Lecciones de un Ametuer: Cómo Encontrar a su Media Naranja (Parte 1)

Era el 27 de Abril de 2011. Hacía menos de 24 horas que había desembarcado del avión que me había traido de me querido Chile y fui rodeado con el amor y abrazos de mi familia. Estaba en casa, pero había dejado parte de mi corazón en Chile donde había dado 18 meses de servicio como misionera de la Iglesia de Jesucristo de los Santos de los Últimos Días. Un día después de mi regreso, me encontré detrás del volante del auto, mandando a mi mamá a sus clases en la universidad. Cuando vi que mi mamá había entrado a su clase manejé hasta la oficina de me papá. Hasta ese momento me sentía tranquila, solo con un poco de nostalgia por las personas que había dejado en Chile.

Sin embargo, el momento que salí del carro me di cuenta de algo verdaderamente aterrador: ¡estaba completamente sola! (Para alguien que ha trabajado los últimos 18 meses con una compañera constante, es realmente una experiencia extraña). ¡Busqué por todos lados, pero no había nadie! Corrí hacia la oficina de mi papá con la esperanza de terminar mi situación solitaria. Al final del pasillo hallé mi respuesta cuando vi a mi hermano y sus amigos. En desesperación llamé "¡David! ¡Estoy sola!" y corrí todo el pasillo hacía él para escapar mi situación espantosa.

Ahora que lo pienso, sé que fui muy dramática y no puedo sino reírme de mí misma; pero muchos misioneros retornados han pasado por lo mismo y testificarán que es una sensación horrible darse cuenta que, por la primera vez en 18 meses (o dos años para los hombres), estás completamente sola/o, sin nadie a tu lado. Eventualmente vencí mi miedo de estar sin mi compañera misional, pero nunca olvidé lo que había aprendido como misionera sobre el valor de enfrentar la vida con alguien a mi lado. Con un compañero puedes fijar metas increíbles y lograrlas, puedes diseñar planes y hacerlos realidad, surgirán conflictos y serán superados, servicio será prestado y disfrutado, y siempre habrá mucha diversión. Además, por medio de la misión, mi testimonio en cuanto a la familia había crecido también. De hecho, creció tanto que sabía que no podía (o, mejor dicho, no debía) evitar lo que seguía . . . necesitaba encontrar a mi 'compañero eterno.'

Solo tenía un pequeño problemita con esta meta: odiaba salir con chicos (nota: no odiaba a los chicos, solo odiaba salir con chicos). Ni siquiera sabía como comportarme en su presencia. Además, no solo tenía el problema de haber regresado recién de la misión (dónde está prohibido formar relaciones románticos durante su servicio), pero tampoco tenía mucha experiencia en cuanto al amor desde antes de la misión porque había evitado a los hombres como si fuesen una plaga. Para aclarar las cosas, déjame explicar que me gustaba salir con chicos en la preparatoria, pero mi mayor miedo en la universidad antes de irme a la misión era enamorarme con alguien y, por consecuencia, no servir como misionera . . . entonces evitaba el juego complicado llamado "salir con chicos" lo más que podía antes de prestar mi servicio como misionera. Ahora que estaba de vuelta a casa, lamentaba el hecho de que tenía casi nada de experiencia en cuanto a hombres y el mundo de amor.

Debido a mi falta de experiencia, si tuviera que escoger sola una palabra para describir mi primer año después da la misión, sería "difícil." Todavía recuerdo saliendo al final de una conferencia de estaca (una reunión de la iglesia) llorando porque cada discurso se trató de la importancia del matrimonio y la necesidad de salir con otras personas para poder encontrar a su compañero eterno. Aunque el tema era perfectamente adecuado, yo me sentía perdida, inadecuada, y un poco culpable por mi situación soltera porque no me atrevía coquetear (y menos salir) con chicos. El mundo de amor en la universidad era un misterio completo que jamás logré entender. Había recibido todo tipo de sugerencia de amor de amigos extraños, líderes , familia, y más; pero aún no entendía el juego del amor y no lo quería jugar.

Sin embargo, antes de que pienses que pasé un año sin esperanza, déjame decir que si tuviera que elegir solo una palabra positiva para capturar la esencia de todo lo que aprendí durante mi primer año de regreso de la misión, sería la fe. De hecho, seré tan osada para decir que era la fe que me ayudó a encontrar a mi esposo. No fue alguna sugerencia de cómo coquetear mejor o una idea para una cita que me guió a mi media naranja; no, fueron los susurros del Espíritu Santo en que aprendí a confiar que eventualmente me guiaron a encontrar a mi mejor amigo y (ahora) compañero eterno. 

El momento en que mi perspectiva sobre cómo encontrar a mi media naranja cambió por completo ocurrió una noche después de escuchar el discurso del Hermano Wilcox sobre la gracia del Salvador. Esa noche escribí en mi diario lo siguiente: 

No entiendo el mundo del amor, especialmente en la universidad. Siento que podré desarrollar una relación saludable y amorosa cuando ya sepa con quién voy a estar, pero soy tan tímida que la probabilidad de encontrar a esta persona es muy limitada. No lo puedo hacer sola. Muchas veces he pensado: ¿Por qué Dios se preocuparía por ayudarme a encontrar a un chico? Hay tantas cosas de mayor importancia que le pueden ocupar y, de todos modos, es mi responsabilidad encontrar a mi compañero eterno. Aunque lo he pensado, sé que, por supuesto, estoy equivocada en pensar así. No solo son importantes mis deseos para Dios porque me ama, pero también son importantes para Él porque en la perspectiva eterna, necesito un esposo. Encontrar a mi compañero eterno es una de las cosas MÁS importantes y simplemente sucede que es un desafío muy grande para mi . . . muy grande.

Mientras contemplaba todo eso, el Espíritu me habló por medio de un pensamiento claro: Si supieras que Dios tenía todo planeado y sabía exactamente qué es lo que necesitaba pasar para que encontraras tu esposo, ¿te preocuparías? ¡No! Confiarías en el Señor. Esto es lo que está pasando. Sé que necesito hacer un esfuerzo para encontrar a mi esposo, pero Dios sabe mi situación y mis necesidades. Él sabe dónde está mi esposo y mis dificultades en encontrarlo. No puedo superar estos desafíos solita. Necesito la gracia de mi Salvador. Puedo aplicar la gracia de Jesucristo no solo en el proceso milagroso del arrepentimiento, sino también en el proceso complicado de encontrar a mi compañero eterno. - el 6 de Noviembre de 2011

Ahora que reflexiono sobre estas palabras, casi no puedo creer qué tan ciertas eran: No podía encontrar a mi esposo futuro solita. ¡Ni siquiera estábamos en el mismo país! ¿Sabía yo eso en el momento? Por supuesto que no. ¿Lo hubiera entendido si Dios me lo hubiera dicho? Es muy probable que no. ¿Me hubiera ayudado saberlo? No tanto. Lo que Dios sí me dijo era que me tenía presente y que yo debía confiar en Él. Entonces confié--aunque aveces me costó muchísima fe--confiaba. Y esta confianza hizo toda la diferencia. Así que, la primera lección (de un amateur que jamás entendió el mundo típico del amor) es que debemos confiar en Dios. Si pudieras saber el fin desde el principio, jamás dudarías. Y con Dios, sabes el fin desde el principio. Solamente no lo puedes ver. Así que, confía en Dios porque Él sí lo ve, y te guiará en cada paso que das.

Why We All Need To Fail

Because of a combination of various factors, I have been thinking a lot lately about failure. I know that sounds like a rather depressing topic, but it has actually been a very positive experience for me. In fact, it has been so positive that I have been telling people on a regular basis for the past month or so that they should fail. I wish I had learned this lesson earlier on in life, but since the past is in the past, I’m doing the next best thing I know how to do and I’m letting everyone else know why we all need to fail.

The first (and really only) person who has ever told me that I should fail was my boss during my years as a college teaching assistant. She was, and is, one of my great heroes in life; but I still remember wondering exactly what she meant when she told all 40+ TAs that she wanted us to “fail and fail big” throughout the next school year. She went on to explain that the only way we were going to improve as TAs was if we tried new things and went above and beyond our past teaching experiences . . . and she knew that taking on that kind of a challenge meant we would probably fail in many of our attempts, and she was more than okay with that.

