to serve his children and be a missionary. I felt a peace and a tangible voice in my head say to me. 'no.' struggling with that I tried again the following nights and got the same feeling that I did with the 'no'. Confused and not to be deterred I searched in the scriptures in one of my books of choice in the Bible (now at least) Isaiah. I read the poetry getting nothing, my heart feeling heavy and thinking of myself as a failure. A lot of my female and male friends had filled out or were filling out paperwork to go on missions, and it was near the end of the school year, and I wanted to go, (looking back, I wanted to go and experience the joy they seemed to exclusively have). I remember having a conversation with a Seminary instructor after class one day, who posed the perspective, of answers like the 'no' I kept getting and suggested changing the question, if the answer was clear and consistent, to ask more of a if not this then where should I go. Or if not this, then what would you have me do.
For example, my question changed from 'should I go on a mission' , or 'should I start the process of becoming a missionary' into the following:
I have desire to serve thee, how can I do that with where I'm at?
I want to serve a mission but if now is not the right time what should I do instead?
I understand going and serving a mission is not in my plan, but I want thy help in assisting me in seeing the next step in my plan. Or help me see what to do instead.
With these questions I felt prompted to receive my patriarchal blessing. This blessing is one that a male priesthood authority who has been called as a patriarch is able to give. It's more or less a blessing to let you know your heritage, and provide aide in our lives as a road map and navigator of sorts. It's also a source of comfort and peace.
I went through the process and got mine and felt like going to college was my next step. So I did.
Over the whole first year, I prayed constantly about serving a mission, and did my best to be kind to those around me serve where I could and help people feel joy and love. I kept being told I was where I was needed.
My first semester I lived with a roommate with severe depression. She didn't leave the room we shared a lot and she had a hard time doing a lot of things. We would have some conversations late at night when I'd come back, as I tried to avoid the apartment due to the sad feelings her depression pulled me into. But we talked about her depression and near the end of the semester she decided she wanted to get help. So she moved home to get the professional help she needed. In her place in the spring I was blessed greatly with a roommate from Japan. I love her dearly. She didn't practice a religion and as half of the roommates were new (one being in the LGBT community, one a recent Returned Missionary, and her) it was a fun new dynamic to figure out. I grew to be friends with her fast and we discussed religion a lot as I am very active religiously, and I study scriptures and things. One day I remeber her asking about the Book of Mormon and her asking if she could read it with me, to help improve her English as it seemed to have some stranger words than she was used to hearing. Once the RM heard that, she set her up with the missionaries. Which I told her that she didn't need to meet with them, and she could say no. I knew it was her first intro to organized religion and she wanted to know more but I didn't want her to rushin if she didn't feel right about it. In the end she stopped meeting with the missionaries but I was able to get her a Japanese Book of Mormon to take home with her at the end of the school year. The other new one, LGBT, was fun. We had loads of conversations and there was no pressure either way to change who we were or what we believed. And even knowing that she would pass on church I always made sure to ask if she wanted to come. (I'd learn later that she appriciated the sentiment and it helped change her view of the members of the church a bit) but nothing other than a friendship came of it. And the other two (there's one other but we never really spoke much) we got along swimmingly as the members in our apartment. At the end of that year, the burning desire to serve a mission had been set ablaze with me realizing one day in the early summer that I already was. And I was right where I was needed. I helped a roommate who needed help. I planted seeds I made friends, and it was awesome.
Going into the following year I prayed to know what and where I was needed, and who I should talk with. This was an interesting thing for me, as I felt like I was already 'serving my mission' where I was, and felt comfort in the place I was, that I was meant to be there. I didn't know what awaited me, only that all but one roommate were new and I'd have to find a new balance.
This was the 6 months of a hoarder as a roommate before she decided she needed help, left school in the middle of spring for it. She was in a dark place, and we didn't really talk, other than me weekly offering a ride for her to come to church, or my good night statement that I was turning off the lights. More of her later.
I was blessed with 4 other roommates, one who had been with me the year prior. One was a Returned Missionary whom I adore and we fell in fast like we were just meant to fit. Her partner in that room was a neighbor who was up for things but was a little harder to get to know but who was a sweetheart. Then the other was a freshman (like the one I had in my room) who came from New Jersey and was Catholic. I don't really know how the others really interacted with her knowing her beliefs were different, but me and my fast friend roommate were fast to take a liking to her and were fast supporters of hers no matter what. I think she seemed to gravitate to me just because I told it how it was, or would just say what was on my mind, with a lack of sugar coating it or skirting around a topic. But she and I became really good friends, and in October she let me know in private she had begun meeting with the missionaries. November December she stopped due to a busy season in her sport, but I made a point to go to a few of her tournaments to show my support. I mean, I have family who aren't in my religion, and friends who don't believe the same as me but I still love them. Where it felt like a few of the other roommates were pulling away since she stopped meeting with the missionaries. It was during this time we had a good conversation of the Book of Mormon. (This is the blue book all the LDS missionaries have that they give. It's another testament of Jesus Christ, and tells the history of those peoples who lived in the Americas.) we discussed how she had tried reading it before, when meeting with the missionaries, and it was just words to her. And she felt discouraged thinking something miraculous like the first vision would happen. With a smile, I felt like I should tell her about my own experience with the Book of Mormon, praying if it was true, if the church was true, if what I had grown up learning was true, and how my answers came. I described it much similar to a sunrise, where you sit in the darkness and it gradually increases in light until the sun is up and its day. The graduality was me, praying and studying the scriptures, seeking answers actively. Over time I received the answer in my heart that it was true. It wasn't sudden. It wasn't a miraculous event with an angel. Then I told her about my prayers about going and serving a mission, it came up since she was seeing a boy who was working towards going on one himself. I told her about how I received the answer to that very fast, like the flipping on of lights using a switch. We talked at some length about how she had been thinking about trying to read the book again, but kept pushing it off. I suggested why not just sit and read one verse?
