My Farewell

Hi there again.

Less than six days to takeoff!

See you soon, Guate.

 

If you missed my ravishing farewell talk, voila.

(Disclaimer: It's not actually ravishing. Maybe just plain ravishing, not bolded.)

And if you were there - thank you and I love you and thank you! And you should read it again. Because you love me?

 

THIS was memorized. Because it seemed weird to be reading, "I'm very nervous" from a piece of paper.

Hi.

For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Tabitha Brower, soon to be Hermana Brower, and I’m very nervous.

Much less about my mission, much more about my talk. If I sound like a robot, I’m sorry! I think if I don’t stick to my script I’ll just melt into a little puddle of public-speaking anxiety.

THIS was not. Because I'm not a memorizing machine, you guys!

 I leave in a week and half for the Guatemala City MTC, where I will prepare to teach the people of Guatemala City. I’ll be sharing the gospel, which I love very much and think is awesome and you should check it out if you like eternal joy and finding your purpose and being with the people you love forever. I’ll be proselyting - going door to door like a salesman, but with something AMAZING to share. Not a vacuum. Or … bug-bombs. I’ll be sharing the knowledge that everything works out. I’ll be teaching, doing community service, and helping strengthen people and families and wards. In addition to these things, I will be falling in love with the people, who I've heard are incredible, the food, and the country. I will be missing my dog and big, crazy family, and praying my knees off.

Bishop Flake asked me to pray and speak on something I felt inspired to speak on. I’m a little ashamed, but I was hugely relieved – like personal revelation would come so easily to me. He hit my pride right out of the park by adding a simple caveat: “To speak on something I felt the ward needed.” I’m a pretty confident person, but in that moment I felt painfully inadequate.

As I’ve tried to prepare for my talk, it’s occurred to me a few times that I should look at this challenge not just as the first of many mission trials, but as an opportunity to learn a valuable missionary skill – the gift of praying for the needs of others. In a very short time, I’m going to have to talk on what other people need to hear Every. Single. Day. Bishop also asked me to share how I decided to go on a mission, so I’ll do that first. Friends and family, if you’ve already heard this story a hundred times, feel free to take a cat-nap.

I was in either Belgium or the Netherlands in a hotel with thirty other girls, most of whom were 19 and 20, when the news broke about the missionary age change. We’d been on the bus all day and hadn’t had a chance to watch General Conference.  The second we got Wi-Fi, we got on to … the church website.

No, Facebook.

We heard about the boys, first –they could now serve at 18? Crazy! Then came the posts about the sisters, and it spread like wildfire through our hotel, girls running from door to door, girls gathering in rooms to talk for hours.

 

After hashing it over with my friends, I went back to my room, took a long bath, and prayed fervently – I wasn’t planning on serving a mission. When I was young, I had been sure I would, but within the last few years I had just thought, well, maybe. If I’m absolutely supposed to. But with the age change came new responsibility – I needed to find out if I needed to go.

My only answer that night was to stop stressing and go to sleep already.  My answer the next night was the same. My answer the third night was, “No, seriously, breathe.” After a week or two, thanks to plenty of stroopwaffle and mad amounts of travel, I forgot to be so stressed about it.

At Thanksgiving, I Skyped with my family. My cousin looked over her shoulder, then whispered to me, “I’ve started my papers. My mom doesn’t even know yet.” I was surprised and excited for her, but as soon as I logged off, I felt the weight of indecision. My cousin, who’d never expressed a desire to serve a mission, was starting her papers. I needed to figure this out already.

The prayers started full force again, and nothing came. “If I’m supposed to go, I will,” I begged. “Just tellll me. I just want to know.” I told my friends a million times, “I want to do what I want to do, and I want to do what God wants me to do, but I don’t know what I want to do and I don’t know what God wants me to do!”