I immediately liked that perspective, but I had never been okay with failure before. As a result, it took me until just recently to fully accept that perspective and make it my own.

To explain how my perspective finally changed, I feel I should share a few of the moments in my life when I have felt like a complete failure. I do so in the hopes that my readers might find some commonalities between my experiences and their own.

1) Learning Spanish. I HATED my Spanish classes. Hated. Them. Looking back now I realize that that loathing may have stemmed from the fact that Spanish didn’t come to me as easily as most other subjects. In my mind I was a failure at Spanish because I couldn’t speak without a gringo accent. I was a failure because I couldn’t fully express myself. I was a failure because I couldn’t understand the Chileans when I first arrived to the mission field, (even after four solid years of studying the language in high school and college). I was a failure because I lost my personality in Spanish, I couldn’t teach in Spanish, I couldn’t tell stories in Spanish, and many times I got so lost in translation that I couldn’t even remember what I wanted to say in English. Failure. Failure. Failure.

2) Being a Missionary. If a returned missionary tells you that they never once (not even for a split second in their entire 18 or 24 months) felt like a failure on their mission, they are lying to you. The list of seeming failures in the life of a missionary could go on and on: You failed to get into a home. Your star investigators tell you your message is from the devil and you should never come back. You struggle with the language. You’re afraid to talk to people in the street. Your companion is mad at you or you’re mad at your companion. Investigators don’t come to church. You don’t have a baptism for a considerable amount of time, etc., etc. Failure. Failure. Failure.

3) Being a Grown-Up. After I graduated from college I couldn’t get a real job because I was moving out of the country in five months, so I lived at my parents house and got a job working a grand total of eight hours a week. Failure. When we got married and moved to Mexico, we lost our dream job and my visa was rejected. Failure. We bought a car that turned out to be a lemon. Failure. I made some bad travel decisions and had to spend the night at a Greyhound bus station . . . twice. Failure. At my current job I don’t always get my work done on time, I lose my patience with my students, and I’m not as organized as I know I could be. Failure.

So why did I just tell you all of that? Besides hoping my honesty about how many times I’ve failed in life helps me to identify with others’ experiences, I also shared those experiences to compare what I felt about myself and my failures then, to how I feel about them now (explanations to come).

Perhaps the biggest factor that has changed my perspective on failure is that I recently began offering free English classes at our church building. The curriculum that I am using is the same curriculum that they use in the MTC, so in much of my teacher training my mentor and I talked about the importance of getting students to speak from day one. As I have focused on this goal I have recognized in my students the same fear I once had when learning Spanish: the fear of failure. 

Some students are so afraid to try a new word or phrase because they know that they will say it wrong. Then, when they do give it a try and mispronounce a word or mix up the grammatical structure, they apologize so profusely you’d think they had committed a serious crime. So I have started telling my students to fail. I tell them that I want them to fail—that they have to fail—because if they are not failing it means they are not trying. After ten years of trying to master the Spanish language, I know that if they are not willing to fail, they will never learn English. True learning requires failure.

So how does this translate into real life? First of all, I want to highlight the difference between “failing” and “being a failure.” Many times, during those crazy months after arriving in Mexico when it seemed our life was one long chain of failures, Beto or I would say to the other, “I feel like a failure.” One night, after I had admitted that very thing, Beto looked at me and said, “There are a lot of times when I feel like a failure too. And then I remember the miracles God put in our lives to bring us together—and I think about how you are mine forever—and that’s how I know that I am not what I am feeling. I am not a failure.” We might have failed, but we were not failures. Along those lines, President Uchtdorf once stated:

Satan would rather that you define yourself by your [failures] instead of your divine potential. . . Don’t listen to him. We have all seen a toddler learn to walk. He takes a small step and totters. He falls. Do we scold such an attempt? Of course not. What father would punish a toddler for stumbling? We encourage, we applaud, and we praise because with every small step, the child is becoming more like his parents. . . . Compared to the perfection of God, we mortals are scarcely more than awkward faltering toddlers. . . . God understands that we get [to our eternal goal] not in an instant but by taking one step at a time. I do not believe in a God who would set up rules and commandments only to wait for us to fail so he could punish us. I believe in a Heavenly Father who is loving and caring and who rejoices in our every effort to stand tall and walk toward Him. (Four Titles)

God is not worried about our failures as much as He is worried about whether or not we get up after we fall. Society, on the other hand, is very worried about failure and makes us believe that the only acceptable outcome of our actions is perfection. God is focused on perfecting, and that process requires failure. As Brother Willcox so masterfully depicted in his analogy of the piano student, the student is not just presented with the options to either “be a concert pianist” or “never play the piano.” The student becomes a concert pianist over years of practice, and errors are expected in that learning process. 

So too, we are not left with the options to either be perfect or to be eternally condemned. Errors are expected in our learning process. Or, put a little differently, errors are  the learning process. We learn from opposition and often times that opposition comes from our failures, allowing us to juxtapose actions and consequences. Borrowing from the words of Adam and Eve, because of their failure their “eyes [were] opened, and in this life [they had] joy, . . . Were it not for [their failure they] never should have had seed, and never should have known good and evil, and the joy of [their] redemption, and the eternal life which God giveth unto all the obedient” (Moses 6:10-11). 

If I had given up on Spanish anywhere along my failure ridden path I never would have known just how well I can communicate in this beautiful language. I would have missed out on relationships with hundreds of incredible individuals, including my angel husband. I would have missed experiences of a lifetime that have had eternal consequences. I owe much of the events of the last five years of my life to the fact that I was willing to fail when it came to Spanish (even if I didn’t like it).

If I had given up the first time someone refused to listen to the message of the gospel on my mission, I never would have met the people I was sent to Chile to find. If I had refused to teach after the first time I totally slaughtered a lesson, I never would have learned to truly teach according to the Spirit and touch people’s lives. And if I had lost hope during the months and months without a baptism, I never would have had the chance to sit across from a very special daughter of God and testify to her that God loves her; and she most definitely would not have been baptized the last day of my mission.

Finally, if Beto and I had given up anywhere along our crazy journey . . . who knows. I used to think that if I failed at anything I would somehow compromise any possibilities for future success or opportunity . . . for the rest of my life. Life would somehow be over. It was silly of me to think like that. As President Uchtdorf puts it: “We can feel so burdened by our failures and shortcomings that we begin to think  we will never be able to succeed. We might even assume that because we have fallen before, falling is our destiny” (You Can Do It Now!) But it’s not!!!! As I look back at our crazy adventures this past year, there really wasn’t anything else for Beto and I to do but to keep going. Life didn’t end and, believe it or not, our failures brought us to a place with more opportunity than we could have imagined. We may have suffered quite a bit, but our entire future was definitely not jeopardized by the fact that life didn’t go exactly as planned.

So why do we all need to fail? To put it one way, we need to fail so that we can accomplish the things that truly matter. Anything that is worth our time and effort will come with the risk of failure. That risk and the consequences of our failure are the price of our eventual victory—and we will be victorious if we persevere. We cannot content ourselves at being perfect in mediocre goals that we know we can achieve; we need to push ourselves and risk failure in the pursuit of higher goals. Once our vision is on that higher goal, our lack of perfection becomes obsolete because we know we are participating in the process of perfecting who we are. And we know that that process requires failure. 

And that is why it is so important that Christ offered himself to be the Savior of the world, because We. Need. To. Fail. And HE is the reason we can fail and still achieve the highest goals of all. As President Uchtdorf explained, “Without the Atonement of Jesus Christ, life would be a dead-end road without hope or future. With the Atonement, life is an ennobling, inspiring journey of growth and development that leads to eternal life in the presence of our Heavenly Father” (Four Titles). May we all learn to love ourselves a little more as we embrace a positive perspective on failure and continually trust in Him who helps us overcome and triumph every time we fail.

