The Helping Hand

After reading the "Tell Me Who I Am" books of essays, I find myself remembering the first essay. In her essay "All We, Like Sheep", Denae Handy writes a hilarious essay about her experience administering medicine to sheep in the Peruvian Andes. She writes funny and detailed description of her experience with seemingly no larger point. However, in the last page Handy takes a simple story and relates a personal lesson she learned. The majority of her essay was not building up to any moral and just made for a great story and I liked how she waited until the end add a more spiritual touch. She began with humor and ended with a moral. In my essay, I imitate that style.

During the summer before my sophomore year of high school I learned that a two mile hike does not prepare you for a 22 mile hike, especially if you didn't even attend the preparatory 2 miler. Let's just say I was not in the best of shape that summer and hiking to prepare for hiking was not at the top of my summer fun list.

The young men of our ward always went on intense High Adventures: 50 mile hikes, 80 mile kayaking trips and submitting Mt. Everest (not really the last one but you would think they had with all their bragging). My Young Women's president, who was an outdoor junkie, decided that the young women would embark on our own "high adventure". The first attempt was a two mile canoe trip. My canoe partner and I had to be towed to shore. After that "high adventure", we secretly began calling our outdoor experiences "low adventures". However, our next hike would make us bite our tongues. Like really hard.

The trail was called the Pacific Crest Trail. Our destination was a small town near Lake Chelan, Washington. We began the hike on a rather flat part of the trail. With 40lbs packs and 85 degree weather, exhaustion was soon to show it ugly face but the start-of-the-trail optimism overshadowed the impending doom for a while. Our leaders told us the total distance was 11 miles, we would walk five the first day and six the second. HA! That was a joke. At mile five we had all run out of water but I mean its not like water is essential or anything.

The Dating Files

As the inspiration for this post, I used Chris Clark's "Uncoaching." I really liked the format he used for his essay, with bullet points and section headings. I also liked that he organized his stories as an unofficial advice piece, which is what I tried to re-create in my post.

First off, I need to preface this by saying that I’m no expert. I've just come to realize that I have some experience with the dating scene and from each of these experiences I've learned something about myself and about the male species. I also quite enjoyed delving into my personal journal, re-discovering many of these experiences and I hope that you will enjoy them as well.

PS Names have been changed to prevent potentially awkward moments.

Case #1: The Elusive Co-Worker

o   “Ugh. I do NOT want to get up for work. Wait, I think that HE is working today…” *Cue lightning fast race out of the door.* Am I really that pathetic? Well, yeah. I mean, I’m a cashier at an office supplies store. It’s not like there is really anything exciting happening. Take today for example: “You saved 36 cents on your ream of paper today! Who hoo!” Kill me now. So the only really exciting things are the people that I work with. They are a great bunch. Mostly. But especially Ben. Tall, dark, and handsome has never applied to anyone else so well. I definitely didn’t feel that I deserved his attention, but attention is what I got. We had been working together since fall semester started, but nothing more than some innocent inter-office flirting appeared. It took me receiving a mission call to live in Italy for 18 months to wake him up enough to ask me out in April, only weeks away from entering the MTC. From the outside, it seemed like the perfect night: sushi, a movie, dessert, all in the company of an extremely attractive person. And yet? It fell on deaf ears. Once the mystery was unraveled, the game was over and I was no longer interested in playing. But in every game, there is something to be learned:

·         A) Don’t judge a book by its cover even if the cover can be pretty revealing of the contents

·         B) The forbidden fruit always seems the sweetest, but that can also mean it’s too ripe and won’t last very long

·         Case #2: The Modern Day Romeo 

o   One bright fall Sunday afternoon, I thought I would adventure over to the local single’s ward event. Once a month, the ward holds an event lovingly dubbed “break the fast,” where you can complete your religious duty of going without food and water and search out for an eternal companion simultaneously.  Needless to say, I met a potential at said event. His sparkling blue eyes and wavy blonde locks caught my eye over the hideous orange cooler filled with water. Over the course of the next five days, we played The Game. Unfortunately, it was a short-lived game, as he had to return to the far-away land of Idaho to attend the university. In summary, we met Sunday, had a fake spontaneous date Monday, hung out on Tuesday, texted Wednesday a bit, and said good-bye Thursday, thus my modern-day Romeo. Although this experience was far from important or life-changing, I learned a lot:

·         A) Sometimes ward activities actually are helpful in finding potentials

·         B) Things, such as cars and boys, move really fast in Provo

·         C) Romeo and Juliet is a ridiculous story

A Seed to be Planted

We are taught that "through small and simple things do great things come to pass" and that the seed of faith will grow if we plant it in good soil. As I was sharing my essay I was hoping that my testimony of these things would be true. My essay is about my friends and so it only seemed fitting to me for me to share it with them.

