Speaking with God

Inner Struggle Essay

Photo by Natalie Cherie Campbell

Standing on a sidewalk I was stopped at a fork in the path. Instinctively I looked down the right path to my apartment window. My friends would be waiting, including the man I was dating. Without hesitation, I began to walk down the left path. Soon enough, as I’d felt to be true, Spencer ran up behind me, holding my hand. Through his eyes I saw his soul sigh, and we kept walking.

Opening my eyes, I waited for the dreams to seep from my memory. I was accustomed to feeling forgotten dreams flee the daylight because I never remembered my dreams. But this morning was different: the dream didn’t leave. I had known Spencer for six months. We were folk dancers, and I lived for the moments when we danced together, talked together, laughed together, my feet burning with energy. But I also knew that he loved me and that I could easily love him if I let myself. So I didn’t let myself, instead choosing to spare with my conscious in an endless dance of self-denial as I remembered a priesthood blessing that told me "I'd know my future husband when I met him." Sometimes I decided that if Spencer was "the one" then he’d just have to wait. Sometimes I decided that God would have to fix my fear of marriage before I did anything. And sometimes I would dream. In the quiet moments of night, when fear had gone to sleep, I began to dream honestly, and refusing to let me forget, my dreams started to become a reality.

Scripture Essay

Photo by Dee West

In the summer of 2012 I would often sit on my roof, gazing up at God through speckled sunlight and leafy boughs. We would often talk, God and I; I would ask the questions and He would give answers. One day I climbed up onto roof from the side porch gap and lowered my head, shoulders sagging with repetitive weariness. I felt inadequate, frightened. I had received an email from Jerusalem, it was Spencer’s day to write, and he’s told me of his plans to work for the CIA. So I’d fled to my roof instead of arguing with mom over the wisdom of me loving a boy with such dangerous career goals. Feeling the warm shingles with my toes, I laid on my back, stared at God and began to speak:

“How is it done?” I paused as a bird flew from its nest. “God, how is it done, that you take such small people, move us so far, and use only those two actions to fuel your work? How?”

I sat quietly, waited, and began to speak. True to form, His answer emerged, simultaneous with the sound of my vocal cords. “By small and simple things, are great things brought to pass . . .”

Bombs bloom and poppies litter,

In realities where children shiver

From breath of hate and strain of woe

To such places my trusted go.

The small and simple are infinite,

When bringing with them the Omnipotent.

Wilderness Essay

Photo by Natalie Cherie Campbell

We were lost and it was my fault. I had gotten 25 people lost in a lush green wilderness of English footpaths. I’d spent the past month hiking through different parts of the United Kingdom with my study abroad group. On this particular day, we were trying to get to the London Temple because having gotten my endowments a month earlier, I had requested we go. Doing my best to book rail tickets, plan bus trips, and minimize walking, since my director didn’t want to, I thought I’d done a pretty good job until the bus didn’t arrive and we were left stranded in a small town a few miles away from the temple, ignorant of which way the temple even was.

“We could have been visiting tourist spots.”

“This is such a waste.”

“I didn’t want to come anyway.”

“So much for that plan.”

The words swirled around me like bee stings. Tears began to coat the stingers as each drop slid down my chin. “Heavenly Father,” I prayed, “please just help me find the Temple.” The gravel near my feet crunched as a tire filled my peripheral vision. Looking up, a silver passenger van had filled the road in front of our pathetic band of walkers, and a man in a white shirt and tie with silver tipped hair got out.

“Are you people looking for the temple?” he asked casually.

I was dumbfounded. As our director arranged to have our group driven to the temple in shifts, I got into the car. I was silent as everyone filled the air with thanks. The gentleman simply replied,

              

“Don’t thank me, I was just working in the temple when I was prompted that a group of lost brothers and sisters was looking for our temple and wouldn’t find it if I didn’t go and find them.”

As we drove away from our wilderness of English footpaths, I bowed my head once again, “Thank you for finding me Heavenly Father.” 

Personal Essay Practice

Inner Struggle:

     Tainted and flawed. How can I ever move on? How can I ever forgive myself? Chest pressed and throat clogged. They say that time heals all wounds, but how can it fix this, when it is constantly in my mind? Resurfacing and resurfacing. What I did, replaying over and over and over. I can’t move on. Perhaps He has forgiven me, but I know I will not be able to forgive myself. How can I when it’s always there, engraved in my mind?

    They say that time heals all wounds. I never really believed that, until it did. The pain is still there. It will always be there. But now I can breathe. There is no longer a weight on my chest or that constant lump in my throat. Time heals all wounds, but it was not only time that I needed so I could forgive myself. The pain has been soothed, my mind calmed and reassured, my heart peaceful and filled with gratitude. If I can trust that God can forgive this horrible thing that I did, then how could I not forgive myself and move on? Of course, it was not as easy as that. I fought. Constantly, I fought myself:

I have to move on—you don’t deserve to move on—I’m okay, He wants me to be okay so I should forgive and move on—how can you pretend it never happened?—It’s not that, I just need to be better and I can’t if I don’t forgive myself…    

They say time heals all wounds. I believe it’s true, but I would add that Time and God heal all wounds.