Applying the Atonement

Growing up, I often struggled to understand the phrase commonly used in the scriptures and church meetings indicating that we should “apply the Atonement” in our lives (see Mosiah 4:2). I recognized that comprehending the magnitude of the Atonement is a feat we cannot fully realize in this mortal life, but I always felt my attempts fell short of even mortal expectations. 

It was easy to notice the significance of the Atonement in my life when I considered the fact that, because of the Savior’s sacrifice and resurrection, I would see my grandmother (who died of cancer when I was eleven) after this life. And it was beyond relieving to know that I could be forgiven of my sins--big and small--because of the Atonement. But I could not content myself with an image of the Atonement carefully placed in a glass case with a “Break in Case of Sin or Death” sign.

Perhaps it was because I was raised by two very practical parents, but I felt I could not truly discern the enormity of the Atonement until I found a way to practically “apply” it as the scriptures say into every potential situation life might throw my way. And for a long time I wasn’t really sure how to do that. Yes, I loved my Savior. Yes, I felt and experienced the blessings of the Atonement in my life. But I lacked an understanding of how the knowledge of the Savior’s suffering, death, and resurrection could be an active component of my every-day life.  

My testimony of the Atonement continued to grow throughout my first two years of college, but I still felt I was missing something. Elder Bednar once stated that “Knowing that the gospel is true is the essence of a testimony. Consistently being true to the gospel is the essence of conversion.” I knew that the Atonement was real and powerful. I had a testimony of it. What I lacked was conversion. How could I be consistently true to the Atonement of Jesus Christ? How could I consistently put it into practice? I was half-way through my mission before I finally discovered how to “apply the Atonement” in my life and turn a testimony of the Savior’s sacrifice into conversion to the Atonement. 

At the mention of my mission, it is likely you are thinking my big "aha" moment came as a consequence of an incredible experience with a particular investigator, or an amazing talk by a visiting General Authority (and, undoubtedly, all of those experiences had an impact); but, in reality, my big "aha" moment came after four days of being shut up inside our apartment with a flu so nasty I had lost the ability to speak. The mission nurse had prescribed several medications I could take to get me back on my feet and preaching again; but, for some odd reason, I had left the bottle of medicine and its instructions on my study desk. 

Wednesday morning came around accompanied by our regular morning study time. Wednesdays, however, were not really regular. Wednesdays were extra special in my mission because it was the day that our mission president had asked every missionary to specifically study the Atonement. So, despite my shivering, sniveling, shaking body, I sat down at my desk and began to search the scriptures for a greater understanding of the Atonement. I don’t remember exactly what scripture I was reading at the time, but I happened to glance over at my bottle of medicine and the instructions lying next it as I pondered on the meaning of the Atonement--and that’s all it took. In an instant an entire analogy popped into my brain and I scrambled for my scripture journal so I could write it all down before any detail was forgotten. The analogy goes something like this (please keep in mind that no analogy is perfect):

You get really sick so you go to the doctor. The doctor tells you there is a remedy for which he gives you the prescription. You go to the pharmacy at which time the pharmacist asks for the prescription and checks the doctor’s signature before giving you the medicine. Once you have the medicine in your possession you carefully read the instructions which explain how to APPLY the medication. You apply the medication and you get better.

This simple sequence of events takes place basically every day of our lives--only spiritually--and it goes something like this:*

We sin, lose hope, feel lonely, face heart-wrenching trials, make big life decisions, and go through any number of emotions and experiences every day, so we turn to God. God tells us there is a remedy--the Atonement of Jesus Christ. We obtain full access to the Atonement of Jesus Christ through His Priesthood Power. (For example, the words of the prophets of God, both ancient and modern, guide and uplift us along our path. The prophet also holds all the priesthood keys that enable us to receive a valid baptism, be given the gift of the Holy Ghost, make additional covenants in the temple, and be married and sealed to our families for time and all eternity, etc.) 

Thus, the priesthood is the proper authority needed to validate access to the full remedy of the Atonement, just like a doctor’s signature on a prescription allows us access to physical remedies. And just like the pharmacy and the pharmacist are there to help us when we need a particularly powerful remedy--or simply need help understanding the doctor’s instructions--we have the Church and church leaders to help us  to better understand and apply the instructions given to us by God. 

Most importantly, God has provided us detailed and personal instructions in the scriptures about how to apply the Atonement of Christ in our lives. Those instructions can be summed up and practically applied by living the Gospel of Jesus Christ. As taught in the scriptures, living the gospel includes having faith in the Savior, repenting of our sins, making and keeping sacred covenants with Him, receiving and seeking the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost, and enduring to the end (see 2 Nephi 31 and 3 Nephi 27:19-21). As we apply these steps to our every-day actions we are literally applying the atoning blood of Christ into our lives and we will be healed.

In essence, to apply the Atonement we must live the gospel Christ taught. His life and ministry were not a mere lead-up to his sacrifice, death, and resurrection. His life and teachings are the way to apply His Atonement. He came and taught us how to make his sacrifice a practical and living reality in our every-day actions and choices. He is the great remedy and His life was the grand explanation of how to apply His sacrifice to every aspect of our lives.

Finally, the word ‘apply’ has two definitions that bring greater light to this analogy. The first is to “bring or put into operation or practical use.” This was the definition I had been trying to understand and implement for so many years. I had wanted to know how to put the Atonement into practical operation and I have finally come to understand how to do just that: live the gospel! Every time I face a trial I look to the “instructions” and I realize that I can more fully live one of the principles and/or covenants contained in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. For example, maybe I just need to have more faith in God; or maybe I need to change and repent of certain habits or beliefs; or perhaps I need to remind myself of the covenants I have made and trust in their promises as I better fulfill mine; and it is always likely that I need to more actively search for and use the gift of the Holy Ghost. Doing any one of these things is to apply the Atonement.

The second definition of 'apply' is to “give one’s full attention to a task.” As such, it is no mistake that the final "step" of the Gospel of Jesus Christ is the task to endure to the end. Indeed, the task of living the gospel by faith, repentance, making and keeping covenants, and receiving the Holy Ghost is a task that we must use over and over again throughout our entire life. This is the process we must use to apply the Atonement for it is the only way that He can enter into our very being and cast out every malady and imperfection. Living the gospel to gain access to the full blessings of the Atonement is the task that requires our full attention. It is why we are here. There is no other task that merits our total application and hard work as does the effort to live the gospel Christ has showed us how to live. 

*Analogy Reference:

Sickness = Sin/Trials/Decisions/Situations XYZ

Doctor = God 

Remedy = Christ & His Atonement 

Prescription Signature = Priesthood Power 

Pharmacy = Church 

Pharmacist = Church Leaders 

Instructions = Scriptures 

Application = The Gospel of Jesus Christ (Faith, Repentance, Making & Keeping Covenants, Receiving & Being Worthy of the Holy Ghost, Enduring to the End). 

Paradise

The green rises with the mist rolling off the foothills of the valley.
This is home, my Paradise.
Farms are scattered everywhere,
While "downtown" boasts a cafe, a post office, a church.
Mostly, home is full of people, children, animals, families, nothing else.

Paradise . . . it's often forgotten in this big 'ole world we live in,
But it is always Paradise that gives me something to believe in.
They tell us we're simple, as if to offend.
We thank them for the compliment they so willingly lend.

Each day goes by slowly, graciously.
(They say time is relative, and indeed, it is here.)

I know one day I'll leave this town of mine
For something much bigger, full of the grind--
The grind of the world, its relentless pace--
But I know I will soon return to this place.

This place with its simplicity, the people, my home,
The port of peace from which I launch to roam.
Security,
       Beauty,
           Simplicity,
                    Peace,
I feel it all as the mist rises and disappears to the East.

The Benefits of Affliction

A couple weeks ago my husband and I had a part-member family in our home for a Family Home Evening. As we thought about what we would share for our lesson, we both felt it would be a good idea to go over the Plan of Salvation (especially since there is so much to learn about it that it didn't matter if they had received the same lesson from the missionaries the day before). What we had originally planned to be a 15 minute overview turned into an hour plus lesson as the husband and wife (both investigators) asked question after question and marked every scripture Beto and I mentioned as we testified of the doctrine of our Father's plan of happiness. At the end of the lesson, we all felt like we could have continued teaching and learning, but it was already 10pm! 