I texted Austin a few weeks ago and asked him what he would think if I wrote an essay about our group of friends. We hadn't really talked in a while and so his response was simply, "If you want to". So it was only fitting for me to text him last week and tell him to check his facebook. He followed the link I had sent to him and after reading my essay he responded telling me it was great but not really saying much more about it. I thought that was the end of it because I didn't want to force it onto him (he doesn't take that kind of stuff well) but a few hours later he messaged me again with a picture and we started talking and catching up a bit. It was really nice to get to talk to my friend again and it shows that friendship will always be there if we continue to reach out in whatever form.

My best friend Erynn read my essay in some of it's earliest drafts. She is always so positive and complimentary that it felt safe to share it with throughout the process. She hadn't read the finished project when I shared it on her wall. Along with the link I thanked her for her help along the way.We talk about the essay every once in a while in passing. I'm not sure if it was because of my sharing that on her wall or simply because she is such a close friend but everyday since the day I shared that we've been texting each other motivational pictures to get us through finals week. It is always a relief to look at my phone and see one of those little messages from her. I am so grateful I got to share it with her and she says she really enjoyed reading it.

My friend Lance struggles with depression and has had more than one girlfriend who has used him and it wasn't necessarily the best position for him to be in. He recently decided to change his life, which for him and his stubbornness is an extremely difficult thing to do. We've shared our writings with each other since high school and we're very supportive of each other. Now that we're both off at college we don't talk as much but try to catch up at least once a week. He never understood why I was always so invested in the gospel, though he is also a member his testimony has struggled like any young adults would. I shared not just my essay but the entire website with him and asked him to read a couple of the essays, especially Mandy's in hopes that he would realize that deciding to change his life and pulling away from those people who were doing him harm would help him move forward with his life and really change. I'm not sure how he took it but he liked the post on his wall so I think it was a good idea.

Though I shared my essay and the entire website with a few more people these responses where typical of what I saw happen. It was a bit discouraging. I went into this feeling optimistic and excited to share the gospel in this new form but after a bit of sharing I began to get disappointed. I then remembered about faith, and that simply planting a seed can do so much. So this project has helped my testimony grow that perhaps through my sharing of simply things more and more people will be exposed to the gospel and it is  my hope is that as a result of that more people's hearts will be open to that.

People DO Listen

I began my sharing by first contacting members of my family and asking them to read through it and tell me what they thought. The reaction I got from my family members was awesome! My mom of course went on and on about how it touched her but I guess that it to be expected. What really surprised me were the responses from my brothers. My oldest brother, who is semi-active" called me right after reading it just to chat. He told me he felt the spirit while reading it and really enjoyed it. He even remarked that he really liked the comparison to the BOM I made. I had another brother read it and after he told me that he felt the spirit quite strongly and it helped him make a difficult decision of what he should study in school. He said that he has been thinking about doing something in the medical field but didn't think he could handle medical school. He said that he loved the experience I showed and felt like he should go into the nursing field. 

After the response I gained from my family I felt better about myself so decided to share it with the people on my plan but also with others that I wasn't planning on sharing with. One individual is named Alex. He and I danced ballet with each other for years and are great friends. He is a non-member so I thought it would be great to get his perspective. He and I talked after he read it and he said that he felt a strong feeling while reading it that made him get emotional. I didn't bring up anything about the spirit but plan on meeting up with him over Christmas break and talking about it then in a more personal setting.

