The Courage to Share
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“Two and half weeks?! Liza, it’s last summer we’re going to have to hang out before you go to college next summer!”
“I know! That’s exactly what I tried to tell my dad! But he’s forcing our whole family to go to Nauvoo and do a pageant thing down there. Trust me, I’ve tried compromising and doing everything to get out of this.”
“Ah man… it just won’t be the same without you in St. George. Or Lake Powell. Or Lagoon. Or the canyon cookouts. Or Ben’s birthday party… there’s just way too much going on that you shouldn’t have to miss!”
I sighed, trying to hold back the tears and frustration. “Seriously…”
“What even is this pageant? And what are you going to do down there besides that? Are there any amusement parks? Or malls to go shopping at?”
“It’s like a musical play reenacting the Mormon pioneers time in Nauvoo and the series of events that led them to their trek West. And there’s nothing else I can think of to do there… As far as I know, everyone just hangs out and wears hot and sweaty bonnets, long and heavy floor-length dresses, pantaloons, thick boots and socks…”
“Sounds like modest really is hottest,” my friend said trying to lighten the mood. “I’m so sorry Liza…”
“Thanks, Emily. Hopefully it’ll be okay. Though don’t be surprised if you get a call from me at least three times a day.”
The trip was off to a glorious start by squeezing seven bodies into a cramped motor home. Driving by millions of cornfields, cows, Nebraska thunderstorms, ghetto gas stations, and open plains… I was jolted awake when the car stopped. I was asleep most of the trip, and had been drowning out the noise by listening to my iPod. But here we were in Nauvoo. The car door opened and the humidity hit me like a ton of bricks. I never knew it was possible to go from cool and relaxed, to sweltering hot and suffering in less than five seconds. The owners of the RV Park welcomed us and said that we were lucky to arrive on such a “cool” evening. If this was nice weather, how in the world was I suppose to endure the average heat, and wear layers of long-sleeved pioneer clothes in the pageant? I went back in the car, blasted the air conditioning, and closed my eyes praying the next two weeks would fly by.
“Everybody from the Green cast gather round!” said the director. “The Yellow cast from the week before is now going to perform and teach you guys the ‘Welcome Dance’ in the opening scene of the pageant!”
Right off the bat I knew that this experience was going to take me out of my comfort zone real fast. My sister and I kept looking at each other and laughing as we watched them with total skepticism thinking, There is NO WAY we’re going to be doing that next week!
The director plunged us right into dance rehearsals, however, and “lucky for me”, I got paired up with my dad who has two left feet. I struggled my way through an hour of rehearsal before my feet we’re throbbing from being stepped on. Limping from the pain, I took my shoe off finding a bloody, black and blue big toe. The cast first-aid attendant came over to take a look at my battered appendage, and diagnosed me with an ingrown toenail. Really? I frustratingly thought to myself, Could this trip get any worse?! So, off we went to find a podiatrist. The closest one was a half an hour away, and I almost considered ripping out the toenail myself as we approached an ominous white shack with the paint chipping off. We walked inside to a very small doctors office with old tattered brown carpet, and the nurse directed me to sit in a gray cushioned stone that was apparently the patient’s chair. I felt like I was in a horror movie as the lights started to flicker, but the doctor came in and quickly did the job with medicine and instruments that seemed more appropriate for use in a hospital fifty years ago, but I didn’t question his motives as I sat anxiously waiting for the pain to pass. Throughout the week, further calamities began to set it.
“AHHHHHHHHHH!!! My body is on fiiiirrreeee!!!!!” was all I could say when Emily answered the phone.
“Liza! Are you okay?!”
“This trip is crazy, Emily! Things just couldn’t get any worse. I’ve tried bug spray, ointment, thick socks, long sleeves, lotion, powder, herbal treatments, medicine… but nothing will save my skin from being eaten alive!”
“Yikes! Is it just mosquitos?”
“Mosquitos and these puny bugs that live in the grass called chiggers. My bites are starting to become known as “chiquito” wounds. Ahhhh, I just wanna come home…”
“I’m sorry, Liza… And it’s only been three days! I would totally come rescue you if I could. Who knows, it could get better? Have you met anyone else our age there?”
“Well, I haven’t exactly been the most social butterfly…”
“I’d say give it a little more time… Life is full of surprises, and I’m sure Nauvoo can’t be all that bad.”