Scripture, Personal and Powerful:

     “I cannot do it. I cannot do this anymore. I’m tired. And it’s hard, it’s just so hard.”

How many times have I thought these words to myself? Too many times to count. When struggling in classes, when trying to overcome bad habits, when going through pain and suffering. Always the same words: “I cannot do this anymore.” And sometimes I let myself wallow in this misery, thinking that maybe I should just give up. Why try if it’s always going to be this way? Why try? .... Because if I endure it well, God will exalt me on high… “thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; And then, if though endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; though shalt triumph over all thy foes.”

After remembering that, it’s not so easy to give up or to say that I don’t care. “Peace be unto thy soul.” That is exactly what I feel each time, and after that things are not one hundred present solved, but they are better.

Growing Up is Hard to Do

My Inner Struggle:
In my dreams I still experience it all. I hear the ropes slap, I smell the new gym shoes, and I feel the energy through my body has I jump and cartwheel and turn. For years I jumproped (yes, I made that one word) on the Proform Airborne team. I competed and performed in everything from red ribbon week assemblies at elementary schools to the AAU's Junior Olympics. It was entwined in every area of my life. I practiced at least seven hours a week all year round, and taught once week during the school year. My team was my family. We competed, performed, traveled, laughed, cried, and shared our passion together. In fact, it was so ingrained in me, that I decided I would wait to got to BYU. Instead I'd stay at home, where I could continue competing and work on my associates at BYUI. But as my senior year progressed, I knew that I wasn't the right decision. I needed to give up my team. But not jumprope. I'd practice everyday! I'd work on singles. I'd stay in shape and be ready when a new jumprope opportunity arose.

But my freshman year was hard and busy. I only jumped one time. After my freshman year I got married, then eventually I had kids, and all the while I was still putting my heart and soul into my studies.
When I scroll through my facebook feed, I see all my old jumpers. Many of them have become professional. Some of them take time of off school to jumprope for Cirque du Soleil. Some of become world champions. Meanwhile, I wake up at 6:30 most mornings to work on homework, and my husband and I go to bed at ten at night so we can survive waking up with the baby. From the outside looking in, we're not very extraordinary or evening exciting. But on day, when my knees are bad and my arthritis sets in, I can't wait to look back on this again, and see where my struggle brought me.

Second Wavers, Crying, and Painting Humans

1. An Inner Struggle: The Second Wavers

As I get older, I see more and more people fall away from their faith in God. It has happened in waves. 

The first group to fall away was composed of those looking for a way out, those that for whatever reason disliked the culture or lifestyle faith promoted and willingly left. 

The second wave, which has been more common as of late for my friends and associates, is composed of people who genuinely have fought to secure their faith, but feel unable to do so because of their prevailing doubts. These people want to believe in something bigger than themselves, but in spite of their sacrifices and painstaking efforts, still face a reality in which they feel more doubt than faith. 

I have thought a lot about both of these groups. These are not bad people. In fact, the closer you get to these people and situations, the more I realize that I fundamentally do not believe that "bad people" exist. No one wakes up in the morning and immediately thinks, "Today, I'm going to be as violent, angry, stubborn, close-minded, immoral, impatient, and irreverent as humanly possible." People just aren't wired that way. Just like you and I, everyone wakes up and does his or her best to make sense of difficult questions and situations that frankly do not make sense. 

Understanding people like this, we can sympathize with this first wave, that simply feels like a greater happiness is available outside of the realm of faith. The more interesting of the two groups is the second: if God exists and has answers, why does he let the drifting minds drift on? 

This is an undeveloped thought. It is one I have thought a lot about in my life and likely one that will reoccur as long as I live. We know that God, even in his infinite wisdom, weeps because of his inability to curb the agency of men more fully. My mortal tears for these second wave friends and family members are far less perfect than Heavenly Father’s, but my heart goes out to these men and women who, like a young Joseph Smith, felt doubt in the knowledge they had and insufficient answers to their rapidly turning minds. I have learned that we are all vulnerable, and that faith is possible and real, but how we help those who have given their all is something I will continue to seek out.

2. Scripture, Personal and Powerful: Crying

I am not a crier. Movies, books, break-ups, and all variations of losses still have meaningful and lasting effects on me, but they are unable to ignite tears. There may be a blocked valve somewhere up in there. My mom calls me heartless. I’m not sure I have a lot of tangible evidence to refute their claim, but there is one instance I have to my aid. I was fairly deep into my mission in Rosario, Argentina, struggling in a new area and living with a companion who seemed to have been created with the sole purpose to disagree with everything I did and said. I had not cried, but I was tired. So mentally exhausted that my body would match it by falling asleep whenever it hit a solid surface on anything but my two feet.

