Tuesday, January 23, 2018

Behold, Thou Art Little.

I've always loved the scripture where Lehi tells his son, Joseph, "Behold thou art little; wherefore hearken unto the words of thy brother." It's tender—Lehi knows his son is still growing, still learning and will need help.

I relish feeling grown-up, like I've got everything figured out. But I had several "thou art little" moments in a matter of hours. And let me tell you, I felt extremely little, and those moments didn't feel tender.

For over 6 months, I've been preparing for a new masters program with two schools in the running. On a Thursday morning, I opened my email and read the first rejection letter I had ever received in my life. I wasn't accepted to BYU's MFT program. I knew my chances were slim, but I at least thought that I would make it through the preliminary round. My initial shock cascaded into a wave of panic—I can't even make it through the first round—what if Idaho State rejects me, too?

I would like to say that I handled the news like a champ. I didn't. I cried until my face looked like it had been stung by a thousand bees. I wanted to drink away my sorrows at a bar, but I had to settle with drinking about a gallon of hot chocolate at Starbucks (thank you, free refills). And I felt little.

That night, I crawled into the covers of my bed, eager for some much needed rest. And then my phone buzzed with a notification that said, "Your Delta flight to Atlanta is in 2 hours."
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I had been planning a trip to Georgia to visit my sister and her family. I couldn't wait to see my nephews. But my flight was at 12:55am, and I stupidly mixed up the dates, thinking that my flight was the next day. I called a Delta representative, but she said there was nothing she could do. I wasn't surprised, but it was worth a try. Long story short, I didn't go to Georgia, I lost the money I spent on my tickets, my sister was sad, and I felt even littler. I made an atom feel jealous. 

That day was hell. But I still had people that helped me. Another mini crisis—my application for ISU was due on MLK day, and I had a recommendation fall through last minute. I asked my bishop to write me a last minute letter because I used to work in his department, and he saved the day.

My dad was another rescuer. After both crises, I called him in tears and felt like a child, the whiney kind. He was loving, of course, and he told me that everything would be okay. And he was right. I felt a little better about things, and he helped me research back-up schools, so I could send new applications. We went to see the Utah Symphony perform Stravinsky's The Firebird (one of my favorite pieces), and it was the most wonderful thing I've heard in my life. 

In lieu of going to Georgia, I went to Logan with Dad because he had a meeting at Utah State. It's a pretty town, and I enjoyed spending time with him and eating pancakes in the emptiest, creepiest Denny's known to mankind. When were in the car, I told him that I felt sheepish for handling my problems so poorly. But he said that I didn't handle them poorly and that I would have reacted much differently if I experienced these things three years ago when I was already in the pits. And from that perspective, I think he's right. 

I'm glad that I have friends and family who love and help me. They made my week tolerable. I'm glad that my dad was there for me, and I know my mom would have been too if she had been home. When I emailed Brigham and told him about what was going on, he sent me one of his favorite talks by Elder Holland, "Good Things to Come." And I felt so proud of him. He also said that being a grown-up is overrated. So... behold, I am little. I guess that's not half bad. 

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