Heads up, this is a super long post. Feel free to skip if you don't want a synopsis of like two years of my life.
[Hah, also, heads up—this post is really personal. The above is something Sofie sent me when I told her I was writing this. Man, my friends just get me.
Bekah, texting me just now: How are you Grace? A genuine question.
Me: I feel like I am scrubbing me, a figurative tub, with one of those green scrub brite sponge things.
Bekah: Ouch...]
The summer after my eighth grade year was quite the year for our family. My mom ran for city council, and the election consumed all of us. I was the only kid who was young enough not to be at a job all the time and old enough to be trusted with the lives of small children. It felt like I spent all of my time at home, except for piano and tennis lessons. Despite a memorable Breakdown Week in late August, during which we all took our turn throwing huge fits (including, but not limited to: crying, yelling, locking ourselves in our rooms, shouting about unfairness, refusing to put up
one more election sign), we felt like we did a pretty good job with the election as a family. "If we can do that, we can do anything," we'd joke a bit later. We were only joking a little bit, because it truly did suck.
tl;dr
—that summer was a major period of growth for me. I felt strong nurturing love for Jack, and less specifically I very much loved people in general. It had been a hard summer, but I'd learned a lot about selflessness. I was generally a willing, even eager helper because of that growth. Etc.
Therefore, I feel that I was primed for the social and spiritual experiences that ninth grade offered. Seminary, new classes, new people, new opportunities academically. I was an officer, and it was perfect for me because I truly wanted to be friends with everyone I could to the greatest extent that I could.
For me, that overall experience illustrates something my dad said in my back-to-school blessing this year.
"Remember this: that the periods that stretch us the most also lead to the most growth."
Okay so! You know how in seminary, they always have that one lesson about the importance of taking seminary and institute? And you think, "I am here in seminary. Right now. I
know. There is obviously not a problem with me and enrolling in seminary." Well, at the end of last year I was forced to eat my unvoiced words when I was, as per the norm, confronted with a very full schedule. The difference was that for the first time I considered not taking seminary.
Well, I considered taking home-study or early-morning seminary instead. But that was close enough to the same thing for me and for the people whose advice I asked.
Over the summer, I did vaguely consider and a couple of times pray about whether I should be in daytime seminary or not. Since I was scheduled for daytime seminary, that would be the outcome unless I actively pursued home-study. I never felt quite sure about whether I wanted to take seminary, even though I knew taking seminary is "the right thing to do."
Finally, Jens came home from a seminary council meeting one day and told me the story of how they chose the theme scripture. Here's how it goes: The council took hours to narrow the theme scripture down to two choices, and they were split nearly 50-50 between those two scriptures. At that point, they separated and each took their own time to pray. When they came back together, they voted again, this time
unanimously in favor of one scripture.
When Jens told me this story, I felt very quietly happy, and I made the decision that I belonged in seminary. I felt that the answer I needed was in what he shared. This spiritual confirmation was the first sign between me and God.
I was still worried about seminary, though. I worried that I might still feel like a fraud: because I am a question answerer in all situations, people tend to take me for a spiritual giant, and that outward perception has clashed with my personal view of myself for the past two years. I worried that I wouldn't want to be there. I worried that I wouldn't take the best advantage of seminary.
In the midst of all these weird fears, I clung to a weird comfort: I wanted to be in Brother Doutre's class. I never considered that I might actually end up in his class. So, on the second day of school, when I went to my final period and checked the list for the first time, I was blown away that I had Brother Doutre. It was crazy. I don't even know how to explain it, but it was like God was throwing me a bone. Like when your kid is being such a doofus in an endearing way, and just
has to have a certain thing
just so to function. Like when Jack needs three specific items at bedtime: "You are such a weirdo, Jack, but here is Baby Bop and Bunny and Kangaroo Pillow so you can go to sleep!" Getting Brother Doutre felt like that, like the Lord was chuckling and saying, "Oh, you are such a goose, Grace. Yes, you can have Brother Doutre. Here you go. Heaven knows why you want that so badly" (HAHA LOOK I MADE A PUN). Tender mercies, and another sign to me from God.