The week before we performed in the pageant, our cast was supposed to put on a “Frontier Country Fair” every evening of the week. Complete with pioneer games, food, music, dancing, and activities, we were assigned to specific areas to volunteer at. The main purpose of this event and the pageant, however, was to go out into the crowd of visitors, associate with them, and then interrogate if they knew anyone they could fill out a referral card for the missionaries to contact. I was assigned to work at the rag-tying booth, but I went and picked up three referral cards before my post started. Determined to have a more positive attitude, I thought to myself, C’mon, you can do at least three tonight. But then the moment of truth came.
“Hi! Can you teach me how to rag-tie?” said a nice blonde woman that looked about in her mid-twenties.
“Sure! Grab three rag pieces from the bucket over there, and I’ll show you.” I said.
Soon enough, the conversation drifted from the rag-tying instructions to where we lived, jobs, family, stories, what brought us each here to Nauvoo… Ask her about filling out a referral card the thought kept nagging in the back of my mind. I took a deep breath and said, “So, I was wondering…”
The woman looked up from her rag-tying with a curious expression and quizzically answered, “Yes?”
Something held my tongue. The temperature started rising. It was already a sweltering evening in my pioneer clothes, but the buckets of sweat seemed to be coming from some internal anxious terror. I sheepishly looked at the woman and hurriedly said, “Excuse me, I gotta go check something.”
Walking quickly away and not looking back, I swiftly went off to a quiet grassy, open area at the back of the fair. My thoughts were spinning and I was frustrated with myself. I know the Church is true and that it is the greatest blessing and happiest part of my life… So why am I so scared to share it with others? I asked myself. Feeling defeated, I sat and thought some more before returning back to my post. I couldn’t help but think I passed up the opportunity to make a difference in someone’s life all because I let my fear get the best of my faith. The next few nights I was determined to be courageous and speak up. Nevertheless, the lesson was not easily learned; I continued to be silent and the referral cards sat at the bottom of my apron pocket.
At the point of disappointment and despair, l reverted from my attempted positive attitude back to being a social recluse. I ceased being very open people, but on the last day or two of rehearsal someone opened up to me.
“Hey! Liza, right? I’m Sarah Lewis. I missed the dance rehearsal yesterday. Do you think you could teach it to me?”
Stumbling over our feet while laughing over the cheesy choreography—Sarah and I became instant friends. Through the last couple of rehearsals, we seemed to be intuitively drawn to each other in a crowd, and sat by each other during breaks. From our conservation I found out that she was two years younger than me, but that her brother Brian was my age. Brian began joining our conversations and soon enough we became a threesome. It was unreal. There were so many coincidences between our families and us. Before long, both of our families were spending time together and I was getting to know not only Lewis family better, but also my own.
“I know! That’s exactly what I tried to tell my dad! But he’s forcing our whole family to go to Nauvoo and do a pageant thing down there. Trust me, I’ve tried compromising and doing everything to get out of this.”
“Ah man… it just won’t be the same without you in St. George. Or Lake Powell. Or Lagoon. Or the canyon cookouts. Or Ben’s birthday party… there’s just way too much going on that you shouldn’t have to miss!”
I sighed, trying to hold back the tears and frustration. “Seriously…”
“What even is this pageant? And what are you going to do down there besides that? Are there any amusement parks? Or malls to go shopping at?”
“It’s like a musical play reenacting the Mormon pioneers time in Nauvoo and the series of events that led them to their trek West. And there’s nothing else I can think of to do there… As far as I know, everyone just hangs out and wears hot and sweaty bonnets, long and heavy floor-length dresses, pantaloons, thick boots and socks…”
“Sounds like modest really is hottest,” my friend said trying to lighten the mood. “I’m so sorry Liza…”
“Thanks, Emily. Hopefully it’ll be okay. Though don’t be surprised if you get a call from me at least three times a day.”
The trip was off to a glorious start by squeezing seven bodies into a cramped motor home. Driving by millions of cornfields, cows, Nebraska thunderstorms, ghetto gas stations, and open plains… I was jolted awake when the car stopped. I was asleep most of the trip, and had been drowning out the noise by listening to my iPod. But here we were in Nauvoo. The car door opened and the humidity hit me like a ton of bricks. I never knew it was possible to go from cool and relaxed, to sweltering hot and suffering in less than five seconds. The owners of the RV Park welcomed us and said that we were lucky to arrive on such a “cool” evening. If this was nice weather, how in the world was I suppose to endure the average heat, and wear layers of long-sleeved pioneer clothes in the pageant? I went back in the car, blasted the air conditioning, and closed my eyes praying the next two weeks would fly by.
