Helping at an Accident Scene

Today I drove home like normal. When I was nearly home I came upon an accident scene. An SUV had rolled and was sitting in the middle of the street. A few people were nearby.

I felt pulled like I had to get out of the car and help. As I did so, I hurried to the other side of the vehicle and with a few others looked at the lifeless body on the ground. The woman was dead and even though we checked for a pulse and signs of life, we all pretty much knew it once we got there.

After a brief look for anything helpful in and around the car my attention turned to the three children being looked after a few cars down. One was the woman's child, a 10-year-old girl. The other two were her grandchildren. They didn't know for certain if the lady was okay. We didn't elaborate.

Like when I felt I needed to leave my vehicle, I felt compelled to remain with the children. I hadn't seen the accident nor had I actually even touched anything at this point, but I knew inside I needed to remain. A kind woman, an elementary school teacher, was interacting with the children to keep them focused on other things. I joined her and let this teacher go and see how bad things were so she knew what to say around the children - I didn't want to promise them their grandma/mother would be okay.

One girl, aged seven, named Evie became my focus. The little baby was being held and the 10-year-old seemed to have enough support. I hugged Evie and stayed nearby as EMS workers, cops, and other bystanders continued to come to the scene. One person had seen the accident - the woman had been driving too fast and didn't make the turn at the curve in the road on time.

At some moment, while they were checking the vitals of the children and calling for help transporting them I stopped and looked down. Just off the road was a crystal - nothing fancy, just some quartz that looked like an ordinary rock on the outside. I picked it up and held it, knowing it was meant for one of the kids.

Moments later, Evie needed to have a neck-brace put on as a precaution. She was not happy and despite the kindly teacher and the EMS workers' gentle attempts at persuasion she was only getting more anxious and nearly sobbing. I let them try to help her, but then the feeling grew within me to give the rock to Evie,

I interrupted the two adults and speaking directly to the girl, said, "Evie, do you see this rock? It is a crystal and has the power to help you. I want you to squeeze it in your hand when you are scared and it will help you to be brave. Hold on to it." She took the rock and accepted the neck brace without further fuss.

That was it. I didn't really interact any further with the kids. Eventually they were hauled away in ambulances to the hospital to await family members' arrivals. The police had me move my car (which was conveniently parked over the skids marks and oddly protecting the dirt tracks in the road that the SUV had made).  I left and went home.

The emotions of the event are deep and profound. I want to weep and throw myself on my bed. I felt rather helpless there. I knew God was using this to teach me something.

But, I also know I was there to help Evie. For some reason, God wanted me to reach out to her and provide her with a bit of hope and peace. I feel like I was a guardian angel for a minute. It may not be a significant part in my life, but perhaps it was significant to her.

If God can send a simple man like me to provide a few moments of peace to a random girl on the street, then He can surely help any of us when we need it. He knows us and cares for us. He will lead and guide us. Trust in Him

I'm Not Meant to Be a Chicken

Today in sacrament meeting we had a couple of recent converts speak on their conversions and their faith. It was really uplifting to listen to and if you know them you are proud of every step they take because they are awesome. We heard about their lives and their trip to the temple to do baptisms for the dead and were inspired by their courage. The husband in particular was able to speak to my soul.

He shared a story...

...about a baby eagle that fell from its nest and was raised as a chicken. This eagle was content to behave this way and didn't know any different. Finally a naturalist came and spoke to the farmer about the eagle.  

The naturalist tried twice to get the eagle to fly from the farm by placing him up on a fence post and telling him he was more than a chicken. Both times the bird looked back at his adopted home and feeling comfortable there, jumped back down and remained with the chickens. The farmer explained that he was no longer an eagle. 

Finally the naturalist took the eagle far away to a mountain top and tried again. He told the bird who he truly was and allowed him to view the landscape below. Without the comfort of his home the bird was ready to try and he soared.

Finishing this story, the brother stated he was the eagle and he had to be removed from his comfort zone to finally rise to his potential.

For months I have felt so inadequate and weak in my new home, work, and church callings. In our last town I was important and doing well. My teaching was appreciated and needed - with high test scores that were improving. My church work wasn't huge, but I played the organ and taught classes and felt needed and capable of serving. Our home life made sense with me working during the day and my wife working at night more for her sanity than anything, but she loved it.

Now I work in a big city in a different state. I am one of 30 math teachers instead of nine. With new textbooks, all regular kids (I've always had 2 classes of honors kids each year), and a high school known for high achievement - I feel incapable a lot. Throw in the fact that my wife is pregnant and stressing over the messes our children make in the home, my church callings that don't fit my personality and skill sets, and you have a recipe for low self-esteem.

Then that talk was given in church today and I heard the words "out of my comfort zone" and felt the Spirit whisper, "You are here because you are meant to be more. You need this to learn and grow into something greater than you could have been where you were." I felt a little peace and knew I wasn't struggling aimlessly.