As I was preparing for bed one night, I opened the New Testament. I happened upon a verse in Luke 9 that had new meaning to me. “And Jesus said unto him, Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head.” It dawned on me: Christ was tired. His exhaustion must have been almost unending. Even in death, he went immediately back to work. Thinking of how tired I was and how much more tired Christ must have been while being rejected of his own and living on the road, I started to cry; a temporary repair or malfunction to my valve, depending on how you look at it. But my appreciation was real, and it felt so good to be understood by anyone at that moment.

So I do have a heart, mom.

3. A Wilderness Quest: Painting Humans

            My mom is a painter. She would be the first to tell you that she is not a very good painter, but she’s a good mom so I grew up thinking that she was a good painter, too. Painters know a great deal about meaning and categorizing things, and I think my mom did her best to help me. She would take me on long walks with her to scope out new things to paint in her tiny studio in the corner of our house. We would walk for what felt like hours at a time, and my mom would ask me to look for images in the trees or the sky for her next project. My mom would normally paint something other than the object I pointed out, but she had a way of thanking and validating my efforts. Once, I pointed out what I thought was the most handsome dead stump I had ever seen. It’s roots reached out of the ground like a rotten, aging fingers and were covered in a mold that was the kind of green that you avoid when shopping for sweaters. I cried out, “Mom! Mom! It’s a masterpiece!” My mother, the world’s most effective diplomat, kneeled down to my level and said, “You’re my masterpiece.” I was so flattered, I forgot about my idea all-together. I would come home and look at my mother’s art on the wall, proudly keeping her secret to myself that she was nothing without my obviously gifted pair of five-year-old eyes.

            My mom’s paintings developed through the years. Sometimes she painted beautiful landscapes. Other weeks she would focus on small objects that people would never deem as aesthetically pleasing while passing them by in the wild. But my mom could make anything beautiful. Looking at my mom’s paintings, I noticed a consistency between how my mom treats her paintings and people. No scene my mother painted was perfect. She wouldn’t distort the scene to make the painting more picturesque, but she was forgiving in her renditions. That is also how my mom treats people. She can see the good in the bad, the light in the dark, and the hope in the hopeless.

Blood, Guts, and Bridges

Writing about myself is generally easy; a 200 word limit changes that. But I hope these few words will convey my self and experiences well.

Inner Struggle

Succeeded by pajamas, the others take their nocturnal stations: blouse in hamper, skirt on hanger, name tag on desk. I crumple into my plastic chair; it sighs with me. 

The page I open to is cleaved up the middle by white stitches. Tonight I enlist my red pen in addition to the black. Red goes first.

I want to do what He wants me to do, but I don’t know what that is.

The black pen responds: God gives us autonomy when He trusts us.

But He shouldn’t trust me.

Remember—President said “Willing and worthy.”

He had. With perpetually carefree smile wilted, eyes darkened behind his glasses, he’d actually told me twice in our latest interview.

But I’m not as willing to do hard things as I should be. And when I don’t do them, that decreases my worthiness.

Black references my morning’s scripture study: “Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak.”

Yes, but I haven’t helped bring about enough miracles in the land like Ammon did.

“Have we not great reason to rejoice?”

Not if I haven’t done enough. The ink is blood on my hands.

The day’s events and words waft behind my eyes. One Elder’s mantra surfaces, dragging indecisive hope along: “Let the Lord form you His way.”

I’ll try.

Scripture

I smile when the oldest five file in. They join our oldest three, filling the bench everyone recognizes as ours. Jake—four months my junior and ten years my friend—sits next to me. His hand is stained with the guts of my ’94 Escort. I remember with a wince what Jake doesn’t know: that he may never get to finish my car. We might be moving.

The opening prayer lets my eyelids hide my tears. I silently say my own. “How can we leave them?” I ask God—again. “They’re practically family.”

I’ve given up on an answer when a local missionary recounts her recent transfer. I’m only half-listening until she says: “It was hard to leave the people I’d grown to love.” My chin pops up. “Then in my scripture studies, I read this verse.” I lean far enough forward to almost hit the next bench.

“‘I know thy heart, and have heard thy prayers concerning thy brethren.’” The words strum my innards. “‘Be not partial towards them in love above many others, but let thy love be for them as for thyself; and let thy love abound unto all men, and unto all who love my name.’”

It’s a combination of comfort and command, and it rinses my soul. Today this verse is mine.

Wilderness Quest

I trudge up the dirt ramp and pause at the top of the berm. The bristly tamarisks and pubescent cottonwoods have overrun the flood plain below, and the river-side of the ramp must’ve been washed out in my two-year absence. I climb down anyway. 

I have to part and lunge between branches, but I make it. The river is colorless as usual and gunky at the bends, but the tonal flow is loud enough to mask my voice.

I glance upwards for tradition’s sake. “What am I supposed to be doing?” I ask Him. Unstifled sobs bob atop my mind’s flood of questions. “I don’t even know which career I’d want, let alone what I’m meant to choose.”