I also shared the concept of our class essays in Sunday school. I wan't planning on anything coming out of it, I just brought it up in a comment I made. Following the lesson I had two guys in my ward walk up to me and ask me about the essays. We talked about them and then they asked me for the link because they had some friends who could benefit from stories that have religious undertones but aren't super explicit. I gave them the link to my essay and told them to read the other essays too. They seemed really excited about the concept and mentioned that they were interested in doing something similar to help share the gospel.

I was shocked about the response I got from my essay and look forward to continuing using writing as a tool for missionary work.

Spreading the Word

I have had some great experiences sharing my personal essay with my friends and family. At first I was a little nervous about sharing it with so many people but I became more comfortable the more I shared it. Connecting with old friends was really neat and this was a fun way to catch up with them.

The experience with sharing the personal essay through social media was new for me. I first sent my essay to my family and some friends through email. I had talked to them previously about the essay I was writing and a lot of them wanted me to send it to them when I was finished. I received some great feedback and some of my family were really interested because they learned things about me that they hadn't known before.

After emailing my essay to my friends and family, I decided to share it with people that were directly involved or mentioned within. One of the people I shared it with was part of a family of 17 kids that I mentioned in my essay. I sent him a personal message on Facebook. He really liked it and we actually talked about getting lunch sometime to catch up. It has been several years since I spoke with him and I think it would be neat to see him and reconnect. 

It was also a good time to call my sister-in-law and spend some time catching up. We talked a little bit about her first few weeks being married and her new job. After talking for a bit, I mentioned that a friend in one of my classes worked in home health care and wrote a really neat essay about Jeremy’s last moments with an elderly woman on her death bed. My sister-in-law is a CNA and was actually in between homes when I called. I sent her the link via text message and she was excited to read it. I am sure that she will be able to relate to Jeremy’s experience.

I actually plan on continuing to share my essay with others even after the class has ended. There are many people who I haven't thought of yet and I am sure many people could benefit from it down the road. Over the Christmas break I will be seeing some of the people I shared my essay with. I am sure there will be some discussion about what they read. 

Nine Days Difference

An essay by Ally Jensen

Two funerals, nine days, and a lifetime of changes.

From City to City

My world was turned upside down as a youth. Find out how.

Action Plan for Connecting

1.      My wife: I will probably read this out loud with my wife Kennedy. She is very supportive of me and always encourages me to do my best. She attended the funeral of the woman I wrote about and would really enjoy to get a more detailed description of my experience.

    My brother: Jonathan, my older brother, lives in Oregon and doesn't really participate in family events. He works long hours and spends the remainder of his time with his wife and kids. I am not sure how interested he would be in reading a personal essay but he would watch the video clip. I will email him the link to my video and personal essay. Who knows, maybe he will be interested enough to watch the clip and read the essay.

3.       Tyler. My friend Tyler used to be active in the church but after coming home early from his mission he has drifted away. He doesn't use Facebook so I will go to his home and share it with him. He wife is also very inactive and has strong issues with the church. I will also invite her to read my essay and see what she thinks. Maybe it will entice her to read the Book of Mormon.

4.       Jake. He is a non-member friend whom I lived with for 5 months while working out of state. We talked about the church a couple of time and he showed some real interest. I would like to mail him a copy of my essay along with a Book of Mormon. I have wanted to share the scriptures with him for a while; this would be a great opportunity.

5.       Mongolian FB friends. I have a lot of Facebook friends living in Mongolia including members and non-members. I think it would be awesome to translate my essay into Mongolian and share it to my wall a couple times. I could ask them to share it on their walls and have them include a link to LDS.org. This would allow me to get in touch with old friends and hopefully make new ones.

6.       Melinda. Melinda was my dance teacher in High School. She was very active in the church but after she got married had a falling out and gave up. She recently lost her father to old age and I think would enjoy reading this. I don’t know that I would lead her to read the Book of Mormon but it might help her feel the spirit and remind her of her past. She is on twitter, I will connect with her there and then go visit her and drop it off at her dance studio.  

Sharing a Good Time

      In sharing my personal essay there are three specific individuals that immediately came to mind. The first of which is Bro Miller. He is basically the insperiation fo my essay, and it duscusses many of the experiences that we had together and the many things that I've learned from him. Next is my best friend Zach. After our mission he joined the marines and I don't get to see him much, but he could definately apperciate the story, serveral parts he was even present for as well. Last of the individuals that I'm going to mention by name is my good friend from high school named Corey. He was baptized right after we graduated and then went on a mission and has since been married in the temple. It gives me a good excuse for me to connect with him agian.