Sure, I will continue to feel that I am not up to the task. I surely don't do everything I am supposed to do in order to be perfect in all the parts of my life, but who does? Only those who either have sweat through the hard times or those who refuse to leave the comfort of the hen house to soar up where they belong.

I know that life will continue to be challenging and I am positive I will keep struggling just to stand on my feet and say "I'm okay." However, I know that my Savior stands with me. He continues to led and guide me through his Holy Spirit and the messages of hope and peace he sends my way. I will take the road less traveled on to be the man he needs me to be.

...As We Forgive Our Debtors

As I was about to go to bed and was saying a prayer in the hallway (everyone was asleep in their beds) I struggled to find expressions for what I wanted to say. My heart has been morose of late and I've had difficulty finding the source (or sources). Is it my job? My schedule? Am I eating enough? What about my dedication to my faith? Have I slackened and am reaping consequences?

Well, maybe the answer is more simple. Perhaps I have been unable to release my emotions properly because I haven't been able to let go of the hurt I feel others have given me.

Here me out.

In the last General Conference (October 2015, Saturday morning session) there was a very powerful message given by Sister Neill F. Marriott (2nd Counselor in the Young Women General Presidency). She said:

...perhaps I have a carefully guarded resentment toward someone. When I ask if there is more to confess, that “secret” comes clearly to my memory. In essence, the Holy Ghost is whispering, “You honestly asked if there was more, and here it is. Your resentment diminishes your progress and damages your ability to have healthy relationships. You can let this go.” Oh, it is hard work—we may feel quite justified in our animosity—but yielding to the Lord’s way is the only way to lasting happiness.

I've listened to this talk on my commute multiple times and it gets more pointed and powerful each time - especially in sequence with the preceding conference talks from that session. It struck me this last time that I had some "carefully guarded" resentments towards others. Nothing huge I suppose, but things like people who disagreed with my wife, students who treated me with no respect and treated their selves worse, etc. I found that I purposefully avoid contacting them and I had begun to dismiss their successes or feel jealous of their accomplishments.

Shortly after this revelation, I had a different kind of prayer in my heart than normal. I began asking the Lord to bless these people - some of whom are the very best you could know and deserve none of the anger I had for them. I begged my Savior to heal the broken hearts of those who turly had lashed out at me and did so by name. I began to understand (in a small measure) the words the Savior spoke to both the people in Jerusalem and in the Americas.

But behold I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them who despitefully use you and persecute you (3 Nephi 12:44, see also Matthew 5:44)

As I did so, my heart became lighter. A couple who are very generous souls and who do many philanthropic things became beautiful again in my eyes (unstained by the undeserved animosity I placed on them). A couple of students who gave me so much grief last year became hurt, little boys who needed love and care.

Sadly, I've only just begun. I have stored so much hurt inside that I know I will need time to release it all. I don't need to confront people from my past and give them what for, but rather the opposite - I need to see them in the light of the Savior and love them. Then will my heart be lightened and my soul released from bondage.

Before I even began typing tonight, the Lord's Prayer came to my mind:

Our Father which art in heaven, Halowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen. (Matthew 6:9-13)

(I always hear the choir version of this in my head when I read it)

Burning into my head was the line, "forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors." I don't know how much God himself will hold our resentments against us, but I know we are poisoning ourselves by not letting go. As Sister Marriott put it above, "Your resentment diminishes your progress and damages your ability to have healthy relationships." Those relationships include family, friends, pretty much all people, and the most important - God. 

My holding onto anger, however justified it may be, weakens my soul. I cannot love my brother in the way the Lord has asked if I continue to hold his past against him. And I cannot grow spiritually if I have damned my spirit with hate. As I continue to let things of the past fester in my heart, I will further withdraw from God and lose the companionship of the Holy Spirit.

Dearest friends, family, and all others. I am truly sorry if my unwillingness to overlook and let go of perceived faults has led me to distance myself from you. You are all children of God and I know he loves you. I cannot give a priesthood blessing without the words "God loves you" coming out during the prayer. He loves you and in my deepest heart so do I. 

I will have to spend the rest of my life removing the guile I placed within me to see your beauty more clearly, but please know I am trying. I am weak and sinful, but I am trying. I will pray for you and in so doing beg the Lord to forgive me for not loving you more fully, more quickly. 

Poisoned Pedestals

I remember the first time an authority figure let me down and I recognized it. That experience cut me deeply and made me question a lot of things I'd understood. Different events of my past, beliefs I'd held forever, even my own self-image were all shaken permanently. It was at that time that I began learning one of life's hardest lessons - no one, and I mean no one, is perfect.