An attentive silence is in order, and I reach out for any hint of a response. There are no words this time. Nor pictures. But the feeling of being heard smooths my tear stream into a flood plain.

“I know,” I say. “I don’t always get to have a plan. This is teaching me to move forward with faith.” It’s nothing new, and I don’t like it. But it’s true.

As I start back, my ranging gaze lingers on the bridge—the bridge between the islanded neighborhood of my youth to the rest of the world. How long it looks from here.

  

Frontier

Struggle

A few weeks ago I heard back from Teach from America about my interview: I’m in. They’ve offered me a job teaching middle school math in Cincinnati. That’s in Ohio.[1] I accepted the job; I start training in Atlanta in June, and then I will move out to Cincinnati in July.

          “How are you going to do that?” everyone asks, out of what I believe to be a sincere concern for my well-being. This question has a couple of subtexts, the first one being Pack up and move to a new place where you don’t know anyone? Eeesh. Another is Who would ever want to live in the Midwest? Yuck. (That one mostly comes from natives of the American West.) The last, a really fun one, is Why would you leave the Promised Land? There aren’t any Mormons in Cincinnati. My answer to all of these external struggles is, simply, This is what I am going to do. My decision to join Teach for America was a prayerful one, derived from about a hundred moments of personal revelation which led me to it. So as irritating as that initial question is, it really doesn’t mean anything to me, because I know that this is what I should be doing.

          Still—and I never thought I would say this—Provo, in the past seven years, has become a home for me. I’m at the point in school where I love being in my classes and feel on top of college, rather than crushed by it. I love working at my job, where I get to help people learn to write, and where I am part of an inspiring community of writers. I love my apartment—after four years of searching, I’ve finally found one that is close to campus and not gross! I love the mountains, I love the 7-11 on 5^th and University. And I love the friendships I’ve made here, which are ultimately what makes me love everything else. There are some people in this town that I cannot imagine not seeing every day.

          How do I carry out my own plans? How do I move to Cincinnati without being terrified?

Finding Worth and Finding God

An Inner Struggle: Mission Impossible

General Conference October 2012: Morning
We are all sprawled on the couch or on the floor. Pajamas are the fashion and cereal is being crunched during the opening song. The program proceeds as usual, "Welcome to such and such session of Conference...the young women of the Church will now be able to serve missions at the age of nineteen". All of us gasp and eyes gawk. One roommate had always planned on a mission so this simply shifted her plan forward. Another roommate was seriously dating a nice young man but now a mission was on the table. And then me. A mission have never been on or off the table. Now, in a matter of five seconds, I was of mission age. The more I thought, the more enthused I became about the idea. I called by parents who replied "We knew we would get this call from you".

December 2012:
"Dear Paige Whitney, You have been accepted into the Landscape and Literature study abroad for Spring of 203". I knew what people would think. "Oh, you chose a mission over a study abroad?" or "You know, you will never regret going on a mission but you will regret not going", as if I had made one of my greatest decisions on a whim. No, God did not tell me not to go on a mission. He left the decision up to me though I wanted Him to make it for me. When I decided to go on a mission, I felt anxious and confused. When I decided not to go, I felt peace. Perhaps, I finally accepted, my mission would not come in the mail or send me away. Though God did not make my decision, once made, He let me know I had a different mission ahead.

Scripture, Personal, and Powerful: Finding a Gift
I was the only girl in my Young Women's group who played piano. I won the creative writing contest at my high school. I was a Mormon and so I stood out in my community. I had considered writing and piano my two talents from a young age and being a Mormon was a large part of my identity...until I arrived at Brigham Young University. Every sacrament meeting contained a musical number performed by an individual who had played since infancy. I began the English major and everyone had impressive writing abilities. I became absolved in a Mormon community where I was one of many. I was in a BYU rut, I like to called it. I was lost in a sea of talent, intelligence and spiritual giants. With nowhere else to go and little hope of finding solace, I opened by scriptures randomly to Doctrine and Covenants Section 11 and read "Behold, thou hast a gift, or thou shalt have a gift if thou wilt desire of me in faith, with an honest heart, believing in the power of Jesus Christ, or in my power which speaketh unto thee". Though my fingers did not magically fill with musical genius or my mind with beautiful poetics, the scripture touched my dampened soul. Looking back, I cannot point out specifically a new talent I received but I can say that God heard me and my plea for acknowledgement.

Climbing Mountains and Other Such Things

Inner Struggle: Choosing English
"I'm sure you hear this all the time, but what can you do with an English degree?" I asked the guys at the information desk in front of me. I was at an on campus major fair trying to choose my future as I wandered the tables filling the ballroom.
They responded that English taught you a set of skills that could be used in a wide range of careers. It all just depended on how you chose to use the degree. I nodded my head and smiled, pretending to understand what that meant. It seemed so vague.
I would later repeat this same question to my creative writing professor who would give me a similar answer. And it still seemed vague to me.
English didn't come with a clear cut course. There wasn't an engineering job or a teaching position waiting for me at the end. Instead it opened up to a realm of unknown potential. A place where countless opportunities awaited (or so I was told) that I just simply had to find. These endless possibilities sounded exciting, but for a planner like me they also sounded terrifying.
I decided to try it, though. Despite my fears I took my first English class and took my first step down the road to the unknown. And I have yet to look back.