On January 26^th, three and a half months after the call to serve was extended, I got my answer. My cousin and I went up to Park City to catch the last bit of the Sundance Film Festival. The day before, her letter had come – she was called to serve in the Birmingham, Alabama, Spanish-speaking mission, and so that day, all we could talk about was missionary work.

We talked and talked and talked about her call, and missions in general, for hours. It wasn’t too unusual – obviously we’d talked about it a lot since October, but something about that day was different. That night, quite late, I went home, said a quick prayer, and cracked open my scriptures. I was on a spiritual high, and was determined to get something good out of them tonight. I started reading the first verse of whatever chapter it was, and I couldn’t process a single word. I felt –very strongly –that I needed to read my patriarchal blessing, so I pulled it out of the back of my scriptures and set to it.

And I just knew. Exactly as I’d been praying for for three and a half months –which is an extremely long time for me to pray for something. I’m not exactly known for my patience. I had prayed and prayed and prayed to just know, and finally, without theatrics or a booming voice or even a still, small voice, I did. I finished reading my blessing and without knowing how it came or at what point,

Can I emphasize this enough,

EXACTLY AS I HAD PRAYED FOR

I JUST. KNEW.

It was one of the most simple, profound moments of my life, and I knew that by morning I would doubt it. It had been so quiet and simple an answer that I knew I would reject it by the reasonable light of day, so I grabbed the nearest piece of paper and stuck it to my magnet board. It would be the first thing I saw in the morning, and on it I wrote one word: “YES.”

The whole experience, to me, seems a pretty apt metaphor for testimony.

Just as some young sisters heard the call to serve and knew right away that this was what they were meant to do, there are people who seem born with a testimony. When you’re not one of those people, as I felt especially about these eager sisters, you can’t figure it out. “They know? They just know? HOW?” But they do. They just do.  They rarely doubt, they feel like they’ve “always known”. From Day One, the truth is incontestable.

For most of us, it takes time – a lot more time than we’re comfortable with. Whether you’re from the immediate-gratification generation or not, growing a testimony often sorely tries your patience. It takes not giving up, it takes constant prayer, it takes humility. It takes leaning on a Lord that you’re sometimes not even sure exists and saying, “I just want to know.” And swearing to act on whatever you find out.

It’s hard, it’s really, really hard. But as I discovered when I finally knew that I needed to go on a mission, it feels so good. Both my call to serve and my testimony have brought me peace. Both have brought me purpose. Both have brought me courage.

As hard as it is to grow a testimony, it’s even harder to act on it. I think I’m about to find that out big-time over the next 18 months. But even though I know it’ll be hard, knowing it’s where I’m supposed to be makes all the difference. Go after a testimony and a knowledge of the truth relentlessly, and don’t stop til it’s in your hands – once you know this is where you’re supposed to be, it makes all the difference.

I am terrified and thrilled to be going. I’m already homesick, I swear, yet overwhelmingly excited to meet the country and people God wants me to meet. These are paradoxes, but so is everything. Contradictions, right now, make sense.

I know that God is flesh-and-bone, and that He is our Father. He’s not mystical or imaginary; He’s not just an idea. We can become like Him in every sense, which is an incredible blessing, and we have a duty to step it up. I know that Jesus is the Christ, and that He died for us – every comfort in this world is a direct result of His Atonement.  I am so grateful for the Spirit in my everyday life. My big and small decisions are made infinitely easier by the guidance of the Spirit.

To my family – all of you – I know I never stop talking, but my gratitude for you is beyond words. To this ward – you have been my family since I was eleven years old, and I love you canyon folk dearly.

I am so grateful to be going to this incredible place, to give this incredible people the best gift I can think of. I am so grateful to know that this Gospel and this church are true, and I testify that a testimony of the truth is worth it in every way.

I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

 

Just a few of my fantastic amazing friends who I love and are fantastic and amazing, did I mention?

 

 

The Church is awesome and true, guys! Talk to you right before I leave, but for now:

Adios.

xxx

Tabby