All right, so, seminary teachers generally have their students write them letters at the beginning and end of the semester. They can typically include school, family, hobbies, testimony, struggles, etc. This time, I skipped writing about my life's context and I wrote something like this:
"I feel really inadequate. And I've learned all this great stuff and I know I do good stuff but I feel like a fraud, even though I know I'm a good person. And I'm apathetic a lot; I don't read my scriptures and I keep forgetting to pray and I don't love people the way I used to. I've had a few great experiences and they've given me the single solitary thing left in my testimony, which is that I know God knows me and that He loves me. That's literally it." We're coming back to this in a second, so keep it in mind.
One day before class, Brother Doutre pulled me and another girl aside to tell us that he'd like us to be the class presidents. Basically, that means going to a weekly meeting before school, and taking more responsibility for reaching out to the kids in your class.
So a few days later, I was getting ready the morning before the first meeting and I was excited. I was pumped to see what the meeting would be like. I was excited about being a seminary president. I felt like I could do a lot and that I would learn a lot, too. So I was just thinking about the opportunity I'd been given, and feeling rather peaceful and pleasant.
I started thinking about my letter to Brother Doutre and how nice it was to have been completely open. Then, for the first time, I thought about the letter's connection to my appointment as a class president, and the following truths hit me like a ton of bricks:
I have been in decline and I am still valuable enough to be this thing. I really am capable of the things that I have been hoping I am still capable of, like reaching out to others and showing love to them. I can be helpful even though I've felt inadequate. My efforts up to this point in reaching out have not been for nothing, either. I am good and I have been doing good and I am just about to go to a meeting that will increase my capacity to do good.
And also,
God has still known me all this time.
And also,
I only knew that God loves me and I was right
about that one thing.
It was really a brief moment; I connected lots of these truths to my feelings at the time later, when pondering and sifting my experiences.
For the first time in my life, I am learning about the promises of the Lord.
We had a silent lesson that I was already prepared to sort of breeze through. A line of text at the beginning, though, stopped me. It said,
"If you really put effort into this lesson I promise that
- This will be one of your favorite lessons in the year.
- Your testimony will grow."
That's how simple it was. I sort of even groaned inwardly when I saw it. This is because I am a human and humans aren't very good at being good, and I just wanted to sit and play on my phone. But I also knew when I saw the promise that I wanted to test the promise. So I tried it. Five parts stubbornness and determination, and one part spite.
The best part of the lesson came to fruition when several other experiences led me to this principle: The Lord gives you the things He promises. Always.
I have been testing this with leetle promises, and it is fun. I am finding them everywhere
—it is usually in a random sentence, and subtle, and they are making me happier.
I promise you that if you look for promises from the Lord, you will find one. I promise that if you try to put it into action, you will gain something from it.
Being a seminary president didn't automatically make me an exemplary seminary student. Some days I do better than others; sometimes I take the hall pass for a long time and sometimes I sit on my phone. Too often, I answer a question simply because answering questions is what I do. However, I have truly
felt a lot of times, too. I write in my seminary journal, and it's genuine more often than it's forced. Also, last year I didn't even put in enough effort to force it, so even forcing it is progress too. And I bear my testimony in class. Not a big one. Just the little one I have. Because I'm regaining the desire to share and spread what I
do have.
I challenge you to put aside the things that are keeping you from learning experiences, your "strange gods." Your apathy and weariness; your cell phone, sleep, and stubbornness. I challenge you to put these things and all others aside for as long as your weakness doesn't prevent you and test these things for yourself. Pray to God that you might feel His love, and I promise you will. As I do so, I am truly learning of His grace.
Have a good week :)
Love, Grace
We thank thee, O God, for a prophet
To guide us in these latter days.
We thank thee for sending the gospel
To lighten our minds with its rays.
We thank thee for every blessing
Bestowed by thy bounteous hand.
We feel it a pleasure to serve thee
And love to obey thy command.
When dark clouds of trouble hang o'er us
And threaten our peace to destroy,
There is hope smiling brightly before us,
And we know that deliv'rance is nigh.
We doubt not the Lord nor his goodness.
We've proved him in days that are past.
The wicked who fight against Zion
Will surely be smitten at last.
We'll sing of his goodness and mercy.
We'll praise him by day and by night,
Rejoice in his glorious gospel,
And bask in its life-giving light.
Thus on to eternal progression
The honest and faithful will go,
While those who reject this glad message
Shall never such happiness know.