Scripture: All Things Testify
"I say unto you, I know there is a God . . . But, behold, I have all things as a testimony that these things are true; and ye also have all things as a testimony unto that they are true; and will ye deny them?" Alma 30:39,41
The first time I really remember reading this scripture was on a family vacation. It was a Sunday and my dad, wanting to set a spiritual tone before we headed into nearby Teton National Park, read the scripture to us. He talked about what it meant and challenged us to look for God's hand as we drove through the park.

Little Moments

Inner Struggle: Finding Courage

I stared at the woman as she chattered on in a one-sided conversation. There were three of us seated at the small round table, but my companion and I didn't have much to offer in making small talk. Panic rose in my chest as I realized the woman had asked us a question. Please, please respond to her. I pleaded silently to my companion, hoping she had understood the question. Instead, my companion turned to me with a questioning look in her eyes. Oh no. I felt my mouth start to open. "Um, come?" My dry throat made my voice sound like I'd swallowed cellophane.

Instead of repeating the question, the woman slapped the table with a loud crack!, making both of us jump. Then she started laughing like she'd heard the world's greatest joke.

"Non avete capito niente!" ("You haven't understood anything!") she cackled in amusement.

She sure hit the nail on the head. When will this language stop sounding like Chinese?? As I sat there praying for a response, sudden courage filled my heart. It's okay, sister. She's just a member of the Church and she understands how hard this is. Just speak!

I swallowed hard and tried again. "Mi dispiace. Come?"

Maybe I still wouldn't understand her question today, but I knew that it would make sense one day. God needed me to learn this language to help His children and I wasn't going to give up so soon.

best of luck.

Here are my three devotional writings. I found it really difficult to keep my stories within 200 words, but I hope I was able to convey the right ideas within these short writings. So, best of luck while reading these.

Inner Struggle: Puff, Puff, Pass

I was handed a thick blunt, a cigar casing stuffed full with marijuana. It was simply to pass along since I was in the circle, just another stop along the way. My friends laughed around me, chatting and joking, unaware of the obvious struggle showing on my face. I’d been clean for four months, by choice, and had not stopped hanging out in the same places with the same people. Because it was my choice to quit, I knew smoking again would be my choice, though it wasn’t in my plans. But reality was pushing in on me, blinding me, making me go deaf from the noise; the stresses of being on the line of poverty, the fighting I watched every day in my own home, the coping I couldn’t handle, the escape getting high brought me.

I put the end to my lips and inhaled, a muscle memory that I’d forgotten was so easy. A soft, warm burning filled my throat, down into my lungs. The THC found itself in my body once again and I could feel it setting in quickly. I passed the blunt, my thoughts slowing down, reality was subdued. The yelling was muffled, the lights dimmed, the pushing weakened. For the first time in four months, I relaxed. It was an overwhelming high, where I felt like a lava lamp with an insatiable case of the munchies.

About Scripture: April 17th, 2009

My eyes fluttered open and closed as my mother sped down the freeway to the ER.

Calmed and Directed

1. Inner Struggles

Stepping into the apartment, I was very proud of myself. The date had gone really well! She told me that she loved the restaurant, the flowers, and the activity afterward— but as we entered the apartment I could tell something was on her mind. She had fallen silent and her slightly furrowed brow told me the lighthearted, carefree feeling of the night was gone and may not return.

Photo from: http://1.bp.blogspot.com/

She went and sat on the couch with me. The silence was less awkward than I expected it to be; both of us were deep in thought. And as we sat there she took a sharp breath before whispering, “So I’m thinking about going on a mission.” OH. NO. Great. Just great! What was I to do? Do I support her in her desire to leave for a year and a half? Or do I discourage it? How do I answer? I had to respond within a couple seconds and my mind was going a million miles a second. Is there a chance that she’ll stay? What if this is just a test! How seriously is she actually considering leaving?

Without fully making a decision in my own head, words just flooded out. “You would be a fantastic missionary.”
I spent the rest of the night wrestling with those words.

2. Scripture, Personal and Powerful

I used to not be the best with staying on top of religion. There is a lot to do! Go to this meeting, go to that get together, write a talk, teach a lesson, go visit the widow down the road. And I guess I just got complacent. It’s easy to get complacent. With a never ending number of things to put your time and focus in, no wonder why you it can be easy to lose sight of certain things. It was one day I had actually found time to read the Book of Mormon. I came across a section where Mosiah is teaching his children about the scriptures. I realized that this is exactly what I needed to hear. I was to do all these things in church so “so that I can become [a man] of understanding” and that if “it were not for [all of this church stuff, I would have been ignorant]… not knowing the mysteries of God” (Mosiah 1:2-3).