Now, as simple a lesson as that is, you'd think decades later I would know it well enough to apply it to my life. Since no one is perfect, and I'm included there, I must accept that we all have faults and that goodness doesn't depend on a measurement of our spiritual yin-yang balance, but on something deeper.

After dwelling on this for some weeks now, I've realized that we all place people or our idea of people on pedestals and look at them from down below. These sculpted, chiseled busts of who we think people are give us this strange sense of false comfort and ill-placed trust. Not that placing faith in others is wrong nor believing in the good of others. Rather, it is the erroneous construct that since "so-and-so" is up there on that pedestal, they are trustworthy and good. Sounds a bit like idol worshiping.

There are real dangers in allowing ourselves to build these pedestals and place people on them. In time, we will compare ourselves to our created images and realize we are short and that we are not worthy to be in such a lofty station as them. We will come to know that we will never fit in with our perfect population of statues and despair.

Moreover, we will begin looking down on others and see how even more unlike our creations they are than we. Because we cannot bring ourselves up to the status of our perfect, objectified creations, we will tear others down - for if they are even worse than us, perhaps we aren't so bad after all. If we truly knew what we were doing in our mind we would be horrified and disgusted with ourselves.

I try very hard not to tear down my colleagues and those I love. When I catch myself doing it, I am quick to dismiss the thought and remind myself of how the Lord loves them and they are amazing, faults and all. I used to be very good at not judging others much at all - though that became lessened as I grew older. But I have little strength in resisting the temptation to destroy myself.

Lately, I've realized that I've placed an image of myself on the same pedestal that I've been removing my parents, leaders, and friends from. While I have slowly grown to accept their flaws and see the good in them I refuse to ignore my own mistakes and focus on them. Each time I fall short of completing an assignment or I fail to foresee a problem, I feel as though I have failed beyond hope. I have to be the perfect image of myself that I placed on the stand or I am not good enough.

You see, like many others, I've constructed a pedestal and put a bust on there. For some it is their leaders, for others like me, themselves, and still others it is some idea or concept in their life. No matter what we place on that exalted place, if it isn't the Lord himself, we are only poisoning ourselves with blind faith, misguided aspirations, or love of mammon and things. Wanting to be better and perfect ourselves is good - doing it in a way that ignores the truth of how each of us is flawed will only lead to further heartache and sorrow.

I have read several biographies of LDS church presidents and grown to love how these imperfect men did their best in spite of their weaknesses (and sometimes because of them) and ended up making the world a better place. It is marvelous to me to know how they struggled with my afflictions, my temptations, my worries, and still performed so many labors of love in this life. I have been gaining a truer testimony of this work since beginning to understand what many of the Lord's anointed have stated - that they are "mortal and subject to human imperfection" but "While neither perfect nor infallible, these good men and women have been perfectly dedicated to leading the work of the Lord forward as He has directed." (Elder Ballard, October 2015 General Conference).

Over time I hope I will be able to remove the pristine statue of myself that I placed on high and be able to just find joy in my own progression and seeing the hand of the Lord in my life. That I will rejoice in all the good God does in my life. That I will never again place another soul on a pedestal nor compare another to someone I've placed there. That I will come to understand how the words "Exaltation is our goal; discipleship is our journey," (Pres. Utchdorf, October 2015 General Conference) really tell us to aim high, desire to be better, but continue putting one foot in front of the other now and with joy.

And that I will only choose as a perfect role model for myself, Jesus Christ - the one exception to the rule "no one is perfect."

Remembering

I don't know for sure why I am writing this, but when the idea first struck me I nearly burst into tears and knew it had to be done.

This is about my transcripts from college. I needed to verify a date for some paperwork and felt that my class schedule at that time would tell the tale. I didn't know how many tales it would tell.

Throughout public school, my parents "rode" on me about straight A's - anything less was unacceptable and showed I wasn't working hard*. I ended with a 3.50 GPA, but that was a bit of a failure and a success on my part - I graduated, but my grades were never perfect.

I made it to college and at the university started out with a 3.59 the first quarter. That was higher than my high school GPA and noteworthy, but it was the highest I'd ever get for a "full load" of classes.

As I read through the grades on my transcript today, I became misty eyed looking at some of the lower marks. I knew the pain those came from - the heartache that existed every day as I went to class. Each one telling a story of who I was at the time and the struggle each day was**. Here's what I saw in them:

I saw the string of W's (withdraws) from the semester my son was born and went to the hospital for a week because of low oxygen levels. I remember the uncertainty as I went to there to check on him each day, hoping they'd find the problem (they never did). It caused my faith, my self-esteem, my everything to be called into question and I quit that term to regroup

I saw the E, D, D-, and B- from my next semester (my "triumphant" return). I remember the power I gained during it as I started to learn to love myself since God did. My grades didn't do well, but I was becoming stronger. Also, I saw the B- was in a psychology math class and knew that math was always a good call for me.