One thing I drew from that experience is that we take our knowledge of the plan of salvation for granted. The truth about who we are, where we come from, and who we can become is LIFE CHANGING. I saw it over and over again on my mission and I saw it during our little Family Home Evening just the other day. But it's not just life changing for investigators and new members. Several days after our awesome FHE, I went through one of the hardest weeks of my life. It seemed like one tragedy after the other added to disappointment after disappointment until I was so emotionally sick I didn't get out of bed one morning to go to work (which I don't think I've ever done before) and told my husband I didn't want to deal with life that day. 

Thankfully, I have been blessed with the best husband ever. Before he left for work, he encouraged me to think about what I had taught at Family Home Evening and apply it to myself. Later in the day, since I was still in emotional paralysis, he sent me a message to tell him everything for which I am grateful (i.e. apply
my other post about gratitude!). And, as always, the miracle of gratitude did not fail me. As my emotional paralysis turned into an attitude of gratitude, I felt the Spirit return and life started to get better. I decided to keep the spiritual momentum going and turned to the scriptures, my patriarchal blessing, and the words of the prophets to buoy me up. As I did, I came across several quotes about affliction from Elder Neal A. Maxwell, whose own afflictions took him beyond this life. Several of his quotes spoke of the vital role of affliction in giving us the experience God's plan was designed to deliver. He states:

The sobering indication "All these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good" (D&C 122:7) tells us that while we are doctrinally rich, we are usually experience poor. Gods's plan is designed to correct the latter deficiency; one's soul shivers, however, as one contemplates the implications. (Faith, 34-35.)  

God said he would structure mortality to be a proving and testing experience (see Abraham 3:25; Mosiah 23:21). Clearly He has kept His promise and has carried out His divine intent. Therefore adversity must be part of the pattern rather than always an aberration. Therefore even our fiery trials, as Peter said, should not be thought of as being "some strange thing" (1 Peter 4:12). Hence, throughout the varying lengths of our lives there is rolling relevance contained in the counsel to endure it well. (Endure, 2.) 

And if regular experience alone is not enough, some afflictions can be designed to mold us to a greater degree than we ever imagined possible; as Elder Maxwell explained, 

Exceptional souls are not developed . . . by being made exceptions to the challenges that are common to mankind. (Prove, 116.)

We undergo afflictions such as are "common to man" (1 Corinthians 10:13). Additionally, God will deliberately give us further lessons and experience which take us beyond the curriculum common to man and on into uncommon graduate studies or even postdoctoral discipleship. (Not My Will, 4.) 

As I digested all of Elder Maxwell's teachings, every word hit home, but the following two quotes are the ones that shot bright rays of light and truth right through my heart: 

How can you and I really expect to glide naively through life as if to say, "Lord, give me experience, but not grief, not sorrow, not pain, not opposition, not betrayal, and certainly not to be forsaken. Keep from me, Lord, all those experiences which made Thee what Thou art! Then let me come and dwell with Thee and fully share Thy joy!" (Ensign, May 1991, 88.) 

Like his Master, the true believer loves his life but is willing to lay it down or to see it slip slowly away through affliction. If he is given a "thorn in the flesh," he does not demand to see the rose garden. ("'True Believers in Christ,'" 139.)  

Let us not forget why we are really here. Yes, "men are that they might have joy" (2 Nephi 2:25), but we did not leave the presence of the Almighty God for a simple pleasure trip. We came here to prove ourselves. We chose to leave the presence of our heavenly father, the God of the universe, to experience this life and demonstrate our loyalty to Him, despite all that we knew could happen as part of our mortal experience. Why? So that when we returned to his presence after this life, we would be worthy of the eternal joy that awaits us.

In fact, true joy has nothing to do with our house, our job, our things, worldly approval, or life running smoothly. Nothing at all. True joy is the joy rooted in eternal things that cannot be taken away by mortal circumstances. True joy can be present even in our darkest hours; we need only to remember its source, our Savior.

As I worked my way out of my emotional fog, I found another ray of light in my patriarchal blessing. I had often read the part of my blessing that talks about how I will face trials in life and will overcome them because I know it is the Lord's way of helping us to learn and progress. What I had never noticed about the phrasing before was that it actually states that I will overcome my trials because I understand the Lord and his way of helping us to learn and progress. "Because I understand the Lord." Isn't that so interesting?! It had never occurred to me that I understand the Lord, nor that understanding Him could specifically help me through my trials, but as I read those words I realized that I do understand Him (if only to a small degree) and that that understanding makes all the difference.

Most importantly, I understand that God loves me. I understand that He loves all of us and He wants the best for all of us. What is more, He has allowed us the chance to really understand what "the best" truly is. In fact, He wants us to understand Him so intensely that He has invited us to His home, the temple, so that He can personally teach us. As I thought about this truth, my mind immediately went back to the incredible experience I had less than a month ago as I sat in the house of the Lord and witnessed one of the most sacred ordinances being performed--the sealing of my best friend to an incredible young man, her companion for time and all eternity. Witnessing a temple marriage has always been a powerful experience for me. It is one of those crystalline clear moments when eternity is so tangible you can actually see it. As the sealer gave the couple advice, I was overwhelmed by the Spirit and touched by the truth of his words. It was the first sealing I had been to since my own and I could not deny the absolute beauty of eternal marriage and the power of temple blessings. 

In the presence of eternity, it was easy to understand everything Beto and I have been through in the first ten months of our marriage. The overwhelming blessings and the vision of who we can become that Gad so openly shares with us in the temple not only make our earthly experiences worth it, they also give purpose to all the sorrow, grief, pain, disappointment, tragedy, betrayal, and opposition we could ever face in this life. As Paul taught the Romans, "The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God: And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if it so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together. For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us." (Romans 8:16-18.)

Do we get it? Do we really get it? We are children of God. We are divine. We are joint-heirs with Christ!!!! We have been promised all that God has. All. Of. It. Those are not just nice words of comfort offered by a caring friend who knows nothing of our sufferings. Those are words of truth spoken by God himself, the creator of the universe. He has promised us all that He has. And He knows what we are going through. He is suffering it all right along with us. Why? Because He loves us, He wants us back, and He knows that we need the benefits of affliction to make it there.

80-Year-Old Angels

A few months ago I got the exciting news that my best friend was getting married! When she asked if I would be able to make it to the wedding I told her I would do everything in my power to get there, but the more I thought about it, though, the more impossible it seemed. Nevertheless, after talking things over with my husband, I started looking for good flight deals and discovered that if I flew in to Las Vegas and took a bus from there, it would cut my travel costs in half! This was wonderful news, especially since we would be needing to buy three plane tickets this summer--one for my best friend's wedding in June and two for July when Beto and I would both be flying to Utah to see my family before my brother leaves on his mission. What had once seemed like an incredibly daunting financial feat was now a possibility.

As with most things in my life, however, this little trip turned into quite the adventure. The day of my flight finally arrived and I spent most of the day packing and making sure things would run smoothly at home while I was gone. Then it was off to the airport! Beto and I grabbed something to eat at the McDonald's in front of the airport and then we said our goodbyes and I was on my way. After maneuvering my way through check-in, airport security, and immigration, I found my gate and settled in. The U.S.A. vs. Ghana World Cup soccer game was on every television in the area so I took advantage of the situation and just enjoyed the moment. I should have taken it as a bad sign when my phone suddenly died and refused to turn back on; I had NO idea what I was in for in the next 15 hours!

I discovered the first and most important setback of the trip as I boarded the plane at 6:30pm (Mexico time): it had begun to rain. We sat on the tarmac for over an hour as we waited out the worst of the storm and then took our place in the long line of delayed flights still waiting to take off. We were in the air by 8pm, a full hour later than scheduled. That, of course, is when I started to worry. I had given myself an hour and a half to get from the airport to the bus station (which, according to the internet, was only a 15 minute shuttle ride away . . . and shuttles were "always waiting" at the airport exit). With the flight delay, my hour and a half had quickly turned into 30 minutes. I knew I was in trouble, but even then I didn't know exactly how much trouble I was in for.