I felt enlightened. If it were not for all of these things that I learn through the activites of the church, I would be missing out on all of these important truths. These truths, or mysteries of God, are key to our time here on Earth. They help guide me to my purpose and give me reason to stay on top of the many things we are asked to do.

photo from: ewallpapers.eu

3. A Wilderness Quest

A wilderness quest. It seems every person in life has one of these at one point in their life. It just takes that moment of crisis; that moment of uncertainty. It is then that a person must make a change. They must reach out to something greater than themselves— that is because the answer cannot be found within them. It comes from something higher than humanity itself. This experience happened to me a few years ago and just like others who came before me, it happened in a sacred moment with nature.The scene was my family’s cabin in Michigan. We own a small lake there and quite a few acres of land. It’s in the middle of nowhere and dirt roads are commonplace. This provides for an excellent opportunity to be alone.I had a lot of things on my mind at the time. I wasn’t sure what I should do with my life. It was causing me a good deal of stress and so I decided to take a walk around the woods  of the property. As I crossed a hill I saw the lake glittering through a section of the trees. The sun was bright but I was hidden amongst the shade of the trees around me. It was there in that moment that the scripture came into my head, “Peace, be still.” Mark 4:39. Jesus commands the wind and storm around him to be still. And as I looked around, I thought that nothing could be quite as still and calm as this. That spiritual experience in the woods helped me learn that everything is in His hands. And just as the winds and storms were calmed— I was calmed too.

What to Do.

1.    An Inner Struggle.

This hotel was not any hotel, there was a huge convention going on. The first floor was covered with animal skins and hundreds of people everywhere. I was with my teammates for our state soccer competition. My family was back home and I was completely alone. One of the older teammates of mine let me know, “I could do anything and no one would even know.” She was one of the girls that was the star of the game. I felt like I could call her my sister we were so close. She looked after me in each decision I made. As the convention went on and as our state competition went on, the team was doing so well that we made it into the finals. One of the four days we were there, we did not have to compete against any teams or play in any games. We were waiting for the final competitions. The coach at that time told us, “It was our time to rest and recover.” My coach went to her room and was occupied the whole day with the TV going on. Another dearest friend that I am close to was with me during this exciting “resting” time. We were called us twins even though she was a different race. We played the positions of center midfield and right midfield.  The older teammate I was also close to reminded us one last time that, “I could do anything and no one would even know.” The other teams were settled at this same hotel but they were of the opposite gender. They were planning a large party and made sure to let my teammates and I know. I felt like I was obligated to go because my teammates would all be there. As I contemplated more and more my sister of a friend and I decided that we would not go. Instead we had a blast together being the elevator operators at the massive hotel we stayed at for our state competition.

2.    Scripture, Personal and Powerful.

I was preparing for this exciting state tournament all year and could not wait. My last class to go to before I left was my religion class, Seminary. During the class we read a verse in 2 Nephi chapter 2, I had really pondered this verse and enjoyed the simplicity reminding me, “And they are free to choose liberty and eternal life, through the great Mediator of all men, or to choose captivity and death, according to the captivity and power of the devil; for he seeketh that all men might be miserable like unto himself.” After this experience at state I was lucky to remember this scripture. I saw that the next day none of my teammates that had gone to the party were doing well, and they all were sick or had “hang overs”. I noticed that in that verse it said “For he seeketh that all men might be miserable like unto himself.” Just as my other teammates wanted me to join them, I felt grateful to have contemplated and to have re-evaluated their question to turn down the invitation. Although I did not participate in the activities with that crowd that night or the “fun” as they called it, I was lucky to form a greater bond with my incredible friend. Most especially, I was at peace knowing that in the midst of the mist of darkness, I had found the path to follow that was the correct path. The peace that comes from a good choice far outweighs the momentary pleasure and is worth the cost. As an additional bonus, I noticed that I had not felt miserable the next day like they had, and I was able to play my best. We lost the game, but I won a great personal battle.

3.    A Wilderness Quest. 

Each year I go to the Wind River Mountains and enjoy every moment embracing the beauty of the world. It is a tradition to go on a long hike. One year as we were on our way back to our campground, I was the leader, and I realized that I had walked so fast that no one was behind me anymore. I was alone with my dog. I was frightened because I did not know the exact fork in the path to take. I kept trudging through the beautiful wilderness but got frightened because it had been longer then I thought it should have been. At that time I recalled that I could talk to God in a prayer. I felt silly at first but as I spoke, I noticed that I was no longer alone. I was no longer scared of finding my way back. I felt like Heavenly Father was helping me through this little struggle. I finally found the right path, and my dog and I were led straight back to camp. That very moment when I prayed out loud to God, I noticed that He was there, He was real, and He knows me and loves me. I was so thankful to get back to camp but expressed more gratitude as I became closer to my Father in Heaven

Driving, Dreaming, and Deliberating

An Inner Struggle

The winter semester was quickly drawing to a close and I had no idea what I was going to be doing for the summer. I had a job offer on the table, that I wasn’t super excited about but it did promise to pay me well, but was going to be a lot of hard work. On the flip side I was getting tired of school, and wanted to graduate sooner than later. I could just stay and work while taking a few classes so that I could move up my graduation date.