“Everybody from the Green cast gather round!” said the director. “The Yellow cast from the week before is now going to perform and teach you guys the ‘Welcome Dance’ in the opening scene of the pageant!”
Right off the bat I knew that this experience was going to take me out of my comfort zone real fast. My sister and I kept looking at each other and laughing as we watched them with total skepticism thinking, There is NO WAY we’re going to be doing that next week!
The director plunged us right into dance rehearsals, however, and “lucky for me”, I got paired up with my dad who has two left feet. I struggled my way through an hour of rehearsal before my feet we’re throbbing from being stepped on. Limping from the pain, I took my shoe off finding a bloody, black and blue big toe. The cast first-aid attendant came over to take a look at my battered appendage, and diagnosed me with an ingrown toenail. Really? I frustratingly thought to myself, Could this trip get any worse?! So, off we went to find a podiatrist. The closest one was a half an hour away, and I almost considered ripping out the toenail myself as we approached an ominous white shack with the paint chipping off. We walked inside to a very small doctors office with old tattered brown carpet, and the nurse directed me to sit in a gray cushioned stone that was apparently the patient’s chair. I felt like I was in a horror movie as the lights started to flicker, but the doctor came in and quickly did the job with medicine and instruments that seemed more appropriate for use in a hospital fifty years ago, but I didn’t question his motives as I sat anxiously waiting for the pain to pass. Throughout the week, further calamities began to set it.
“AHHHHHHHHHH!!! My body is on fiiiirrreeee!!!!!” was all I could say when Emily answered the phone.
“Liza! Are you okay?!”
“This trip is crazy, Emily! Things just couldn’t get any worse. I’ve tried bug spray, ointment, thick socks, long sleeves, lotion, powder, herbal treatments, medicine… but nothing will save my skin from being eaten alive!”
“Yikes! Is it just mosquitos?”
“Mosquitos and these puny bugs that live in the grass called chiggers. My bites are starting to become known as “chiquito” wounds. Ahhhh, I just wanna come home…”
“I’m sorry, Liza… And it’s only been three days! I would totally come rescue you if I could. Who knows, it could get better? Have you met anyone else our age there?”
“Well, I haven’t exactly been the most social butterfly…”
“I’d say give it a little more time… Life is full of surprises, and I’m sure Nauvoo can’t be all that bad.”
The week before we performed in the pageant, our cast was supposed to put on a “Frontier Country Fair” every evening of the week. Complete with pioneer games, food, music, dancing, and activities, we were assigned to specific areas to volunteer at. The main purpose of this event and the pageant, however, was to go out into the crowd of visitors, associate with them, and then interrogate if they knew anyone they could fill out a referral card for the missionaries to contact. I was assigned to work at the rag-tying booth, but I went and picked up three referral cards before my post started. Determined to have a more positive attitude, I thought to myself, C’mon, you can do at least three tonight. But then the moment of truth came.
“Hi! Can you teach me how to rag-tie?” said a nice blonde woman that looked about in her mid-twenties.
“Sure! Grab three rag pieces from the bucket over there, and I’ll show you.” I said.
Soon enough, the conversation drifted from the rag-tying instructions to where we lived, jobs, family, stories, what brought us each here to Nauvoo… Ask her about filling out a referral card the thought kept nagging in the back of my mind. I took a deep breath and said, “So, I was wondering…”
The woman looked up from her rag-tying with a curious expression and quizzically answered, “Yes?”
Something held my tongue. The temperature started rising. It was already a sweltering evening in my pioneer clothes, but the buckets of sweat seemed to be coming from some internal anxious terror. I sheepishly looked at the woman and hurriedly said, “Excuse me, I gotta go check something.”
Walking quickly away and not looking back, I swiftly went off to a quiet grassy, open area at the back of the fair. My thoughts were spinning and I was frustrated with myself. I know the Church is true and that it is the greatest blessing and happiest part of my life… So why am I so scared to share it with others? I asked myself. Feeling defeated, I sat and thought some more before returning back to my post. I couldn’t help but think I passed up the opportunity to make a difference in someone’s life all because I let my fear get the best of my faith. The next few nights I was determined to be courageous and speak up. Nevertheless, the lesson was not easily learned; I continued to be silent and the referral cards sat at the bottom of my apron pocket.
At the point of disappointment and despair, l reverted from my attempted positive attitude back to being a social recluse. I ceased being very open people, but on the last day or two of rehearsal someone opened up to me.
