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 26th, 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
