Prayer Has No Life Bar

Chances are, if you've ever played a video game before, then you know what a life bar is.  Remember?  That slim rectangle at the top of the screen, showing you how many more hits you can take before you're out for the count?  The one you subconsciously keep track of as your eyes move over other portions of the screen?  And when it gets low, you do everything you can to save that precious last bit of life (including yelling at the inanimate characters and controllers).  Oh look, it most often resembles these:

Switching gears here; let me tell you an awesome story.  Well, it was awesome for me, so I hope you can join in my gratitude for it, as it really has changed my life.

At the end of this semester I was in a fix.  Final exams came down hard on my sleep schedule, energy levels, and overall well-being.  I was sick, I was tired, I was busy, and yet I was simply just like every other college student trying to scrape by with the best possible GPA for their given situation.  I had a full tuition scholarship to maintain, and a grad school dream keeping me going, so I worked; I worked hard.  I worked on remembering which genus of over fifty species of bacteria, protists, and fungi belonged to which symptoms and characteristics;  I worked on head snaps and a strong frame while dancing tango;  I worked on memorizing quotes from Church leaders and gospel principles I had studied throughout the semester;  I worked on improving my knowledge of the history of dance and the progression of styles from lineage-based societies to modern, ballroom, ballet, and others of today;  I worked on understanding the laws and equations behind momentum, energy, torque, waves, and heat.  I worked so hard, and yet I could not do it.  Not on my own.

My first moment of insufficiency arrived: I needed an 83% in order to obtain an A in my four credit Microbiology class.  I felt like I would never be able to remember and understand all of the required material in the amount of time given, and I knew if I tried I would burn myself out before I even took the exam.  In my time of trouble, I turned to the sky.  I prayed.  I prayed to be able to do my best, to have an open mind, and to accept the grade I would receive without beating myself up.  And then I took the test.  After, I handed in my exam, and walked out and looked up at the BYU Testing Center screen for my score: I got an 84%.  I got the A.  I almost cried.

My second moment came along after I had partially burned myself out studying for General Physics 1.  I love math and science, but have never taken a physics course before, so I did not know that this subject somehow did not come easily to me.  It was humbling, really.  But the final exam staring me in the face was more terrifying than anything.  I knew the highest grade I could receive in the course was a B, which I was not too pleased about, but if I could just get a 67% on the final, then I would not have to face a B-.  I know, I know; how hard could it be to get a 67%?  Well, for me, it was hard to do anything good in that class.  So I prayed again.  I prayed my little heart out.  And I took that test and tried my best, and almost four hours later my hand shook as I gave my bubble sheet to the scanner.  I got a 69%.  I got the B.  This time, I really did cry.

They say the third time is a charm.  I don't actually know what that means, but in this case it was my third moment of need that let me learn the lesson being taught this whole time.  I had finished all of my finals and proceeded to calculate my final GPA, trying to see if I would be able to retain my scholarship.  I calculated once, twice, thrice, but the numbers stayed the same.  I didn't meet the cut-off point.  Had all of my hard work been for nothing?  The answer to this question is "no", because my GPA does not determine my self-worth or talents or ability to serve the world, but I wasn't about to give up.  I emailed professors, looked through past assignments, and read through all of the syllabi to see if there was any chance.  If just one of my two A-'s was changed to an A, I would have the GPA necessary to be eligible for full tuition scholarship reconsideration.  Guess what I did?  You got it, I got down on my knees and offered up a humble prayer.

I knew this was not the end of the world, and I knew I could most certainly survive if this didn't work out, but I also knew that the God I worship is my Heavenly Father.  I know He cares about what I care about, no matter how small or trivial.  I know He listens to my prayers earnestly and diligently, and helps and guides me in every way.  I know He helped me before, but it was here I was unsure He would help me again so soon.  Hadn't I used up all of my prayers?  Didn't my prayer life bar need to be recharged?  Couldn't you only have so many crisis-conquering miracles in a period of time before they needed to take a vacation?  This is seriously the way I thought.  Odd?  Yeah, I usually am, but I learned my lesson this time.  Prayer has no life bar.  Prayer never stops being an effective way of communicating with our Father in Heaven, no matter how many times a day you use it, even in desperation; especially in desperation.

My prayers were answered, and I am now eligible for reconsideration for a full tuition scholarship.  It is by grace I have seen miracles, and it is by grace I will continue to be blessed.  Even if my prayers were answered in a different way, meaning even if I did not end this semester in the way I desired, I know that all things happen for a reason.  I know that as my desires become aligned with His will, I will be happy no matter what comes my way.

I've just got to keep praying.