I saw my next batch, much better, but the E (BYU uses E's instead of F's) from "Marriage Enhancement" ended my eligibility for aid and I couldn't pay for my own tuition. The course title also tells how terrible I was as a husband at the time. It was a rough time for me (our next child was approaching) and I wish I could hug my back-then-self and whisper the words of Elder Jeffrey R. Holland in my ear, "Don't you quit. You keep walking. You keep trying. There is help and happiness ahead," (see video).

I saw the year of uncertainty. I worked at a warehouse now and thought perhaps it would be my life since school had kicked me out. An older worker (in his 50's) was still there and would not get to retire because he hadn't been with the company long enough. I felt dumb (my sister was finishing college, my other sister in school still, my parents and grandparents graduates) and destined to live a life of grunt work and little rest.

I saw when I discovered a way back. The transcript shows a single A- for an online course. That summer, I took Calculus 1 for the third time (twice in high school) and with some divine intervention was reinstated with good enough standing to have aid again. It was nice to take a course I knew I could pass and didn't even need to be there the whole time.

I looked at the grades and remembered.

I remember crying to myself because I couldn't, wouldn't share my feelings with my wife. I remember the pain of feeling like a failure to my parents, my spouse, my children. I remember the thought that I was not smart and not capable. I remember feeling cursed by God and man. I remember darkness in my chest and mind.

I wept with my past self and the struggles I went through. I kept thinking of the hurt I experienced and I sorrowed for my unspoken pains and my therefore unmet needs.

I guess part of this post was to finally acknowledge my own personal hell from the last several years. College was not a series of frat parties, hundreds of dates, and excitement of finding out who my significant other was. I got married before even starting school. School for me was getting through to support my ever-growing family. It was to make sure I was preparing for the future and it was HARD. Wow was it hard!



Then I remembered the light gradually illuminating the way.



Slowly God showed me who I was, what I was capable of, and how to leave my current situation. He never made it easier. In fact, IT GOT HARDER as time went on. But He inspired me and told my heart things to help me move through the pain and finish what I started. This is what I see in the grades now:

I see my soul being instructed and uplifted by deity. I see the hand of God taking me into the depths of my personal hell to then lift me out and help me find higher ground. I see my grades go up as I found courage to leave my high paying job*** and focus more on school. I see him instructing me on balance as I am forced to give up my Spanish courses to finish college.

I see Him blessing me and my wife with just enough to survive on so that we would learn to rely on him more. I see the courage of my wife to accept her husband's choice to leave the third major promising a $60,000+ salary to take on the role of high school teacher. I see the hand of the Lord in choosing caring instructors to help me when needed by both giving extended due dates and advice.

I see the inspiration in my student teaching position and the knowledge of loving my students given me by the teacher. I see the LOVE that God has for me and wants me to share with my students. I see a father in heaven who cares for me more than I know.

Then, I see the promised blessing as the last grade is recorded (Pass) and the transcript ends. I see the awarded degree and know that it was ONLY through God that I succeeded and he wanted me to have that blessed knowledge forever.

Life is still not easy. With five children (latest born a few weeks ago), lots of debt from school, selling our old home because we moved out of town, my first year of teaching****, and the pressures of everyday life, how could it be easy? I don't think it was meant to be.

We learn from pain and from struggle. The greatest lesson ever learned was by our Savior who went through all pain and suffering to know each of us. Because He went through Gethsemane and Golgotha, we have a friend and companion for any trial.

I know He still watches over my family and myself. I witness his miracles all the time in my life and if I just take a moment to see and remember his good works, I will be able to smile and trust Him because He has loved me and watched over me already.

J. Justin Draper

FOOTNOTES:

*Disclaimer - that is a mixed bag of fun. I didn't work very hard in high school and my grades went downhill (though not below b's for the most part). My parents meant well and I know I wasn't doing my "best", but the pressure and the lack of approval hurt more than helped on some things. So yes, they were accurate, but no they didn't tell the whole story.

**For those who don't know, I suffered through some serious problems in college psychologically and physically. I had to battle depression from multiple sources while fighting food allergies and blood sugar issues (all were discovered during college). It took a serious toll on my relationship with my wife and my ability to function - both at home and in the classroom. Though I always had strength to work.

***I was earning ~ $32,000 a year. For a college student that is fantastic. I now earn that with a B.S. in Math Education. But at least I don't carry 100's of pounds of steel around all day anymore

****In your first year you must learn to plan lessons, appropriately make and administer tests, teach more than a year's material in less time than a school year (assemblies, events, and such), get the students state tested on stuff you may or may not have covered in time, discipline students (which is more a routine and love thing), and many more. Worst of all, you still have to prove you are worthy of being a teacher by filling out paperwork for your "level 2" licensure, recertification, and more. Oh, and no matter how good of a program you come from, the college experience doesn't come close to preparing you for it.