The plane touched down at 9:30pm Las Vegas time (which would be 11:30 in Mexico City) and I quickly made my way to baggage claim and through customs. By 9:40pm I was at the shuttle office with a full 35 minutes to get to the bus station (my bus left at 10:15). Unfortunately for me, the internet lied. When I asked for a shuttle, the girl at the desk told me she would have to call for a shuttle (i.e. shuttles are not "always waiting" at the airport exit), but that even if I could get on a shuttle at that very moment, I would never make it to the bus station by 10:15 (because the shuttle ride to the bus station would definitely last longer than the 15 minutes I'd read about online). In fact, the bus station, she informed me, was on the other side of the city; and my only real hope of making it there on time was to take a taxi.

Alright, so I would have to take a taxi. The problem with that solution was that a taxi would cost $35 USD and I only had $20 USD on me (it was actually a 20 dollar bill we had received for our wedding that we hadn't had time to exchange.) Solution to the problem: use my debit card at the ATM. Problem to the solution #1: the ATM was back inside the airport, several minutes away and my time was already short. Problem #2: once I got to the ATM I couldn't remember my pin. Now don't jump to any conclusions and get to thinking that I am extremely forgetful or didn't think things through all the way (although both those accusations could be true). The reason I couldn't remember my pin goes back to January when, along with other things, my debit card was stolen. After the robbery my parents ordered me a new card and sent it across the border. When I received it I decided to create a pin that was totally different from my old pin, just to be safe. The problem was that I never wrote it down and I never used my card after that. In fact, I didn't even activate my card until several months later when I needed it to buy my plane tickets . . . at which time I realized I couldn't remember my pin. So I called the international number for my bank and was informed that I would only be able to change my pin at a branch in the U.S. (since my bank doesn't exist in Mexico). So, ironically, I had been planning all along to go to the bank during my short stay to resolve the issue.

Back to the story! I couldn't remember my pin. After several attempts at the ATM I decided to hope for compassion and returned to the taxi pick-up. I handed the driver my luggage and told him to take me as far as he could on $20 and then jumped in the back of his taxi. The driver did have compassion on me, but not so much as to take me all the way to the bus station. Instead, he took me as far as $18 could take me, gave me $3 dollars change (I know, he gave me a whole extra dollar back!), and gave me his water bottle and some directions. It was now 10:10pm and my bus left in five minutes. The taxi driver had gotten me as far as the Strip and told me to use the rest of my money to take the bus. So I started running through the crowds (trying not to be completely overwhelmed by the huge buildings and shiny lights all around me) until I found a bus.

The bus doors opened and I heard a little voice saying "Please pay before boarding." I was so confused! In Mexico you always pay the bus driver as you get on the bus, but the bus driver was hidden inside a bullet-proof, black-tinted glass case! So I just stood on the curb with a look of utter confusion on my face until the bus driver opened his door and yelled at me to get on. So, with my three remaining dollars clutched tightly in one hand and my suitcase in the other, I boarded the bus in the middle of the Las Vegas strip. The driver had asked me where I needed to go as I got on the bus and I had told him The Plaza Hotel (because, according to the internet, it is right next to the bus station). A few blocks after boarding the driver stopped the bus and came out of his bullet-proof cabin and motioned for me to get off the bus with him (imagine me with a face of total bewilderment). With the bus still running and traffic going by, the driver stepped off the bus with me and pointed toward the Palazzo Hotel and started giving me instructions how to get there. "I actually need to get to the Greyhound Bus Station" I told him, to which he responded with as much confusion as I was feeling until we clarified that the bus station was next to the Plaza Hotel, not the Palazzo. So he ordered me back onto the bus.

Before I got back on, I admitted I hadn't paid yet and showed him my three dollars in the hopes that I was supposed to pay him directly. Though I could tell he was completely baffled by my ignorance, he kindly led me toward the back of the bus (and past all the complaining passengers) to a little machine. Once at the machine the driver entered in the standard bus fare of $6 and motioned for me to put the money in the machine. I cringed inside as I told him I only had three dollars. He just shook his head and told me to put what I had in the machine and went back to his bullet-proof cabin. I struggled with the machine for a few more minutes and then tried to blend in with the bus to avoid the annoyed glances of my fellow passengers. All I could think was "I'm definitely not in Mexico anymore." (Why does transportation have to be so technologically complicated?!)

By this time I already knew I had missed my bus to Salt Lake--I'd seen someone's watch before the whole bus fare fiasco that had said it was 10:20pm--but I was hoping to get to the station in time to make it on to the next bus out. Eventually the city bus was approaching my stop and the driver called me over the intercom asking me to come to the front of the bus. Thankfully, he had called me up to give me directions to the Greyhound bus station. He told me that if I went left at the next stop light and walked through the Golden Nugget that the Plaza Hotel would be on the other side and the bus station would be right next to it. I followed his instructions and, as I crossed the street at the stoplight, I was able to wave goodbye to the very kind, patient, and informative bus driver who at least helped me figure out American transportation technology and got me to the bus station!

My adventures, however, had only begun. As I walked into the Golden Nugget I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. To my right, a woman up on a stage was asking a man in the crowd to take off his shirt, so I decided to look straight ahead. Straight ahead, a woman (with much less than a shirt on) was doing a dance I never want to see again, so I looked to the left. To the left there were two women (wearing about as much as the previous woman) dancing on top of a bar . . . so I decided that the sidewalk was my safest bet and stared at it until I was out of the lion's den! Confused and disoriented I looked around for the bus station and then, when I couldn't see it, asked a nice-looking lady for help. She kindly pointed out the great big sign that said bus and I sheepishly thanked her and walked away.

I walked into the Greyhound bus station at 10:45pm knowing several important, and rather unfortunate facts: 1) I had missed my bus; 2) I was now on the other side of the city from the airport; 3) I had no more money and no access to money (due to the forgotten pin number); and 4) what happens in Vegas simply shouldn't happen. As my luck would have it, more unfortunate facts were on their way. The lady at the counter informed me that the next bus to Salt Lake (which left at 7:55am) was already full and the next bus would leave at 10:15 the next evening. She also informed me that I could not be refunded for my ticket unless I paid her another $20 for the refundable ticket. Though I already knew it was hopeless, I made a half-hearted effort to withdraw money from the ATM inside the station and then wandered over to the waiting area.

I felt the most comfortable sitting next to my fellow latinos (not that I am one biologically, but I feel latino) and eventually asked one of them if I could borrow their phone to call my parents (since mine was broken and wouldn't work in the U.S. anyway). My mother didn't answer. So I sat and thought and thought and thought of possible solutions to no avail. A while later the woman whose phone I had borrowed returned and said she had received a message from someone about 20 minutes earlier. It was my mother asking who was calling. I quickly texted back that it was me and that I'd missed my bus, had no money, and didn't know how I was going to get home. No reply. The woman (and her phone) disappeared for a while so I borrowed someone else's phone, but after the 10th attempt I essentially gave up on calling my parents. It was, after all, 1:00am in Utah.

So I sat and prayed and sat some more. Eventually I wandered back to the front desk to see if I could get on a waiting list for the morning bus, but that was a no-go since the waiting list was already several customers long. I was running out of options and, since I no longer had a ticket for a Greyhound bus, I could very possibly be out of a place to stay. Back in the waiting area I tried to ignore the gruesome Forensic Files documentary showing on the giant screen TV and blasting over the bus station speakers. After several horrific murder stories I simply couldn't handle it anymore and decided to give the ATM another shot. As I stood at the ATM entering one pin after another, my prayers were answered when I heard two elderly men mention Salt Lake City as they were talking to a Greyhound worker.

I spun on the spot at the sound of their voices and immediately made my way toward their shining, glowing, aura. I really didn't know what I was hoping for, but I simply had to talk to them. "Excuse me," I said, "but I couldn't help but overhear you talking about Salt Lake. Are you headed that way?" They, of course, were not going to Salt Lake (I mean, really, who would go to the Greyhound bus station at 12:30 in the morning to take a bus that leaves at 7:55am?) They were, in fact, waiting for their 90-year-old friend who was coming on the bus from Salt Lake that would arrive at 1:15am. Their friend had just lost his wife and had travelled to Montana to spread her ashes in the mountains. He had gotten off the bus in Salt Lake City and quickly got lost. Someone saw him wandering the city and called the police, who took him into custody and then returned him to the bus. His friends were rightfully worried about him and had personally come to the bus station to pick him up and make sure he made it safely home. They were asking if his bus had arrived when I heard them mention Salt Lake City.