Months in the Making: The Mission Decision

On September 6th I received my mission call to the Uruguay Montevideo Mission.  On September 21st I had the great privilege and blessing of receiving my endowment in the Provo Utah Temple.  Previous to, during, and after this latter event, I had been pondering my call to serve and if it was the Lord's will for me to go to Uruguay, or if it was His will for me to stay here in Provo.  I have spent the past three months pondering this pending decision.  I have prayed, studied the words of prophets both modern and of old, pondered upon my patriarchal blessing, fasted, received priesthood blessings, and gave particular and sufficient thought to which path I shall take at this fork in the road.  I genuinely want to do what God wants me to do, and I have the feeling that He is genuinely pleased with whichever path I take.  I have the feeling He is leaving this up to me, which is scary and really cool at the same time.  He trusts me to make my decisions and to continue to follow His plan and the example of His Son regardless of the road I take.

This past Wednesday I went on a date with a young man from my ward.  We went to an art exhibit in the BYU Museum of Art called Sacred Gifts, with paintings of Christ from Denmark and other wonderful places.  As we talked about the figures in a particular painting, we turned to the topic of decisions.  Lots of people today condemn mistakes, but mistakes are how we learn.  We cannot let the fear of mistakes get in the way of taking action, as we came to this Earth to take action and develop our faith in God the Father and His Son Jesus Christ and the plan They have laid out for us.
As we spoke, a talk came to mind.  I do not remember where or when I read or heard this talk, but when I got home I looked it up.  The talk is called Wrong Roads and Revelation, and was given by Matthew Holland, son of Jeffrey R. Holland.

The story goes that Matthew and his dad were driving a path in the evening, and came to a fork in the road.  They could not remember which way they had come from, and as the darkness was deepening they knew they had to make a decision quickly.  Father and son bowed their heads in prayer, asking for guidance.  Upon opening their eyes they agreed with one another that they felt they should take the left fork.  Ten minutes down the road they came to a dead end.  They turned around, returned to the fork, and now took the right path.
As they drove home, the young boy was troubled.  Why had they felt the distinct impression that they should take the left fork, if it was the right fork that would take them home?  Jeffrey Holland told his son that if they had taken the right path on the first try, they may have driven the road in doubt and fear that they had chosen poorly.  Perhaps their doubts would have become so strong that they would have turned around as the path lengthened out in front of them and the night fell.  However, by taking the left path to the dead end first, they could then take the right path with full confidence knowing it would take them home all in due time.

I feel this story can be applied to my decision with serving a full time mission.  I was fully prepared and willing to serve the Lord, and I still am.  It seems to me that I had to learn a few things first by submitting my mission papers and receiving my call, and then I could recognize that the other fork seemed a better choice for me at this time.  The mission road was not a dead end, as I formed many good habits and rid myself of unpleasing ones in the process of preparing myself for a mission.  I also had the opportunity to go through the temple and serve others with new-found understanding, motivation, and love.  But in this case I most certainly had to go through B to get from A to C.  I had to go through this experience of taking the left fork in order to take the right fork with more confidence, as well as a better understanding and more devoted heart.

I am so grateful that my Heavenly Father lets me make decisions.  I am beyond grateful that He has guided and helped me along this winding road, and I know He will continue to offer me His help and advice as I continue down this path.

So for now, I am not going on a mission to Uruguay.  I do indeed have a mission call to be a disciple of Christ, and I am working on perfecting myself, redeeming the dead, preaching the gospel in other ways, and caring for the poor and needy through service and love.  I am open to the twists and turns this path will take me on, and I am so so SO happy and thankful I have been blessed with wonderful parents, sisters, and friends to help me on this delightful journey of life.

Even if I end up slipping on the rougher patches, I think I can handle the adventures headed my way.

I Was Saved For This

Yesterday a group of young ladies and I were conversing on how we can learn to love God more than the world.  We acknowledged the many distractions that can separate us from our Father when not placed in the right order on our priority lists, such as school work, social lives, exercise, media, and even sleep.  One distraction I would like to expand upon is vanity.

Some days we just like to look nice; that cute outfit and good hair day help us feel confident and content, but what happens when we place the world's opinion above God's?  What happens when we wake up early in the morning to do our hair, make up, and clothes, but neglect to pray and study the word of God?  What happens when we spend the majority of our money on the latest trends and fads instead of investing in our future and serving others?  What happens when we cave in to peer pressure and turn our backs on righteous paths?

As we spoke of this I asked myself, "Would I rather be known for my trendy style and modern ways, or remembered for my kind heart and serving hands?"  It really comes down to where you want your legacy to reside.  What kind of person you want to be remembered as, and even if you want to be remembered, can influence your present actions.  I don't know about you, but I sure would like to make the world a better place for at least a few people, even if that means living my life off the beaten path of modern thinking and possessions.