      Next I'm not going to be posting this essay on facebook, but I will tweet it out to any of my followers that want to take a read, as well as include some LDS hashtags so that even those that I don't know could take a look at if they so choose. Also I'm going to let my mom and sister post my essay or maybe at least links to it so that my extended family can take a look at it as well.

      When it comes to social networks offline, I'm not someone who tipically writes anything period, and so I'm kind of shy to go and just pass it out in the Wilkinson Center or even submit it to the Daily Universe. I have however been pondering using this in a Sunday School or Elders Quorum lesson on Sundays. This would be easiest by simply playing Tori's video about my essay just to get a taste, and then giving the the link to the essay if they want to read it. Other than that I'll probably send email it to a few of my companions from my mission as well as a couple of investigators/members from my mission if I can find a way to get in touch with them. 

   Finally I'm planning on sharing Ryan Parker's essay with my dad. I'm not exactly sure why, but I just had the feeling that he would be able to connect really well with Ryan's essay, so I'm going to share it to him when I go home for Christmas. I also think my sister-in-law Mikjan would appreicate it and could learn from it since she has been through at lot resently and could use a spriritual boost. Also if she feels inclinded she could end up sharing our videos and essays with the seminary class that she teaches.

The Blueprint For Sharing

1.     My good friend,  KF. She got close to getting baptized while I was gone on my mission, but eventually didn’t go through with it. I think she would appreciate my personal essay that describes a little bit what I went through on my mission, and hopefully touch her.

2.     A member in our Ward, SG. She runs a pretty popular instagram account called Mormon Faces. I would like to share the playlist of the videos with her and try to get our project featured on this account to reach close to 6000 people.

3.     One of my favorite teachers, Mr. S. He was my AP US History teacher when I was a junior in High School, and he was my favorite teacher. I also nominated him and he came to a Youth Church Awards ceremony for teachers. He was always supportive of my mission, and I think he would like to read a short essay about my experiences.

4.     My other favorite teacher and golf coach, Mr. T. I knew him all 4 years in high school and spent a lot of time outside of school with him. He is a part of a part-member family, as his wife and daughter are members of the Church. He knows a lot about the Church and missions, and I would like to share my essay with him.

5.     My good friend, TB. He has been my best friend for a long time, and we were able to get him to take a couple of the missionary lessons before I left on my mission, and he knows our beliefs pretty well. He also went to Africa for 2 weeks to do a church like mission, so I think he would enjoy reading my essay about me serving in Africa.

6.     My little brother, KB. I think he would enjoy Krista Beatie’s because he himself pretty soon will be receiving his mission call. I think it would be cool for him to get a kind of insight of the feelings that come with receiving a mission call and opening one as well.

7.     My roommate, PW. His life has been affected by suicide, so I think it would be good for him to read Ryan Well’s essay, which talks about his grandmother and suicide. This could lead to a better emotional connection with my roommate and a very constructive open conversation amongst us. It could really help him with his past experiences and find hope.

In the Details

I was hesitant to share my personal essay with my girlfriend, Jessica, knowing that she was much more familiar with the actual story of the essay than most of the people who read it would. She's met Elder Clark and the Moore family and the mission president (all names having been changed for the story) and she's heard about as much as I could share with her about the experience.

Despite all that, she still found the essay educational about me and my experience with the event.

She felt that the little details of the essay, the way each character spoke, and the visualizations of the front yard and the wheat field really took her there and helped her understand even more about how I handled the situation. She could feel my sadness just through the way it was described.

She noted that I didn't go into detail about the event but understood why since she knows that the event is a sensitive and personal and probably doesn't belong on an internet blog in any more detail than I've given. She also wondered about the Book of Mormon reference and how it might need to be connected more to the rest of the essay instead of just a singular reference.

I probably could've found someone to read this who was more removed from the event and those who were affected by it, but I felt that having someone who did know about it would help me know if I was doing it justice or leaving out too much detail. Despite Jessica's likely biased opinion, I feel that I've done a good enough job of accomplishing that. 

