"In His strength I can do all things"

Not long after the last experience, in my first area of my LDS mission, I found that Christ is the perfect example.

That's right, another story from my first area of my mission. I learned a lot in that first area. It was a hard area and my first experience as a missionary. It was one of the smallest areas in the mission, and we had little to no work as my first transfer came to a close. The last week of each transfer, we had deep cleaning day. This is where the story begins as I was stuck in the apartment cleaning.

My mind slowly turned to my family as I was alone and didn’t have any source of communication for a while and wasn’t reading.

‘I miss them so much. I wonder what they are doing right now,’ I thought. My mind began coming up with scenarios of what we would be doing all together if I was there. I was beginning to get homesick, but I couldn’t stop myself.

‘What about the work here?’ I thought,trying to focus my mind onto the work we had in Alençon. ‘Who am I kidding, we have nothing here. The branch is tiny, there hasn’t been a baptism in over a year. The most recently scheduled one went down in terrible flames.’

Tears formed in my eyes and I couldn’t help but return to what my family was doing and how I missed them so much. I held the tears back as best I could, but slowly couldn’t see well, so I washed my hands and wiped my tears away. I walked out into the main room and grabbed my scriptures.

I went into the bedroom and opened my scriptures which seemed to fall open to Alma 26. It was a chapter about the sons of Mosiah and their work among the Lamanites. Ammon glories in God in having the opportunity to convert so many.

One of my favorite scriptures. I just threw this graphic together.

“3 Behold, I answer for you; for our brethren, the Lamanites, were in darkness, yea, even in the darkest abyss, but behold, how many of them are brought to behold the marvelous light of God! And this is the blessing which hath been bestowed upon us, that we have been made instruments in the hands of God to bring about this great work.

4 Behold, thousands of them do rejoice, and have been brought into the fold of God.

5 Behold, the field was ripe, and blessed are ye, for ye did thrust in the sickle, and did reap with your might, yea, all the day long did ye labor; and behold the number of your sheaves! And they shall be gathered into the garners, that they are not wasted...

12 Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in His strength I can do all things; yea, behold, many mighty miracles we have wrought in this land for which we will praise his name forever.

13 Behold, how many thousands of our brethren has he loosed from the pains of hell; and they are brought to sing redeeming love, and this because of the power of his word which is in us, therefore have we not great reason to rejoice?”

I looked up from my scriptures and out into the hallway. Just outside on the wall, a painting of Jesus Christ hung on the wall. It was the painting with him like it was a portrait in the red robe and white clothing underneath.

This is the painting that was hanging outside in the hallway. I love this painting of Christ.

‘He was away from His Father for 33 years, and I’m whining about two years,’ I thought to myself. My tears were now gone. ‘He and His Father knew that He was going to His death, but still both agreed to let the process be done. I can do this. I will see my parents in two years, it isn’t that long. “For in His strength, I can do all things.”’

This proves to me that the Lord is always aware of us individually again. I also found that Christ did everything in His life because of and for us. He lived for us; He died for us. He is the example that everyone should be striving to become.

"He hath attended to...my prayer"

Fast-forward a few years to my time at the MTC. Not that I didn't have any special experiences in high school, but I chose to skip over them. I considered writing about the Pioneer Trek, but I must have repressed those memories a bit.

This time, I found that God answers prayers immediately when He feels it is necessary. I also learned His plan is perfect.

The Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah is basically a religious school/prison. Don't get me wrong, the MTC is a great place to begin to learn a language and learn more of what you'll be teaching for two years on a mission, but you're basically trapped in that place.

I was at the MTC before the Church reduced the time missionaries need to spend there, so I was there for two whole months. About three weeks in, I was finally settling in and enjoying my district of 11 other missionaries when I got a letter from my dad.

I looked forward to letters from my dad because he always kept me updated in sports. This letter was different though. In this particular letter, he told me that Rick Ence had passed away. My dad shared this because they are the same age. He told me because I went to high school with one of his sons.