Over one hundred and fifty years ago, Latter-day Saint pioneers trekked west across the United States to seek refuge from persecution.  From their records we know of the extreme physical difficulties they went through, walking hundreds of miles with wagons and handcarts, many falling ill and passing along the way.  Sometimes when I ponder on their experiences, I think to myself: give me a handcart, as I would gladly pull for miles through physical exhaustion and harsh conditions instead of face a world dead set on reducing me to a mental and emotional mess of confusion and contradiction.  I'm certainly not saying that what they went through was not harder than what we today are going through, but I am saying that I feel I am more accustomed and willing to endure physical tribulation than that of the spiritual attacks we see so much of today.  Attacks on family structure, marriage duration, morality, and so much more.

Sometimes I wish for a wagon, but then I remember.

I remember that I am part of a royal generation.  I remember that God has saved me, and others of this day and age, for a special purpose on this Earth at this time.  I remember that if God has put me here in this period of spiritual war, then He knows I am strong enough to fight against it, and win.  I remember that "I know I'm somebody, because God don't make no junk."  I remember that He is all knowing, and all loving, and all so ready to help me fight my battles.  I remember that I can walk off the beaten path and find true peace and genuine happiness.  I know I can make it.  I was made for this; I was saved for this.

So grab your handcart, and don't forget to pack your prayers, because we're going on an adventure.

Mountains and Moun'ns

The weekend before this past I had the opportunity to travel down to Zion National Park for some fun in the sun.  Our multiple hour drive was filled with singing, homework, singing, me falling asleep and probably drooling, and I think there was some more singing.  At last we reached Zion, and when we started up the Angel's Landing trail, I wondered at what I had gotten myself into.

For those who do not know, Angel's Landing is a rock structure reaching 1500 feet above the canyon floor.  The path to the top is steep and narrow, at one point becoming only two feet across.  Even with a paved path in the beginning, the angle led my calves to dream of the flatland Florida I call home, and my lungs complained about the "mountain air".  However, once we made it past the switchbacks I felt exhilarated.  My senses explored the world around me, instead of the pain inside me.  How fantastic it was to be so high up with no walls to block my view and no ceilings to contain my sense of accomplishment as my bare feet hopped from rock to stone, as sure as if they were at sea level back at home.  I stopped worrying about how hard it was, and rejoiced in the accomplishing steps I kept taking.

At this time, I also took notice of the differences between care, caution, and paranoia.  I took care along the whole hike, being aware of my surroundings and spatial orientation; I was especially cautious around the more treacherous parts, placing my footfalls with exactness as the path increased in height and steepness; but I never took to being paranoid for my life or others'.

Paranoia prevents adventure.  Whether it be a fear of heights, germs, or even death itself, fear drops a wall down between us and the experiences life and the world have to offer us.  Most of my life I've been fearful of what others think of me, at one point taking that fear so far that I lowered the quality of my life to try to fit into what society believed to be aesthetically "normal".  One of the darker journeys of my life was getting through and letting go of that fear.  It was hard and rocky and sometimes I backtracked to the beginning because it was so stinkin' hard.  But just as the trail up to Angel's Landing was rough and strenuous, the view was worth it, and the different life I lead now is worth every burdensome day that demanded my constant hike upwards.  Trying to live my life as just being me is one of the coolest and most exciting things I've ever done, even cooler than Angel's Landing.  Some days are easier than others, but I am grateful for the contrasts because you can't have mountains without valleys, and mountains don't seem so daunting anymore. 

We all know how much I'm learning to love that mountain air.

As Long As You Learn

As I walked across campus today, I overheard a snippet of conversation between two young adults:

"Get into the program and graduate; it doesn't matter what your GPA is in the end, just as long as you get an education."

These words echoed in my ears, and I pondered them as I trekked back to my apartment.  It seemed they did not only apply to college, but to life in general.  Have I been going about life the wrong way?  Have I gotten caught up in my GPA and neglected the joy and fulfillment in actual learning?  Have I been too interested in the end result of my mortal experience to enjoy the adventures along the way?
I want to keep track of the little things, the turning points, the silly thoughts that slowly shape my life like a chisel on granite.  I want to realize the adventure I am already partaking of, and add to it.  I want to learn, and I want to share, and I want to live.

When I heard those words on campus, in my mind it was translated into what I needed to hear:

"Get into the life and be; it doesn't matter what your legacy is in the end, just as long as you live, and live it right."

So, let the eternal adventures begin.