Personal Essay Video Experiment (Take 1)

This was surprisingly really hard for me. I do not like making videos, or even taking pictures. Ha, so I obviously will need to practice and maybe script something for the final video (whichever way we decide to do it)...because I lost all of my thoughts and jumbled my words. But, I did it. So, here ya go--the video I made about Elijah's essay "Lost and Found" 

Finding Courage in a Friend

I chose to share my personal essay with my roommate who is not a member of the Church. Because our essays aim to include the Book of Mormon along with our personal experience, I thought she would provide a good perspective because she is not familiar with Book of Mormon stories and she would tell me if something didn't flow. Sometimes as members of the Church we forget that not everyone knows these accounts and we need to be mindful of that if our goal is to appeal to people who do not share our faith. 

We began with this draft of my essay. She said she liked the part with the dream; she said the descriptions were clear and helped her feel my emotion. However, she said starting with the story of Lehi turned her off and she suggested I bring in the religious aspect at the end. She also said she wished the essay gave more background on my relationship. While she knows the story with that guy, she said she didn't feel like the second draft gave the reader enough reasoning for why I would experience such a dream.

After hearing her suggestions, I read the first draft to her. I didn’t originally post it on our blog because I was worried it was too personal (I’ve gone back and taken out some identifying details). She loved this draft. She said it was considerably more powerful because it shows I’m a real person and it shows how much pain I was in. She said the first draft I read to her felt preachy and out of place, but the way I incorporated the Book of Mormon in the second reading was significantly more compelling.

Reading the original draft to her was hard; my voice was shaking and I felt really vulnerable. But seeing how moved she was and hearing how she never realized how badly I was hurting made me realize I have something in that draft to build on. That feeling was confirmed when she said she felt it could help people who are in similar relationships (and even people who receive dreams from God) to talk about what they’re going through. This is a story I need to share, not only to help myself heal, but also to help other people understand what it feels like to be in an emotionally abusive relationship. 

Finally Opening Up

My best friend and I at a beach in
Mexico.

Reading my personal essay to my friend, I was really nervous about what she would think. I don't normally talk about the subject I chose to write about, and she had moved before the scenario happened. She never really knew what I was feeling or what was going on because I had distanced myself from my friends, because in my 15 year old mind, that was being strong.

After running Color Me Rad.

She really enjoyed hearing my personal essay, and because she has been in my house before, she was able to have a better picture of my house. Even though she knew the design of my house, she still had a hard time taking in all the detail. She suggested I improve on the flow of my detail, and maybe change a few words to create a better description.

Finding hideous clothes for each other
and modeling them.

As I was reading out loud, I noted a few places where the flow between paragraphs needed a little fixing up as well. I needed to let loose on this paper, and really get through what I was trying to show. The essay seemed boring, even though there was a lot of detail. In reading it out loud, I even got a little bored. I'm going to see how maybe changing some details may make it, well, less boring.

After I was done reading the essay to her in the parking lot of a movie theater late last night, she asked a few questions about how I felt during that situation, and what was really going on. She had tried to be a good friend to me during that time, checking up on me and making sure I was okay, but I had pushed her out. I was always "okay." So it was nice to finally be able to open up to her, and deepen our relationship.

Ready for Marriange?

Personal essays… personal essays…

You know, the problem with sharing personal essays— is well, they’re personal.

Photo from: christianpost.com

I decided to share my essay with my fiancée. We’ve dated for a year now and we have gotten know each other extremely well! Or at least I thought so. 

As she read my personal essay all she kept repeating over and over was, “I thought I knew everything about you!” and “Why have you never told me about this?”

Suffice it to say it actually rattled us a bit. How much do we TRULY know about each other? Do we know each other as well as we thought we did? Are we ready to get married? Are we actually ready?

The personal essay is a form that is so unique and intimate that it provides a space for reflection that even fiancées don’t tend to bridge frequently. After contemplating all this, the only lame excuse I could give her was, “well, it never came up.” 

She gave some advice on the rhetorical side of my personal essay.
She explained that some symbolism was vague and I would be better off to state it more fluidly with the rest of the tone of my paper.
Another idea she had was to change the timing at which I interjected thoughts of the Book of Mormon within the events of the story.
 I love the advice she gave and I’ll be sure to implement them for the final draft of my essay. 