Justin Ence was the football star in high school. I thought for sure that kid was going to go big in football, but I think playing quarterback and safety hurt his chances even though he could've been a star safety in college (think Eric Weddle-type player).

Justin wasn't a close friend, but everyone knew who he was because of football. He was popular in high school, but is one of the most down-to-earth people you'll meet. He is always nice to me and everyone he ever came in contact with.

Here is Justin on his wedding day with his mother. He married his high school sweetheart, Jesslin. I stole this picture from her Facebook page.

When Rick passed away, Justin was serving his mission in Brazil. I read the letter and my heart sank. The world seemed to dim.

At the end of the letter, my dad told me Justin got to talk with his family and was told that Rick wouldn't have wanted him to come home for this. His brother's told him to finish his mission, which he did.

That night, at the MTC, I prayed one of the most fervent prayers I have ever given in my life. I don't remember everything that I said, but I remember asking for the Ence family to be comforted and that they all would understand His plan. I also asked that I may understand His plan and why these things happen at times like this. I felt the most calm feeling come upon me at that time.

I felt like I received an answer almost immediately that the Lord knows what He is doing and that He needed Rick for work on the other side. I still can remember this feeling over 7 years later. I don't think I'll ever forget it. 

Here is a picture of Rick Ence. He was 49 when he passed away. He would've turned 57 two weeks ago.

This is an example of how the Lord has a plan at all times, even if it hurts our finite, mortal minds here. He also answers prayers immediately when necessary. I didn't really ever meet Rick, but I will never forget him and his family because of this special moment.

"So shall I keep the testimony..."

Continuing through my little snippets of life and proofs that God and Christ live, comes the next time I remember feeling the Spirit stronger than on normal occasions.

This one proves that God answers questions that you didn't even know you had. He also answers it in ways that speaks to individuals and probably not crowds of people at a time.

In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, we do a testimony meeting every first Sunday of each month. This is a chance for members to come out of the congregation and share their testimonies. Other weeks at church, we have members that have been asked to speak to the congregation, generally from that specific ward.

I don't remember if this happened during testimony meeting or during a talk, but I just remember my dad was up at the pulpit speaking. I'm 14 years old at this point and just reveling in the fact that my dad was up at the pulpit. At 14 years old, I hadn't learned a ton about the Gospel, and didn't really fully have a testimony, so I was subconsciously looking for one, even if I didn't know I was.

A little background about my dad before I continue. My dad is not the type of person that likes attention, so bearing his testimony during testimony meeting would be quite the feat, which would make this even more impressive if it was just testimony meeting. 

Here is my dad and I at my white coat ceremony earlier this year.

Jumping back to my dad at the pulpit, he was talking about the prophet Joseph Smith. Typically at the end of talks, people bear their testimony, so my dad was finishing up in the same fashion.

Here is what I remember him saying (not verbatim probably): "...To think that Joseph Smith was only 14 years old when he experienced the First Vision and saw God the Father and His Son Jesus Christ, is incredible. 14 years old! I can't help but think that's my son's age now. Wow...."

Prior to this point, I don't remember him bearing his testimony or sharing many spiritual moments with me or anyone else really. That doesn't mean he didn't, but that I never really listened/heard it.

It was at this point that I felt like I needed to search things out, especially about Joseph Smith. Within the LDS Church, everything leans on whether Joseph Smith was a prophet and inspired or not. This is the furthest back that I can track where I started to seek out Joseph's teachings and have fallen in love with the Gospel of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.

This has proved that the Lord answers prayers that people didn't even know they have. It also shows that he speaks to us individually through others. What my dad said was probably just words to some people, but it helped me in numberless ways.

"By small and simple things..."

With a week left before Christmas, I wanted to find something that I could share that would help bring about the Spirit of Christ.

I was sitting at a Christmas party when this memory came back strong, so I thought I would share it along with a number of others that I remember when I felt the Spirit strong in my life. These few stories are just a small glimpse into why I know that God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, are real.

This first story proves that not only does God answer prayers, but that he is aware of each of us.