Neither was bad, but both had different benefits. I was torn as to what I should do, but time to make a decision was quickly drawing to close. It didn’t seem fair and I felt as though I was being forced into making a decision. I had been praying bout it for some time, but the answer just hadn’t come yet. I remember walking home from class one late spring afternoon and feeling impressed that I should give my dad a call. So I did and to my surprise so early in the afternoon he was available to talk. I don’t remember what specific words said, but I do remember the way that I felt. Whenever we talked about be staying and taking some summer classes while working at school I just felt good about it. I hadn’t felt this until now. So I knew that this was my answer and that this was what I was supposed to be doing. It wasn’t too soon either because finals were only a few days away.

Scripture, Personal, and Powerful

I was serving as a missionary in the Philippines Cebu Mission. It was a foreign land, with a new language, new food, and I got to spend all day with a complete stranger. Normally when put in perspective of two missionaries, that have never known each other you would expect that things should be just fine. Both are on missions which is good, and should be able to be united by a cause greater than themselves. If only this were true. I struggled at first. My trainer was a native Filipino and loved to work really hard. Normally that would sound like the perfect companion for me. However we had some very big disagreements on what working hard meant and how to best go about it.

Needless to say, there was a significant rift in our companionship which was effecting our work, or at the very least it was making me miserable. All I did was blame me companion for all of my hardships. One morning I was reading my scriptures during personal study, which I never really wanted to do, but thankfully I did. I was reading in 2 Nephi when Lehi was on his death bed, and giving his final message to his family. He told his sons to “arise from the dust and be men.” Those words hit me like a ton of bricks. I was being really selfish in immediately pointing a finger at someone outside of myself, and hadn’t even thought about what I could change to help improve the situation. It was as if the Lord was speaking directly to me, just when I need it most.

A Wilderness Quest

Growing up camping and scouting played a very big role in my life. Most weekends I was sleeping in a tent, and was outdoors doing something.  Everything hiking, mountain biking or sitting around the campfire playing guitar. Ever since I’ve come to college I have missed be out doors and camping a lot. Being a fulltime student and working part-time while also full-filling my church responsibilities makes life very busy. Then on top of that I don’t own any of my own camping equipment, and if did buy some, I would have nowhere to put it, and up until recently I didn’t have my own vehicle either. So I would feel trapped in civilization. Constantly surrounded by smart phones, laptops, computers etc.

Every so often I could almost feel the walls closing in on me, so I should simply turn of my phone, and start walking. I would have no destination in mind, but would just go wherever my feet would carry me. Now that I have a car, will get in my car and usually drive towards the mountains, but with no specific destination in mind. It gives me time to really be isolated from outside distractions so I can have my thoughts to myself, and gives me a chance to reflect on life. It’s hard not to look around and admire the beauties of nature and feel grateful for all that I have been blessed with. Upon returning home I always feel refreshed and closer to deity and further from my worldly worries that can at times seem to be all consuming.

His Name is Aaron. Aaron Liljenquist.

I turned 19 at the beginning of this month.  My 19th birthday was supposed to be monumental because it signified a big, new opportunity in my life.  That day, October 4th, 2014, was my mission eligibility date.  For years I have been counting down to my 'papers submission eligibility date,' or 120 days before my true eligibility date.  I've known that I wanted to serve a mission since I was a young girl!  Serving a full-time mission, attending BYU Provo, and getting sealed for time and eternity to the man of my dreams were my three childhood dreams.  I never wanted anything else.  As I look back, though, I can see that I never really asked God if it was right for me to serve a mission.  I definitely had, (and have), the desire to serve a full-time mission, but I never asked God to know if it was right.  Nevertheless, after BYU's Winter 2014 semester, I returned home for the summer, prepared to begin shopping, learning, and saying goodbye before serving my mission.

Nothing could stop me.

However... and there always seems to be a 'however'... I soon realized that I had a major problem.

His name is Aaron.  Aaron Liljenquist.

I attended one Family Home Evening activity in my home branch - ONE - and I found him.  We had one week to begin developing our friendship before he moved to Utah for a summer internship.  We went on a few dates, enjoyed our time together, and went our separate ways, each of us regretting the fact that our friendship/relationship seemed to be so short-lived.  However... we continued talking and texting from two states away.  Our friendship blossomed.  After about a month, we discussed my mission plans.  We weren't dating exclusively; we didn't even live in the same state.  He was my best friend, though, and I knew I could trust him.  I was feeling a lot of anxiety about my desire to serve.  One day, I would feel very strongly that I HAD to serve, and now.  The next, I thought that it was the wrong time for me.  This internal struggle got so intense that I was changing my mind every few minutes, literally.  I was really struggling to find peace about either decision because I never settled on one for more than a couple of minutes.  I was praying and pondering and studying and reading about serving a mission.  I talked with my bishop, with my parents, and with my closest friend and confidants.  Everybody had a different opinion.  I turned to God, trying to receive the answer I wanted.  Isn't going on a mission a good thing?  Shouldn't everybody go on a mission?  I really wanted to go!  Why wasn't God letting me know that He was proud of and supported my decision??