Sharing a Cultural Experience

I was able to share my personal essay with my roommates.  I have lived with them for 4 years now and they know what comes with preparing for luau.  When I was able to connect that back to my grandparents as well at an experience from the Book of Mormon they really enjoyed it.  They were also able to think of their own experiences with their grandparents.  We spent the next 20 to 30 minutes talking about different experiences we all had with our grandparents.  It was really neat to have that experience with them.

Some advice they gave me was to be consistent with relating the Book of Mormon experience throughout my whole personal essay not just at the beginning or at the end.  But not to be too pushy about it but making small remarks to it.  Ironic enough, I'm performing in BYU Luau tonight and tomorrow night at 7pm in the Wilkinson Ballroom.  There everyone who dances is participating in my cultural experience and having one of their own.

Checkmate

“You don’t have any kids?” he questioned me with a hint of sarcastic surprise in his voice. Followed closely by “and come to think of it, you don’t even have any grandkids!” I couldn’t suppress the laughter that was bubbling inside of me and it began to slip out as I tried to remain focused and serious.

Then the first match ended almost before it began. I should have seen it coming. The first pawn of mine that was taken resulted in check-mate. So as suddenly as we started it was over. I don’t take losing easily and wasn’t going to let that happen again, despite my lack of experience in playing chess, compared to the 72 year old retired English teacher with an afro that was sitting across from me. 

The pieces were quickly retest which wasn’t hard considering the brevity of the first match. The board was then rotated and play continued. Things were different this time. Play progressed, a queen was captured, castles consumed, knights knocked out, and bishops bagged until finally I had his king trapped with no means of escape. My cunning and daring strategy had somehow outwitted the years of experience that guided the pieces opposite of mine.

Anyone else observing this scene would probably have difficulty believing their eyes. Here is an old man playing chess, which isn’t a surprise, but the fact that his opponent was barely a third of his age. Not a common occurrence especially for someone my age to be there by choice and not out of obligation or any other ulterior motives. I am old enough to be his grandson, and if I were common to my generation I would expect to mercilessly distract by my phone and other outside forces. This was different though. I had the weekend from work, and I hadn’t seen one of my best friends in quick a while, and decided to make the quick trip to pay him a visit.

From an outsider’s perspective we had very little in common at all, but they couldn’t be more wrong. Despite the many years that separated us we got along great. Had we been born in the same decade we would have been inseparable, but we weren’t going to let that stop us. We both had the same sarcastic and ridiculous sense of humor, loved music and played the guitar, and liked to make fun of each other and others. Despite our physical age differences, our minds are both about the age of 11, which makes things almost too fun at times.

Once upon a time we were both working janitorial on weeknights cleaning the offices at a truck depot. It was probably the nastiest job that I have ever had. Especially the bathrooms, which were at times tainted by trucker blowouts. He loved to tell me not to put things in my mouth, as if I were the one that was 2 years old. One night he had me put new urinal cakes in the men’s bathroom. He had me three and looked at me very sternly and said, “These aren’t Altoids, SO don’t put them in your mouth, cause they will take your breath away!” This was followed by both of us bursting into laughter.

The only thing that made cleaning bearable, and the only reason I was even there was because we had so much fun together. One night my “supervisor/boss” strategically hid himself in one of the back offices that I always got around to vacuuming last. As I opened the door I found a dirty rag flying at my face, and heard an unearthly yell. Needless to say I was quite startled and once I had my wits about be I found the old man literally rolling around on the dirty carpet with short bursts of giggling escaping at sporadic intervals. 

This is only one example of the many adventures that shaped and forged this unlikely friendship. Despite all of the fun and practical jokes, there were times when we would discuss more serious in an often light hearted way, but knowing that deep down we both recognized the true importance of these more heavy matters. It is also said that those that work and serve together develop some of the strongest bonds of friendship. There we many experiences together serving some widowed women and sick seniors that lived in our area in various ways. Not only was he a good friend, but a great example as well. There is more to life than just fun and games all the time.