While living in warm, sunny St. George, Utah, people could do anything outdoors most days of the year. When I was younger (probably about 12 years old), my family's house faced towards a cul-de-sac where some kids had made a ramp for when they skateboarded.

The kids that skateboarded were actually pretty good at it and were a year older than me, so I didn't really hang out with them. Every once in awhile we could see them skateboarding and they were fun to watch.

One day, I was hanging out with my friend, Austin Baird, and we were heading to the movies or something, but waiting for someone to pick us up. We stepped outside for just a moment to see if whoever it was picking us up was there, but they weren't.

Here is Austin now. I stole this from his and his wife's Facebook page.

Down the street in the cul-de-sac, Tyler Cozzens fell from his skateboard and immediately started writhing on the ground. Even from the distance Austin and I were from them, we knew he had hit his head and was having a seizure. His friends and family started scrambling, making immediate decisions.

"What should we do?" I asked Austin as we both seemed breathless and terrified of what we just witnessed.

"We could say a prayer," Austin offered as we stepped inside the house and as we did so, the driver pulled up to pick us up.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," I replied, still in shock about what was just seen.

"Ok, do you want to say it?" He asked, obviously not as distressed as I felt.

"No. You should say it," I responded.

Austin said a prayer, asking that Tyler would be ok. I immediately felt a calm wash over me.

We stepped outside and saw Tyler getting up from his seizure. He was fine. I was even more relieved than I was from Austin's prayer. We went wherever we were headed and thought no more of it. Tyler was fine after some slight recovering I believe.

LDS ad from lds.org.

Looking back on this now, I realize the power of prayer. We were two punk kids that luckily had been brought up well to the point that we thought prayer was an appropriate response to a critical moment. Maybe our prayer didn't have any effect on the outcome of the seizure, but it wasn't as much about that as it was about the Spirit of Christ that was felt and recognized that day.

As for the Lord being aware of each of us, the Lord knew that this could be a teaching/defining moment in our lives, so he prepared us to have the opportunity to say the prayer.

The Five People I'll Meet In Heaven: Part 5

If you missed part one and all the reasons why I'm writing this, click here.
If you missed part two, click here.
For part three, click here.
And part four, here.

Many of you might know this already, but I was fortunate enough to serve my LDS mission in Paris, France. I loved my mission and look forward to the day that I can revisit some areas from my mission. I also look forward to the day that I can serve another mission with the companion of my choice, Kaylee.

I arrived in France just before Christmas on December 21, 2010. My first couple of days were a struggle because it was Christmas time, and I was stuck in a different country where people don't speak much English. I was excited, but jet lag didn't allow me to show that.

I got to meet some of the most amazing people in France. This story takes place in my very first area though. It was the end of the year in Alençon, France, which is in the Normandy region of France. I was still very 'bleu' in the mission, which meant I was new (our mission's version of greeny). I didn't dare talk in French because I knew I was going to make mistakes.

Alençon is a very small city. In fact, it is one of (if not the) smallest city in the mission. I wouldn't be surprised if most of the city had already had contact with the missionaries because of the size of the city.

This is the Halle au ble. This building is what I always think of when I imagine the city of Alençon.

One bitter cold night in Alençon during my first couple of weeks, somewhere between Christmas and New Year's, my companion, Elder McQuay, and I were out knocking on doors. In France, we called this porting because 'la porte' is 'the door.'

We knocked on a door and a man answered. Elder McQuay went through his opening lines. Elder McQuay generally spoke because I didn't dare, so he introduced us and the Book of Mormon to the guy.

“Non, ça ne m’interesse pas (No, that doesn't interest me),” the man responded. He didn’t move to shut the door like everyone else did though. He just stood there looking at us. I stood there awkwardly not knowing what to say.

Elder McQuay offered him a Book of Mormon, which he reluctantly reached for. I hadn't spoken during a contact up to this point because I didn't usually understand what was being said. This man just looked at us with a sad face. I seemed to follow the conversation a little better this time, so I decided this was my chance to speak.

