May 10, 2009
I Chose and my world was shaken,
So what?
The choice may have been mistaken...
The Choosing was not...
As I closed the bathroom door behind me, I realized I was in the midst of a time of endings and beginnings. Some I was prepared for and others I had not. Graduation and the end of my job on campus had been in sight for months, as was my impending departure for South America. My brother Darin was in a similar point in his life.
Just an hour ago, he'd made a decision that would affect the rest of his life. I sat outside the Stake President's office with my father and mother as well as my older brother's family. After several persistent months of doctor's visits, interviews, and paperwork, Darin was now prepared to submit his application to serve as an LDS missionary.
He would be the third of three boys and the third generation to go out clad in black nametag, shirt, and tie. It was a fate ascribed to us from the moment we were born. Five years ago, I'd been in his place as my brother had fifteen years ago and my father nearly forty years.
My mind turned to that moment-- to the utter unpreparedness of my nineteen year-old self preparing to commit two years of my life to a cause which I had my doubts, though it was still something in which I held faith, albeit incomplete.
"Do you feel prepared, GMB, to serve the Lord with all your heart, might, mind, and strength?" President Matheson asked me earnestly.
"I don't know how I could be feel more prepared," I answered. His smile consoled my doubt as much as it could. "Everything's been ideal for me. My parents are great. I've had great leaders and teachers. I'm not without doubt, though. I've fought with that for a long time."
"GMB, no one's faith is perfect. And sometimes that's all we have to act on, but know that you will be prepared. By committing yourself to the covenants you've made, you'll find all of the answers you need. They come in time, and I'll still admit I'm finding them all the time."
"That's something I really needed to hear," I blurted out from across the mahogany desk, my every gesture communicating the relief I felt.
"I know you're under a lot of pressure, but everything that makes me the man I am today stemmed from that decision to serve a mission and commit myself to the covenants we make in the temple."
My arms folded across my chest, I nodded-- confident in the decision I was making. Four years later, I sat with the same expression and the same confidence rushing through me.
The door opened and Darin emerged letting out a sigh as he stepped across the threshold into a new segment of his life. Soon he would be our missionary, the topic of conversation at every family gathering for two years in his absence, but in that moment we hugged, realizing that this was one of our final moments together for a long time.
Of course, I would be leaving for Chile and Darin soon thereafter to some unknown corner of the globe. However, what was less apparent in that moment was the other change on the horizon.
We drove home a happy family: my mother changing the Sunday station back to her weekday oldies, my father making a pun, Darin and I shaking our heads but still laughing in our "intellectual disgust." We then said our goodnights and went our separate ways.
Looking in the mirror as I contemplated the day and prepared for my shower, my future and my past collided. I looked at myself, at the person I'd become and I was satisfied. I had accomplished more than I would have ever anticipated: success in school and work as well as the most complete understanding of myself I'd ever achieved.
I'd gone as far as I could on that path, however. Despite all of the growth I owed to the teachings of the church, and the success I'd garnered as a result of serving a mission, I felt limited by the options I had. I'd lived the celibate life I'd been prescribed for a year and come to the conclusion (after deciding not to decide for so long) that it was not what was meant for me for an entire lifetime.
I stared at myself from across the counter loosening my tie, unbuttoning my shirt, and pulling away the layers one by one until I stood in my white undergarments. Five years ago, I put them on in an act of faith and obedience. Standing as a constant reminder of the standards I was to hold and the godly power supporting me in this journey, I stood in awe of the holy garments for a moment.
Then, I removed them for the last time and stood before myself completely vulnerable: a small gut veiled by chest hair, breasts slightly plump for a man, tiger-stripe stretch marks lining the sides of my body. My strengths became just as apparent as I scrutinized my frame: muscular legs shaped by years climbing up hills, arms colored olive by the rays of the sun, angular face framed by scruff.
For years, I'd been taught that this was God's greatest gift, that the human body stands as a vessel of godliness containing the power of creation. Somehow, the elevation of the body as a glorious construction of a godless universe also seemed compatible in that moment. So, I realized as I hunched over and stared into my own brilliantly hazel eyes a simple truth-- whether God existed or not, whether He created me or not, I had the potential within me to make a life of which I could be proud-- a life with which I could be satisfied and happy.
End of Series.
End, Book I.