"You wouldn't happen to be from Utah, would you?" they asked me with their unmistakeable country-boy accents.

"I am," I admitted. "How could you tell?"

The older one leaned in and said with a chuckle, "You just happen to be the only woman in here with sleeves that cover her shoulders."

I laughed too. "And where are you from?"

"We live in a little community about 65 miles north of here," one of them answered, and then added with a knowing eyebrow raise "with a population that's about 50% Mormon."

The other man leaned in and whispered "And we're some of those Mormons."

"Oh good," I said. "Me too! What are your names?"

The older of the two reached out his hand and shook mine, "I'm Brother Gary."

"And I'm Brother Roger" the younger one followed.

"And I'm Sister Ashley!" I finished off.

The craziness of the bus station melted away away as Gary told me about fighting in World War II with Leroy (the 90-year-old man coming on the bus), and Roger told me his conversion story and how he had served later on in the Vietnam war. Their stories came one after the other and I couldn't help but feel safe with these two funny, but amazing men.

As the time drew nearer for their friend's bus to arrive, Gary looked at me with a rather serious and fatherly look and said, "Now you sit right at the front of your bus and don't talk to anyone but the bus driver until you get to Utah. Alright?"

"Well," I hesitated, ". . . I actually missed my bus and the morning bus is full and has a waiting list and the next bus after that heads out at 10:15 tomorrow night and I don't really know what to do." The words came rushing out in a tumble.

Gary and Roger looked at me with alarm and one of them said, "Well we can't let that happen!"

"Yeah," I agreed. "I was wondering if you would take me to the airport."

"Well of course we will!" Gary exclaimed. "It's the only thing that can be done!"

Relief coursed through my body as I told them how grateful I was and that they were the answer to my prayers. They would hear none of it and simply told me not to move an inch while they went to help Leroy off the bus. It took them a while to accomplish their task since, as I quickly learned, Leroy has dementia and had caused such a ruckus on the trip from Salt Lake to Vegas that the bus had had to pull over three times just to keep him from stealing other passengers' things (he obviously thought they were his). Eventually Gary and Roger led a very disoriented Leroy into the bus station and out onto the street.

While Gary went for his car (a very grandfatherly Lincoln sedan), a woman approached me and asked me (in Spanish) if I was related to the men. I told her I was just traveling with them and she pointed toward Leroy and explained that he had tried stealing her bag on the bus. "A man like that simply shouldn't be traveling alone!" she said. As if on cue, Leroy wandered over to the two of us and tried grabbing the woman's bag again. I took Leroy by the arm and gently lead him to the curb where Gary was waiting for us in the car.

The trip to the airport took on a quirkish excitement all its own. Gary was driving, Roger was in the passenger seat giving directions, and I was in the back making sure Leroy didn't try jumping out of the car. After giving Gary the initial directions, Roger informed us all he was going to call his wife Sally because, even though it was a little past 2am in the morning, he didn't want her to worry.

"I'm not going to call my wife" said Gary, "I told Bettie I'd be home when I got there!"

I couldn't help but laugh to myself at that one! Roger quickly had his wife on the phone, assuring her that everything was alright and that they had safely picked up Leroy. "We're gonna take just a little longer though Sal. We're taking a young lady to the airport who got stranded at the bus station. She's heading to Salt Lake!"

We were now on the free way and Roger decided to consult me about our path to the airport, "Now there are two ways to get to the airport" he said. "We can either get there on the highway or we can cut through the Strip! You decide."

"I'm okay with whatever is best for you" I said.

"Well the Strip is faster!" Roger hinted.

"The Strip it is!" I replied, and Gary took the exit to the Strip. As we drove through, Roger pointed out New York, New York, MGM Grand, the "hotel that looks like a castle," and "that other famous place on the corner."

"You know what we call tourists around here?" Roger asked me. "Tourons! One part tourist, one part moron! You don't think these buildings got this big and fancy because the owners let all the tourists win do you?" I had to admit, the name seemed very fitting.

We were now off the Strip and getting closer to the airport. Roger commented that Gary probably knew his way around this area, but Gary was quick to reply in his gravelly, small-town grandpa way of speaking: "Well, I may know my way around here, but I, in no way, would be averse to people giving me directions." So Roger pointed out the airport exit and off we went. The only problem was that we never got to the airport and somehow ended up on the freeway again. "Well how in the world did we end up here?" Gary said in confusion. "One second we were on our way to the airport and the next we're on the freeway! Young lady, you are definitely in the company of three old men! . . . Now, how do I go left?"

"There is no left."

"Well then let's go right."

After several minutes of hilarious conversation, we found our way back to the first airport exit and Gary and Roger successfully found the second exit we'd missed the first time around. All too soon we were at the airport terminal and Gary was getting my bags out of the trunk. Leroy tried to get out of the car with me, but Roger kindly informed him that he wasn't home yet and wouldn't be taking a plane either. I gave Gary and Roger both a hug goodbye and told them they were my angels and then walked into the Las Vegas airport.

It was empty. Or almost empty. A few security guards were walking back and forth through the check-in areas and I spotted a handful of travelers trying to catch some shut eye on those ridiculously uncomfortable airport chairs. I spotted a clock that said it was 2:30 in the morning. That meant it was 4:30am in Mexico and it had been almost twelve hours since I'd eaten anything and 21 hours since I'd gotten any sleep. So I found an airport wheelchair and tried as many possible ways of sleeping in it as I could until I gave up and went looking for food. I found a 24-hour snack store that charges those outrageously high prices for food-like products, and then remembered I didn't have any money. So I found an ATM and punched in random pin combinations until that got boring and wandered back to my wheelchair at the Delta check-in.

I noticed airport employees trickling in around 3:15am so I decided I'd be the first in line at check-in. By 4am I was speaking to someone at the desk, hoping for the best. The good news was that I could buy a ticket at the airport counter. The bad news was that it was hundreds of dollars, nothing in comparison to the $69 flights from Vegas to Salt Lake I had seen online. The Delta service agent helping me apologized for the high prices, but said I wouldn't find anything better for a flight that left the same day. She suggested I check out Southwest so I headed over to that line (which was considerably long by that point) and waited my turn, only to find out that the ticket was the same price.

The energy and strength I had received from my 80-year-old angels was wearing thin and I felt all my hope slipping away when I reached into my pocket and realized I had $1.50 in coins in my pocket. I had seen pay-phones earlier so I hastily made my way to the nearest one in the hopes that my parents would answer their phones now that it was almost 6am in Utah. I inserted the coins, dialed my mothers number, and then choked back tears as my mother said, "Ashley? It is so good to hear your voice!"

"It's . . . it's g-good to hear yours too!" I squeaked out. They had been praying for me. Ever since they realized my mom had missed all my calls, she and my father had been on their knees, praying for me to make it safely home. I have no doubt their prayers sent two cowboy grandpas from the-middle-of-nowhere Nevada to a Greyhound bus station in Las Vegas at 1am in the morning so they could get me back to the airport. (After telling my parents about my adventures, my dad started calling the men--including Leroy--the "Three Nephites.") After several phone calls, conversations with airline officials, and one online purchase, I had a flight to Salt Lake that left at 6:30am. It was now 5:40am and my gate was on the other side of the airport, so I ran!

I arrived at my gate right at 6am as the final passengers were boarding the plane and, panting, made it to my seat. My neighbor lent me her phone so I could text my parents and let them know I had made it on the plane, and then the final leg of my crazy journey was underway. We touched down in Salt Lake an hour later and I literally walked out of the airport and into my father's arms. Over a day without sleep and 15 hours without food, but I was home!