As with most friendships time and circumstance would take us far from each other. Even with the advancements in modern communication, we would only occasionally talk to each other. However whenever circumstances and time would permit, we would make plans to go get a cheap senior discounted meal at a fast food restaurant, or for the first time, a friendly and competitive match of chess. Either way, whenever we would get together it was awesome because we both would be practically the same person that we were the previous time. It’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks and when you’re as hard headed as me, change is slow, painful and far between. I am always looking forward to the time that we get together. I also start to feel a bit older too when, we get to reminisce about the many good times that we have had in the past.

My mom would always tell me when I was growing up that friends would come and go but family is the only thing that will last. While she was right about basically everything including this there is one exception. Every other friend that I’ve had growing up until now that has been relatively close to my age has moved on for some reason or another. Marriage, graduating, military, and careers all seem to pull those friends of mine from my life. However I can truly say that I’ve had one friend that despite distance and changes in my life has always been there, and can without a doubt make me laugh. I don’t even want to think about the time that will come when he literally won’t be around anymore. At any rate before I know it I’ll be the one on the experienced side of the chess board, reliving my younger years with some punk kind.

Touching Lives

Revision: After reading through comments and meeting with Dr. Burton I have placed a larger emphasis on the aspect of The Book of Mormon I incorporated and focused more on Jared's story than the story of his mother.

Monday through Friday, during the 2009-2010 and 2010-2011 school years I would walk into a classroom filled with other high schoolers of all ages each morning. Our teacher would sit in the middle of the long line of tables, with her large print scriptures, each verse highlighted in a different color that I’m sure meant something to her. The room was always filled with shining happy faces. We were the lucky 7:30 class, which starkly contrasts with the emotion filling my 5:45 class the two following school years. Of course there were some faces with the clear disdain for their parents forcing them to come that morning, but the smiles from the other students of the class typically drowned out the dreariness emanating from those few rebellious bodies.

One smile in particular always shined brightly, even though you wouldn’t expect it. His name was Jared. He was a year older than me, had shaggy brown hair, spoke American Sign Language, and always had a friendly demeanor.

I remember in particular the days that we would play competitive games in class, scripture chases, a game where you were in a race against other classmates to try and find the specified scripture the quickest, were the most common element in these games. Jared would get so involved in these that you just had to smile at his enthusiasm and team support. He turned out to be a great friend of mine.

My sophomore year things changed, more specifically, Jared changed. His change came because his mother died while in heart surgery that year. He obviously was overtaken by sadness and remorse for the immediate period after her death, but as he came out of those emotions, he was more compassionate, he had more love in his eyes for those around him. His cheery disposition returned and we spent the rest of the year laughing through our 7:30 class.

I was filled with sadness when it was announced that the 7:30 class would be canceled and I would have to go to a class with a different group of people for my last two years of high school. I would still see the members of my prier class in school though, so I would be alright. However, I came to find out that Jared and his family would be moving to Arizona, so I would no longer see him at school. I was sad as he walked out of my life and the joyous spirit he always brought left our school community.

Life went on though. I had other friends who brought true joy and happiness to my life. I did miss Jared, but I saw he was doing well in Arizona; I was happy for him.

But one day it all changed.

Facebook posts started surfacing on his wall, “I can’t believe you’re gone.” I read through them and froze in complete and utter fear. Was he really gone? He was a senior in high school, preparing to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. How could he be gone? I was in a state of denial. 

I’m sure this was how King Limhi’s wife felt when she was told her husband was dead. King Limhi is a king in The Book of Mormon. He was thought to be dead by all of his servants, so they informed the queen of his death. She stood in complete denial of the situation at hand. She could not bring herself to believe or admit that he was gone. She searched out prophets to receive the answer to her question, "Is he really dead?" Looking back on the situation, I followed this reaction pattern in my own story.

It was a time of complete confusion. I didn’t know what was true and if he was really gone. But, I felt I knew there was no way Jared could be gone just like that. I couldn’t come to accept it until his brother posted that it was true. His brother was the "prophet" that answered my denying heart. He really was gone. His heart had failed him and he passed away while taking an afternoon nap one day.

I cried. I felt empty. I didn’t know how someone so full of life could be gone in an instant. He hadn’t even graduated high school yet.