So she did. And she did. And she met with the missionaries again. And she was baptized that February. She was a miracle for me. I wasn't one of the missionaries teaching her, but I was a trusted source of information and an encourager. And I still love her, and know that she made the decision after finding the answer for herself.
The hermit hoarder never came to church on my offer. She hardly ate, hardly slept, and almost never went to class. She left about a week before the baptizm, and I didn't really think much more than being grateful half the room wasn't piled high with stuff. The next fall I was walking around on campus and I ran into her. She looked completely different and more happy. And she stopped me and told me 'thank you for always offering to take me to church, and do things." I guess she felt utterly alone and was struggling with some severe mental illnesses and self-image issues. But she told me that her dad had called a few weeks prior to her moving out and had their normal conversation, but in that one he had asked her, since she was focused on the doom and gloom, if anyone she met here cared. (she was thinking of taking her life at this point) and as she was about to spit out that no one cares, and say her final goodbye, my voice popped into her head, and she told her dad that she needed help.
We were never close, and unlike some of the other people who I know who struggled with similar things, we didn't embrace and become closer. But she thanked me for helping save her life. My heart was filled with joy for her, and I had a spring in my step after that.
Although, the end of the second year brought me to a darkness that I didn't know I could experience. I had news that was a blow to me, and made me question a lot of things. During that time I was in a dark place, and the only constant in my life was holy music. Of any kind. I was and still am a member of the Logan Institute choir, and I craved the music to help pull me out of the darkness. Nothing else seemed to work. Along with a job I would have preferred not to be in in the beginning, I had a big humbling experience that summer.
I was blessed, however, to have an amazing group of roommates the following year. And I had the opportunity to be the 1st counselor in the Relief Society Presidency for my ward that year. It was a beautiful blessing to be a member of that presidency, as well as the ASL Club presidency. But the RS that year. It was good I was there. I was in it with a bunch of idealists, and I was the realist, and my logical brain probably helped us plan and actually do things fully rather than half-way. But I loved all the girls that year. I think most of the freshmen were unsure what to do since I had colored hair (blue, red, mixtures) and was in the presidency rocked thier world a bit, but I think my countanence made me easier to talk to than the others. Added to that the fact that I made sure to learn the names. They came to me with things and I was a listener. I had a lot of 'smoothie' talks that year.
I was blessed to share a room with Alyson. Whom is a kindred spirit. Who is family. I love her to pieces. And I'm grateful she was in my life in physics my freshman year. She is amazing. And her family is fantastic. I know I helped her a lot but when I struggled with pressure from hormonal frustrated rommies and I couldn't bear it she was there to have my back.
And she's one of the only ones who know what I found out and that has opened so many doors for me.
This last year was interesting.
Well, okay. Over the last 2 to 3 years the conversation of 'mission' has shifted to marriage.
Which is hilarious since my record for dates goes to the 4th. But hey, whatever.
I think this last year it got bad since my brother is married now, Alyson is married and a lot of the friends I have are either dating engaged or married as of this year. It's not bad, but I wasn't dating. Not for lack of wanting to.
In the fall I had a minor operation to cut and drain a cyst and was healing from that for 4 months. So I had no desire to do anything other than heal. Then coming to spring I had a new major, new outlook and I was ready..... But no opportunity presented the self. And now, Covid.
But I also hit a new low with panic over not dating and getting married and started to let the weight of my own and the expectations that were drilled into me from my religion about family.
I felt worthless since I wasn't dating finding a spouse.
I felt like I wasn't doing enough.
Not attractive enough.
Not Enough.
Just not enough.
The voice in my head dragged me down.
Then I got my grades back for this semester. 4.0. The first time in a long time I have had a 4.0. And prior to that I had a job offer. And it moved online to a virtual platform rather than being canceled. And more things started happening that made me realize that,
I was not worthless.
I am enough.
And even when I'm not, my Savior makes up the difference.
So I started my approach with the family, husband questions differently, since it had been rather accusatory and pleading, strained. Now it has morphed into a how can I become better? How can I prepare to be their spouse? What can I do now?
And even more importantly, since I'm not in a relationship, and not seeking answers for marriage, my questions and prayers have changed.
What can I do to align. Y life to the plan you have for me?
How can I prepare for my future, so I can have opportunities that you have in store for me?
How can I learn to better help those in need?
More self-improvement than self-doubt.
I know my God has a plan for me, you and all of us. I know He is omnipotent and he will guide us, but he respects our agency so we are free to ask for his influence or ignore it. And I know that where I'm at is a steppi g stone for where He wants me to be. I might not see more than one step in front of me, but he sees all the way beyond the finish line. Its up to me to have the faith and trust to believe Him when he tells me to step here or there.
I'm learning, and constantly improving. I'm doing my best, and in the end that's all I can do.