One day, as I sat in the soft green rocking chair in my room, Aaron and I talked on the phone, he listened patiently to both sides of my internal argument.  I talked quickly and passionately.  He was the perfect soundboard for all my other thoughts and concerns.  Why not this important decision?  Unfortunately, he did not want to give his opinion or influence mine.  He played devil's advocate, listening and asking and advising.  I became very worked up about the situation.  I was frustrated, confused, and totally without a plan.

Then, suddenly, I had a perfect, pure silence and peace fill my mind and heart.

I literally had no thoughts, concerns, ideas, or struggles.

I KNEW, with complete surety, that I had my answer.  It was not in the form of words, or a plan, or anything else concrete.  Rather, it was just an absolute surety that I must step forward with faith.  That I would make the right choice.  That I should not go on a mission.  THIS was my answer.

Receiving my answer was not the end of my struggles, however.  Everybody already knew that I had decided to serve a mission.  Everybody expected me to go.  Once I received my answer, and eventually started dating Aaron, people began talking.  

They said, "She's not going because she's not worthy."  

"She's not going because they're secretly engaged."  

"She's not going because he talked her out of it."  

"She's not going because she is being a typical teenager."

These accusations were hard to hear.  I did wonder, at times, if I made the right choice, if I really received that answer, if I was being as stupid as the people around me made me feel.  Fortunately, I had the scriptures to turn to.  I really devoured the scriptures during this time.  I read conference talks about remembering and acting upon past spiritual promptings and experiences.  These scriptures, talks, and articles strengthened my resolve to follow my prompting.  One of my favorite set of scriptures in the Book of Mormon is 3 Nephi 18:11-24.  This section of 3 Nephi discusses so many beautiful and applicable topics: repentance, partaking of the Sacrament, listening to the Spirit, obedience, prayer, preparation, being an example, denying Satan and temptation, asking and receiving, familial unity (in prayer), and service.  I learned so much from my scripture study during this time.

I came back to school instead of turning in my mission papers, obviously.  I'll admit, it was strange to work in the MTC on my birthday instead of being a sister missionary there as I had originally planned.  

But, things worked out, as they always do.

And yes, I am still totally and completely head over heels about Aaron.  :)

An Inspired Decision

Inner struggle

During a summer afternoon when I was sitting in an old brown couch, I felt overwhelmed due to many important decisions I had to make in such a crucial moment in my life. The brown couch was very comfortable; it had soft and fresh fabrics, which made it very appealing for people to sit there whenever they felt burdened. Once people had rest in this couch, it almost seemed that they have lightened their burdens by just sitting on it or perhaps falling sleep and forgetting about them. It came to pass that I had to choose which high school should I join, I had a couple of good options however, somehow I knew that this decision would affect the rest of my life in a positive or negative way. Being adolescent made the task even more complicated because of the proper ambiguous state in which childhood and adulthood are unclear or completely dependent on context.    

Many nebulous ideas crossed my mine when I proceed to exercise my faith coupled with my work by cutting small pieces of paper where I wrote all the options I had available. I vaguely remember some of them but one, the chosen one, Benemerito. One of the most special high schools that Mexico City had, I’m proud to say that I chose correctly and that I would totally do it over and over again. Even after my struggle that night, I found peace in my insights that comforted me just as the brown couch did many times.

However, this time was different my prayer opened the windows of heaven to me and I received the blessings described in the scriptures:

“I will…pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it” 

Scripture

Although I have had read the scriptures before, that day when I offered a sincere prayer to communicate with the Lord, I felt nothing but compelled to do right. After I read the testimony of Joseph Smith while he was reading the Epistle of James in the Bible: 

“If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him”

I also felt the force he described that penetrated his heart. Thus, I was motivated to ask for the wisdom I lacked in that moment of uncertainty. After, I received inspiration to know which school I should join; I understood the purpose behind my decision.

Soon after I started my senior year in high school, I met a man and I discovered what poets call love, an emotion that we cannot control, one that overwhelms logic and common sense. The love that changes your life forever, and no matter how hard you try, the feeling never goes away.  

Wilderness Quest

Finally, the life had taught me a lesson. Whenever I want to succeed in this life, I counsel with the Lord and ask for guidance, I’m sure he will always be available to answer my prayers. Nevertheless, in order to follow a counsel, one must develop trust. Building a relationship with the Lord prior to ask him for counsel will help me not just to trust on him but to accept his decision whatever this might be, which usually is the hardest part. Unless people have a desire to grow, to learn and to change, seek advice would be worthless. Therefore, my resolution is to be willing to grow, to learn, and to change to be humble enough and accept counsel from the Lord.