“Monsieur,” I stammered. “Je sais que le Livre de Mormon est la parole de Dieu (I know the Book of Mormon is the word of God).

I continued by telling him I knew that by reading the Book of Mormon, he could come closer to God. It was broken French, I’m sure, but it was definitely by the power of the Spirit. The man didn't say anything. He just stood there staring at me. His eyes started to water as he blinked more and more. I didn't know what else to say, so I stood there watching him intently. He started weeping with no noise. His eyes were sad and I knew there was a story behind them that would explain everything.

"If you want, we could talk more about this book now," Elder McQuay took over the conversation in French.

"No," he responded simply. "I can't."

"We could come back another time and talk about it also, if that works better," Elder McQuay said.

"No," he responded again. He again chose not to back away and leave us, so we just stood there quietly for a moment.

"I'm sorry, I need to go," he said, breaking the silence. He turned to walk inside and close the door.

"Well, if you ever want to talk, here is our card with our number," Elder McQuay said, finishing the conversation and giving him a pass-along card.

We never saw or spoke to this man again. I couldn't even tell you exactly what he looked like. Sometimes people help shape your life without you even knowing who they are. This was the night I realized what my purpose was as a missionary and that I could speak in French. I'll always remember that man and the feeling I felt that day.

Well, there you have it. It took longer than I anticipated, but that is the end of my exhaustive accounts of five people who have helped shape my life to be the person I am today. Thank you for reading. 

It wasn't easy to narrow it down to five people, just know that chances are that if you know me personally, you've probably had an impact on my life also.

The Five People I'll Meet In Heaven: Part 4

If you missed part one and all the reasons why I'm writing this, click here.
If you missed part two, click here.
For part three, click here.

From the fourth person, I learned the meaning of hard work and professionalism.

My first job was at the Washington City Community Center as a lifeguard. I enjoyed being a lifeguard, but as I quit, I told myself I would never go back to work there.

Upon returning home from my mission in the France, Paris mission, I got a job at Young Electric Sign Company (YESCO) as a Night Patrol Specialist. That meant, I drove around at night and took pictures of broken or unlit signs. The job was a lot of fun and I still can't drive passed a sign without noticing what's wrong with it. The only issue with the job was the amount of work I could do. I could obviously only do the job at night, so I had more hours in winter than I did in the summer.

Next, I picked up a freelancing job at The Spectrum & Daily News thanks to my sports editor, Shelby, at Dixie State while I wrote for the Dixie Sun News. This, I did while also working for YESCO.

Then, I got engaged to Kaylee. It was then, that I knew I needed another job that wasn't so random with the hours. It was then that I went back to the Washington City Community Center.

Here is the pool and play structure at the WCCC. 

I got the job as the Aquatic Rental Supervisor. I was in charge of the rentals and I was basically jumping into a brand new title. The only remaining person from when I was a lifeguard was Skyler Howes. He was in charge of the lifeguards now. My boss was going to be Benjamin Rae. I stayed in this job until we moved North for pharmacy school.

I lived in Cedar City and commuted to St. George because I loved working with the people I worked with and especially Ben. He taught me a ton about how to work. He was the type of person who would work all day to get something done if needed.

One of the most admirable things about Ben and his work ethic was how many menial tasks he would do. He doesn't just ask someone to do something, he goes out and helps do that task. The worst tasks weren't exempt either. He was always there to help with moving the basketball hoops and water rollers, even though everyone hated moving those. On top of that, he would do his own work of making sure everything ran smoothly and well.  

I don't know how, but he went back to school to finish his master's degree while also working full time at the community center and after getting the job as head coach of the Dixie State women's swim team. He has three kids and is also the Elder's quorum president in his ward.

"I don't think God intended us to have free time," Ben told me one day when I asked how he planned on doing all of this.

Even though I don't necessarily agree, he did it. He should be finished with his master's degree now. Hopefully, for his sake, he is no longer the Elder's Quorum president. He's still coaching the DSU swim team. He must have so much time on his hands now.