The rest of the day was spent stopping by my family members' work or home to surprise them (no one but my parents knew I was coming), taking a three hour nap, and then celebrating my best friend's marriage at her pre-reception in Paradise. The next day made the entire adventure worth it as I listened to the powerful promises made between God and two incredible individuals in the House of the Lord. In fact, it makes all the craziness in life make sense and gives every adventure purpose to know who we really are and who we really can become.

I thank God for his goodness in the promises he makes and the protection he gives to us in this life. As I told my taxi driver about the adventures I had had up to that point in my journey, he told me, "When I'm in those type of situations, I just think to myself that I could have just received the news that I have terminal cancer, and then it's not so bad." I've thought a lot about that since and I can see the great truth in his words. My life is so blessed. I am married to my best friend (who is an incredible man and servant of the Lord) for time and all eternity; I have an amazing, loving, and supportive family; I have been blessed with good friends; I have the priceless blessings of the fully restored gospel of Jesus Christ; and I have angels watching over me whenever the journeys of life get just a little too adventurous. God is good.

Grateful for Gratitude

About a month ago I took a bus from the State of Mexico (where Beto and I currently live) back to Irapuato, where we met--and where we thought we would spend a great deal of our life together fighting poverty in the rural villages surrounding the city. Upon arriving in Irapuato I was met by a team of BYU students and their program director who had hired me to show them around the city, find them housing, and be their guide in the rural villages where they would be working as literacy instructors throughout the summer. I was in heaven!!! It felt incredible to be involved in “development” again, I was so at home in the rural communities, and my academic cravings were beyond satiated with endless talks of Mexican culture, history, and development.

I returned home buzzing with enthusiasm, only to come crashing into the hard wall of reality. Life in Mexico had turned out to be nothing like I had planned or imagined it to be. The weekend excursion into the villages was only that, a weekend, not my life. To ease out of my development high I decided to go back and read one of my favorite books from my economic development class. The book did nothing to pacify my development cravings. To the contrary, my desire to pursue what I am truly passionate about began to consume me. And with that growing desire, I came to the sad realization that my current job is everything I loathed most in school (and I loathed very few things, so it’s actually quite impressive I managed to get a job doing something I like so little!).  A new kind of frustration started creeping into my life and I became obsessed with finding a way to make my life in Mexico exactly what I had dreamed it would be. But the harder I pushed, the more dissatisfied I became and the more my vision of what I wanted began to blur.

And then one day it hit me: I had pulled a classic Ashley mistake. Once again I had started pushing so hard to achieve something that I knew was so good (and I mean, really, what could possibly be wrong with wanting to help the poor?!) that I forgot to ask the most important question of all: What does God want? And once I realized I’d forgotten to put God in the equation, I knew I had to put Him back in. In reality, what I needed to do was repent, to reconcile myself with God and put my will back in line with His. 

Now you may be thinking, “how do you know that pursuing humanitarian work isn’t God’s will?” And I would have to say that this was exactly my line of thinking. I assumed that since it was a good thing to do, it was God’s will (and I make that mistake all the time). But, as Elder Oak’s has so nicely put it, there is a difference between good, better, and best. Putting our will in line with God’s assures that we are not only doing something good, but doing the best work God has for us in life. In my case, I discovered that it was less about what I was (or wanted to be) doing in life and had more to do with my attitude about my circumstances that had misaligned me from the will of God. To be completely honest, though, it took me a while to figure that out.

When Beto and I talked about where we were going to live once we got married, I was all for the idea of living in Mexico. Not only were we going to have a chance to spend our lives working for a humanitarian agency, life in Mexico sounded like a challenge. And I love challenges! I’ve always embraced the idea of challenges (and I often deliberately put myself in challenging situations) because I believed that challenges are what make you stronger; but, just a few weeks ago, the only thing my challenges were doing was making me bitter, frustrated, and unsatisfied with my life in Mexico.

Without God in the equation, I looked at life in Mexico and all I saw was the disappointing loss of a job (and opportunity to work in rural development), visa rejection, extreme loneliness and home sickness, moving three times in the first six months of our marriage, boredom, low wages, three robberies, endless immigration paperwork issues, car failure galore, unmerited debt, a job I didn’t like, and every once in a while, culture shock. So I figured I had a right to feel miserable.

The problem with that line of thinking was that it was getting me nowhere and I knew it was not of God. So I had one of those conversations with my Heavenly Father where I owned up to my bad attitude and sincerely asked for his forgiveness and guidance. As I prayed, the scripture “all these things shall give thee experience” came to mind.  With that single line of scripture, I knew the Lord had given me my answer. The only problem was that it wasn’t the answer I wanted; and the answer felt a little incomplete. To make a long story short, I kept asking for more direction until one day when I realized that, if I was going to receive any more revelation, I needed to act on the revelation that I had received, which was that God wants me where I am because I need the experience.

So how was I to act on the revelation to to keep doing what I was doing? Was the answer I had received really to do nothing? In my opinion, the word act automatically connotes change. So if acting on the revelation I had received did not include changing my situation, what was it that needed changing? In reality, I didn’t have to think long to figure out what my real problem was, I needed to change my attitude. It really stunk. And I knew that the best place to start when you need to change your attitude is always gratitude. President Uchtdorf stated it better than I ever could in the April 2014 General Conference when he said:

Some might say, “What do I have to be grateful for when my world is falling apart?”

Perhaps focusing on what we are grateful for is the wrong approach. It is difficult to develop a spirit of gratitude if our thankfulness is only proportional to the number of blessings we can count. True, it is important to frequently “count our blessings”—and anyone who has tried this knows there are many—but I don’t believe the Lord expects us to be less thankful in times of trial than in times of abundance and ease. In fact, most of the scriptural references do not speak of gratitude for things but rather suggest an overall spirit or attitude of gratitude.

It is easy to be grateful for things when life seems to be going our way. But what then of those times when what we wish for seems to be far out of reach?

Could I suggest that we see gratitude as a disposition, a way of life that stands independent of our current situation? In other words, I’m suggesting that instead of being thankful for things, we focus on being thankful in our circumstances—whatever they may be.

President Uchtdorf’s words spoke to my soul the very first time that I heard them, and they came flooding back into my heart when I finally realized that my unhappiness was not a result of my circumstances, but rather my attitude. What is more, I finally learned that it is not the challenges in and of themselves that make us better disciples of Christ, but the way we choose to deal with them that actually makes the difference. Having an attitude of gratitude in our trials is what turns challenges into opportunities for discipleship growth. As President Uchtdorf explained, 

Being grateful in our circumstances is an act of faith in God. It requires that we trust God and hope for things we may not see but which are true. By being grateful, we follow the example of our beloved Savior, who said, “Not my will, but thine, be done.”

True gratitude is an expression of hope and testimony. It comes from acknowledging that we do not always understand the trials of life but trusting that one day we will.

"True gratitude is an expression of hope and testimony." I love that! As I sought to be more grateful in my circumstances, I began to feel real hope for the future again. Not only that, I began to appreciate the present as well. I even started to enjoy my job! With that added measure of hope and gratitude, another little miracle occurred, I started to feel the Spirit more abundantly. And with the Spirit as a constant companion, I began to see what I couldn’t when my attitude was on the wrong end of the spectrum: I could see what I can do now to help those around me. Suddenly everything was possible and beautiful. Life in Mexico could be that incredible adventure I always thought it would be. In fact, it had been an adventure all along! I simply had not been using the eyes of gratitude that would allow me to see it. Gratitude builds hope by allowing us an optimistic perspective of life. Gratitude brings the Spirit simply by the pure nature of the act. And most importantly, a testimony built on gratitude is a a testimony built independent of our circumstances. As President Uchtdorf stated,

It must have been this kind of testimony that transformed the Savior’s Apostles from fearful, doubting men into fearless, joyful emissaries of the Master. . . . They accepted with courage and determination the torture, humiliation, and even death that would come to them because of their testimony. They were not deterred from praising and serving their Lord. They changed the lives of people everywhere. They changed the world.

How blessed we are if we recognize God’s handiwork in the marvelous tapestry of life. 