At his funeral, I sat holding the hand of one my best friends, weeping for the life that was lost. I listened to the people who spoke of him and looked around at the hundreds of people that filled the room to support his family and to celebrate his life. People from school, church, karate, the ASL community, and more filled the chapel of the church that day. I don’t think anyone made it through the funeral with a dry eye.

During his funeral I realized that in his short life Jared had effected so many people, he had accomplished so much, he had made such a difference. We don’t know the span of our life or the lives of those around us, but that doesn't mean we should live in fear of it being cut short. We should live as Jared did, with a smile on our face and with all the gusto we can muster. 

Till We Meet Again

The sun shined down on our youthful faces as we played in the open field.

“Red rover, red rover!” We called, making the request for the next friend to run across the open distance and fling themselves upon our clasped hands in the hopes of breaking through the connection. Shrieks of joy and cries of encouragement filled the open air. Thistles coated my socks by the time my sister came to collect me.

“It’s time to start,” she told me softly. Sensing her somber tone, I followed her into the funeral home to say our final farewells to my grandmother. It was dark and uncomfortable in the old musty building. It smelled like death (a scent I related to moth balls) and the floral arrangements did little to mask the scent.

My feet scraped lightly on the ground as I swung my legs back and forth carelessly. My family all sat on the same pew, me sandwiched in between my older sister and my father. A hand settled on my knee, a silent reminder to be patient until the very end. Obediently, I stopped swinging my legs and instead focused on looking at the people around me.

Most of them I had never met before and I found them interesting to look at. There was a lady in the back wearing the most absurd hat and a man in the row opposite of us wearing one of those silly ties they wear in the western shows my dad watched sometimes. Returning my attention back to the front, I curiously looked at the coffin where my grandmother lay. She looked just like always, old, wrinkly, and grumpy.

The goodbye to my grandmother was simple. By the time I was old enough to remember her she had already lost her mind. The few times we spent together consisted of repeating the same conversation over and over for hours. I did not feel a great loss at her departure from this earth and the moment the service was over I joined the flock of children playing in the field once again.

Fast forward to nine days later.

Again we gathered as a family, but this time to say goodbye to my dad. His death was unexpected and startling to all who knew him; a heart attack that came out of nowhere.

 It had only been two weeks since my grandmother’s funeral, but somewhere in that time I had matured from my childish ten-year-old self into a young adult who was lost in a sea of grief. Thrust into this world that was cruel and terrifying, I refused to be left alone.

The children called to me, their voices which seemed so tempting two weeks before, held no appeal for me now. I would not leave the comfort of those closest to me.

Although I felt completely lost, we were not alone. I can hear the voices of the congregation singing, the stake center chapel and cultural hall both filled to the brim with people coming to mourn with those who mourn.

The melody flowed over me, consuming every facet of my mind.

God be with you till we meet again

The words were too difficult for me to get out. Emotions overwhelmed me and I wept for the loss of the man who was my best friend.

Words came from those who gathered, many with tears streaming down their faces as they hugged me and whispered in my ear: “Everything will be okay.”

I didn’t believe them.

Their words of comfort held the opposite effect on me. Instead of feeling relief I felt distress. How on earth was this person able to understand what I was feeling and then on top of that believe that it was going to be okay? They lost a friend but I had lost much more than that.

They didn’t understand.

My best friend came over a couple days before the funeral. She brought a little game that I was extremely fond of playing when I went to her house and told me “you can borrow it until you feel better.”

I was angry.

How could she pretend that a dumb game would help me feel better? It’s the thought that counts, but it often doesn’t help.

I cried. A lot.

It was overcast but warm as we gathered at the gravesite after the funeral service and again the familiar tune was played.

God be with you till we meet again

Never before had I understood the sorrow that Moroni must have felt when his people and his family were destroyed. Loneliness consumed my entire being and I didn’t understand why good people must die before their time.

Till we meet, till we meet,

Till we meet at Jesus’ feet,

Till we meet, till we meet,

God be with you till we meet again.

These words that we were singing as a final farewell to my father were not meant to come from us but to comfort us.

I heard them as from the voice of my dad, comforting me once more even though he was already gone.

God be with you till we meet again

When life’s perils thick confound you

Put his arms unfailing round you

God be with you till we meet again