Here are the some of the people I was privileged to work with at the WCCC. From right to left: Barry Blake, Wendi Bulkley, Dustin Halterman and Ben Rae.

I also learned a ton about how to be professional. While I was working, we had a guy come train us on customer service over a period of a few weeks. Living in Cedar City, I didn't catch all of the trainings, but even when I did, Ben explained them much better than I understood them.

Thanks to Ben for showing me how to be the best professional, worker, person and individual I can be.

The Five People I'll Meet In Heaven: Part 3

If you missed part one and all the reasons why I'm writing this, click here.
If you missed part two, click here.

The third person I think had a big impact on my life is one of the toughest, most joyful people I've ever met.

I was eight when we moved to St. George, one of my first friends I found after we moved was Zack Kolb. I still consider him one of my good friends, even if we don't talk much anymore. Another one of my good friends, who, like Zack I don't talk to a lot, is Austin. The three of us always tried to get back together when we were all in town at the same time when Austin moved away.

New York Yankee legend Lou Gehrig. He relates to this person in an unfortunate way.

The story starts on a hot summer day in 2010. Austin and I were at Austin's parent's house, where I anticipated Zack would arrive shortly.

Austin's phone then started to ring and he quickly answered it, "Hello?"

"Are you coming over?" I hate listening to people on the phone because I only get the half of the conversation. "What?! What's that? ... Dude, that is terrible. ... The doctor is sure?"

Now I was listening intently to any clues as to what they were talking about. My mind started racing, what could have been going on. Kreg had already had testicular cancer and was rid of that, or so I thought. Was it possible that he could have had it again, or maybe another cancer? My head was spinning.

"Ok, bud, we'll talk to you later. See ya," Austin ended the phone call and hung up.

"What's up?" I asked quickly after he had hung up. "What's wrong?"

"Kreg, man-" Austin started. He seemed to still be trying to mull it all over for himself. "He has Lou Gehrig's disease. I'm not even sure I know what that is. Do you know?"

"That's not good," Ausitn's dad, Robert, said simply.

"What?! Lou Gehrig's, that’s terrible. That's the disease where your body slowly just shuts down on you. There are not a lot of people that have this problem. That is-" I replied. I didn't know what kind of word I wanted to use to finish that. My head was really spinning now. I felt sick.

'Kreg has Lou Gherig's Disease, but don't tell anyone,' I sent in a text to my parents and my sisters to give them a head’s up. The room was still pretty quiet. The only sound was coming from the television, and even that seemed distant and muffled. There was just nothing that needed to be said at this time. There was nothing more than what we said. There was nothing important enough to break this moment of silence.

The rest of the day was solemn. I had fun hanging out with Austin, but there just wasn't anything that we could do that could get rid of the terrible thought that Kreg was super sick and the doctors had only given him about a year to live.

A few weeks later, I received my mission call and the Kolb family came over to see where I was going. This was the first time that I had seen Kreg since he was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's disease.

"Yeah, I get diagnosed with this, and the Relief Society President of my ward is at my house before I even get home," Kreg said as we were talking about how he was doing before I opened my call. He was just as happy as ever.

"Yeah," I started. "Sorry about that. That was my bad. I texted my mom and the word got out quickly. I didn't think it would move that quickly."

"Yi! Yi! Not a problem." Kreg replied with a laugh in his cheerful voice. "People were going to know."

I left a little while later for my mission in France. I chose to write a letter to Zack when I got to my second area having heard from my family that Kreg was still in good spirits, but was losing function in part of his body.

"It's another beautiful day in St. George," he said over and over even though it seemed day-by-day he got worse.

On May 25th, 2011, Kreg passed away. This man taught me that through whatever you're going through, you can smile and still see the good in the world. He fought through one of the toughest diseases I can think of. He was always cheerful, and I hope to achieve even a small amount of happiness that he lived and helped others live.

"Not gone, just gone ahead. Yi! Yi!"