How grateful I am for gratitude and the incredible power it has to bring hope, build testimony, and create a space in our heart where the Spirit can come and help us envision all that God knows we can accomplish in this crazy beautiful world. When I finally put my will in line with the Lord’s, I remembered that the reason I had always wanted to be involved with humanitarian work was so I could be a force for good to change the world. When I let gratitude become my attitude, I realized that I will never be limited by my circumstances to achieve such a goal because the Lord is mindful of me . . . and he wants the same thing.

The Allegory of the Rejected Visa

Happy New Year to all!! Almost one year ago, to the date, Beto and I drove through the snow to the U.S. immigration office in Salt Lake City to begin investigating what paperwork would be needed if Beto and I were to live in the U.S. After that, we were sent to the Mexican embassy to figure out how the same process works in Mexico. And thus began the adventure!

Throughout the months leading up to our wedding, I made many a visit to the Mexican embassy (even more than I would have liked, actually, since the embassy does NOT answer their telephone . . . EVER.) After jumping through one hoop after another, checking and rechecking we had the right paperwork, rescheduling (and re-planning) the wedding, and sitting through one short interview, I had my visa. Then, after a little confusion at the airport (the customs official didn't know what to do with a gringa entering Cancun whose paperwork said she wasn't coming as a tourist! hehe), I was finally in Mexico. The customs official informed me that I had 30 days to present myself at the Mexican immigration office to finalize the visa paperwork.

Due to some crazy circumstances, Beto and I were not able to make it into the immigration office until Friday, October 25, three days before my time limit would be up. Unfortunately, we did not have all the paperwork, nor the time, we needed to officially submit my visa request that day and had to return on Monday (the very last day before my temporary visa expired). On the upside, we were able to turn in the paperwork on Monday. On the downside, in our rush to get everything done, I accidentally put that my passport expires May 14, 2017, when really it expires the day before. And, of course, I didn't catch the error. In fact, I didn't know that I had made the error until two weeks later when I received a letter from the immigration office informing me that my request for a temporary residence visa had been rejected because of the mistake.

At our next visit to the immigration office I confess that I did not try too hard to hide my frustration from the immigration officials. The poor man at the front desk (who really had no part in the whole situation) received the worst of my grievances as I told him of the money and time spent, the inconveniences suffered, and the countless trips made in the months-long process I had gone through just to get the visa that had now been rejected because of one error of one date by one day! As unfortunate as my situation was, however, the man would not budge and simply continued to show me the list of new documents that would need to be obtained, created, translated, sealed, presented, etc. in order to obtain a new visa.

My blood froze when he came to the fees section. There was a sanction to be paid for messing up the first visa; then there would be a fee for the new visa; and there were the fees to seal and translate my birth certificate and our marriage license; and on top of it all there were shipping fees! My mind went numb as I began to add everything up and little tears began to leak out of my eyes as I stared angrily at the government official behind the desk. Couldn't he have just a little mercy on me? I mean, really? I thought. All those documents and fees and the time and the travel and . . . and . . . everything . . . for just one little error? It simply couldn't be.  

Yet, as I rode silently back home in shock that day, I began to recognize that things had to be that way. I could not ask mercy of the law for the law does not know mercy, only justice. If I were to ask the law for mercy—and it gave in to my wishes—it would no longer be law. Why? As I so often taught my students in BYU's infamous class on the principles of America's founding, the efficacy of law depends entirely on the clarity and consistency of the law's implementation.

The philosopher Michael Mullane explained it in a rather interesting, but simple, way. The rule of law, he states, is like the "Tinkerbelle Effect"—which, as anyone who has seen Peter Pan (or especially Hook) should know—if you say you do not believe in fairies, somewhere in the world a fairy will die. The only way fairies can exist is if people believe in them. According to Mullane, it is the same with law: if we do not believe in the law, it has no significance and no power. If, however, we do believe in the laws that are instated, laws will become the backbone of an orderly and industrious society.

So, how do we go about believing or not believing in the law? First, if the law is not consistently implemented, no one will ever expect it to be implemented and will have little incentive to obey. Second, if no one obeys the law, it is as if the law did not exist. Conversely, if a law is consistently implemented, there is every incentive to obey said law because it is clear that the consequences are real. In this way, as Mullane explains, the law is both "wonderfully strong and terribly fragile.” They can empower and govern the universe if they are believed, but if they are not believed . . . they are nothing.

So, I realized, if I were to ask mercy of the immigration office (the law), I would essentially be asking the law to be what it is not. The immigration law is this: if you make an error in your documents, you must begin the process over again and pay the fees. Mercy would be forgiving the mistake and giving me my visa without asking for any other payment or paperwork. Therefore, in asking for mercy, I was basically requesting that the immigration law change its very character and no longer be law, but rather mercy—and the immigration office (the law/the Mexican government/whatever you want to call it) is not mercy.

By now you might be wondering where am I getting with all of this. Perhaps to give deeper meaning to my frustrating situation, I began to see my little encounter with the law as an allegory in the justice and mercy of God. In James 2:10 we read, "For whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all." In my case, I had done everything right up to the point when I wrote May 14, 2017 on my paperwork. I had kept the whole law for months and months, and yet I 'offended' in one point and, in the final analysis, had my visa rejected. In the eternal scheme of things, those who offend in one point (i.e. all of us) face the consequence of sin: misery due to being cut off from the presence of the Lord (Alma 42:11). One mistake. One teensy-weensy mistake and the law that states that no unclean thing can dwell in the presence of God demands our eternal damnation. Pretty tough.

Fortunately for us, unlike governments, God can be both just and merciful. Why? Because Heavenly Father is the most incredibly loving and all-knowing father and he wants us back home. He saw "that all mankind were fallen, and they were in the grasp of justice; yea, the justice of God, which consigned them forever to be cut off from his presence. And now the plan of mercy could not be brought about except an atonement should be made; therefore God himself atoneth for the sins of the world to bring about the plan of mercy, to appease the demands of justice, that God might be a perfect, just God, and a merciful God also" (Alma 42:14-15).

So what exactly does this mean? If my little visa situation could truly be compared to the eternal plan of salvation, this is how it would look: I offend in one point by putting a 14 instead of a 13 and Mexican law (justice) demands that I do the whole process over again, including paying the fees and the additional sanction for my mess-up. I look at the situation and wonder how I'm ever going to be able to pay for my one mistake. The Savior steps in and pays the price in full. In return, He asks me to complete all the required paperwork so I can learn to do it right (perfectly, in fact, as He would). If I mess up again, He pays the price again and I go back to trying to do it right. It doesn't matter how many times I mess up, nor how big my mistakes are, the Savior will continue to pay whatever the Mexican government (justice) asks for my errors. Pretty incredible. What matters to the Savior is that I'm trying to get it right.

And so it is with the eternal plan of our God: "all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23). Nevertheless, through His atonement, Christ paid the price for our sins. In return, he asks us to repent and follow him. If we mess up again, His atoning sacrifice continues to satisfy the demands of justice. It doesn't matter how many times we mess up or how big our mistakes might be, the Savior's atonement covers it. However, if we decide we no longer want to repent and follow Him, we will be subject to the demands of justice once again, for it is only by the power of the Savior that we can be saved. And what matters to the Savior is that we are trying to get it right.

In a way, we are all working on our immigration papers. Only, in this case, we are trying to immigrate back to our heavenly home. We have been given this time on earth to figure out how to "do the paperwork right" so that we may, when we leave this world, obtain heavenly citizenship. It is most likely that, when we arrive, we will be fully aware of all the mistakes we made along the way. That is when, with eternal gratitude in our hearts, we will be greeted by "him who is the advocate with the Father, who is pleading [our] cause before him—Saying: Father behold the sufferings and death of him who did no sin, in whom thou was well pleased; behold the blood of the Son which was shed, the blood of him whom thou gavest that thyself might be glorified; Wherefore, Father, spare these my brethren that believe on my name, that they may come unto me and have everlasting life" (D&C 45:3-5).

How grateful I am for a Savior who has paid the price so that we may all obtain this heavenly citizenship. May we all remember Him and continually strive to be like as we begin this new year Him so that when—through Him—we obtain that heavenly citizenship, we will know and feel that we have come home at last.