“Hey! Liza, right? I’m Sarah Lewis. I missed the dance rehearsal yesterday. Do you think you could teach it to me?”
Stumbling over our feet while laughing over the cheesy choreography—Sarah and I became instant friends. Through the last couple of rehearsals, we seemed to be intuitively drawn to each other in a crowd, and sat by each other during breaks. From our conservation I found out that she was two years younger than me, but that her brother Brian was my age. Brian began joining our conversations and soon enough we became a threesome. It was unreal. There were so many coincidences between our families and us. Before long, both of our families were spending time together and I was getting to know not only Lewis family better, but also my own.
 |
“So, how many referrals did you guys get last week?” I asked.
“Um… that’s not entirely relevant…” Brian said as he laughed with an embarrassed smirk.
“What do you mean? I bet you guys probably got at least 20! Seriously you two are the friendliest people I know!”
Brian and Sarah both smiled, but then looked at me and returned the question by asking, “Well how many referrals did you get, Liza?”
I began to laugh too as I mimicked Brian’s response and said, “Um… well that’s not entirely relevant either…”
“Were you scared? Cause we sure were!” Sarah laughed.
“Exactly!” I eagerly agreed. “I don’t know what it was though! I know the Gospel is true, and I was so set on sharing my testimony with others, or asking people if they knew anyone they could fill out a referral card for, but I was having the hardest time just mustering up the courage to even speak. I don’t know if it was the fear of being rejected, or offending someone, but something was holding me back.”
“Liza! Why didn’t we meet sooner last week?!” Brian exclaimed. “Sheesh, Sarah and I had the same problem. But I’ve done a lot of thinking, and have realized that no one is an exception to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. No one can truly experience a fullness of joy without the knowledge this Church offers, and because we have this knowledge it is our duty and responsibility to share it. If they reject our offer, so be it. If they walk away offended, not our problem. At least we tried, eh? I vote we all go out together tonight and invite as many people as we can to fill out a referral card!”
With a new sense of courage and conviction I smiled and nodded my head in approval. As we approached perfect strangers the fear was not totally gone, but began to dissipate with the combined support and faith of my friends. This must be one of the reasons why missionaries have companions, I thought and smiled to myself.
By the end of the night, twelve referral cards were filled out. I was beaming at the thought those twelve individuals had the potential to discover a life of eternal joy. I hoped they would all accept the message of the Gospel. The number wasn’t large in comparison to some of the other cast members efforts, but it was complete satisfaction for Brian, Sarah, and me. After the experience, however, I knew that there was at least one referral left to go and only I could offer the invitation. As I walked back to the RV Park and pondered how I would propose this invitation, my phone began to ring.
“Hey Liza! How have things been since we last talked?” Emily’s chipper voice said from the other line.
“Really good actually! I have lots of things to tell you when I get back.”
“You sound happy Liza! I’m glad things have begun to look up. I’m excited to hear about everything when you get home.”
“I’m excited too,” I responded. But then the moment of truth came. Inhaling a deep breath and slowly exhaling, I braced myself and said, “Emily?”
“Yes, Liza?” she replied slightly confused.
“Um… would you want to come to church with me on Sunday when I get home?"
Emily and me on her baptism day
Wow! Love your story. Clearly you show change on several levels. You could edit down some of your tags. The dialogue is written well enough that you don't need "exclaimed" and so on.
ReplyDeleteInstead of saying they wear pioneer clothes, give some specifics such as bonnets, skirts to the ground, etc.
Consider ending on your question to Emily in your story. Then put the picture and let the reader read the caption.
I thought this was a great narrative. I could easily see where and how you changed throughout the story. I did think it was a little confusing when you talked about being paired up with your dad. Did you actually consider yourself lucky, or were you being feciscious because he is a bad dancer? I would also mention that Emily was not a member some how. When you said that you only had one referral to go, I thought you were going to find that woman near the beginning and giver her a card, so maybe suggest that you were going to talk to Emily. It is your decision though. Lastly read through it slowly and allowed because there were a couple errors, or confusing sentences.
ReplyDeleteI was completely lost in the middle with your conversation with Emily, you didn't say in anyway how you were communicating with her. Perhaps more description on that pageant, As being a non-member I don't know about any of these LDS processes and festivities. Perhaps more description on the setting, it would be great to know how much time has passes or where the conversation was taking place. other than that I really liked how you showed your change.
ReplyDelete