Stake Conference Talk

The following is a talk I gave in the November 2013 Stake Conference of the Idaho Falls Stake. I am lucky that the Lord allowed the words I said to stick with me long enough to write it all down. Never have I given a talk over the pulpit that was written down more than a few bullet points, and this was no exception, so I'm incredibly thankful I can share it, because it was all the spirit speaking.

 I am happy to be here.

And I’m not just saying that because it’s in big bold letters on my paper. I am truly happy to be here. And this surprises me because I was so anxious about this. I am not a good communicator and that worried me. In fact, last night, I turned to my mom and I told her that I was like Moses without Aaron. I’m speechless and I have no personal translators.

Two Sundays ago, I was a very stressed out lady.

I had people coming at me left and right asking me to do things: babysit, sit in on missionary discussions, spend time with this someone, reach out to someone else, talk to someone about the steps to becoming a missionary, sing in the stake choir, attend this, go to that, volunteer here, help this person, be this person’s example… On top of it all, I am a team teacher for the adult gospel principle’s class, and I. WAS. LATE! To my own lesson.

And oh was I grateful to be asked to help, and oh was I thankful that people were giving me the opportunities I always pray for, but there is one term to describe me at that moment when the stake president sat down in the pew ahead of me. That word would be FRAZZLED. I was completely frazzled.

First of all, I am a very real person. 

And I never understood what people meant when they said that, but I do now. I am as tangible, as human, and as imperfect as anyone else. I was to the point of throwing my hands up and saying, “President Hammond, thank you, but I am sorry. I know what you are going to ask of me and I surely cannot do that and stay mentally sane at the same time.” I even paused after he asked me to speak, and I was about to say exactly that. And worst of all, I was about to give up my dream of being a missionary because I thought I was too weak, too immature, too overwhelmed, and too far from Christ. How could I teach others to be strong and come unto Him, when I was too weak to do what He asked of me?

And just then, in that confused, misguided thought when I was about to say no with a capital N-O…

My mouth betrayed me. For some reason, my body was still listening to God even when my conscience was down for the count. I said yes when parts of me were utterly falling apart.

But as I said yes, two scriptures came to mind.

1 Nephi 3:7

John 16: 32-33

It was like He was saying, “Be of good comfort, Josie, I've got your back.”

And I’m so glad He does, because I get to speak on one of my favorite topics: How choices I made have affected my life and allow me to serve a mission.

So, I am Sister Johanna Mae Palmer of the 24^th ward of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and I have been called to serve as a missionary of the Lord. I will serve a devoted 18 months to that one and only God, who has shaped me into the woman I am right now.

To be honest, I thought it would be easy to write this talk—I mean, it is about my life. But then I realized that I have made a lot of choices, and I only have 7 to 9 minutes up here.

I found a story that I just love. I want to share it with you today.

It was a chilly November morning. A row of rambunctious five year olds squirmed in their chairs as two young missionaries taught the lesson that day. At the end of the row sat a quiet little girl. She sat with her hands clasped in her lap and her feet wrapped tightly around her chair. Her dress was wrinkled; strands of her hair obscured her tiny face; her head was tilted forward. As they struggled to keep these wild little children entertained, the missionaries wondered if she was even listening or if she was in another world altogether.

At the conclusion of the lesson, each missionary bore his testimony. As the senior companion ended his testimony with his gratitude for missionary work, the little girl sat up straight. For the first time, the missionaries saw her little eyes peering up at them in earnest. After a closing prayer, all the children filed out of the classroom into primary—all, except for that strange little girl. She walked right up to the senior companion as he erased the chalkboard, and tugged on his pant leg.

“Jesus was like a missionary! I want to be a missionary!” she exclaimed. The missionaries stood astounded as she babbled about how she wanted to spread the gospel. “It’s my dream,” she ended and walked off without so much as a response.

The next day, the little girl told her friends that she wanted to be a missionary when she grew up. One little boy laughed at her, “Only boys can be missionaries, Beetle. You’re a girl.”

Crestfallen, the little girl went home. She told no one else about her dream, for it had been crushed and she wanted nothing more than to forget about it. That week went on, and with each day, so did her dejection. On Sunday, that little girl refused to sing “I Want to Be a Missionary Now.” She sat like a rag doll in sacrament, she squirmed in her chair with the other kids, and she threw a fit about wanting to go home. Five words had broken this little girl’s heart.

            That week, she visited her grandmother’s house, where her grandmother asked her what was the matter with her. After relaying the whole story and bursting into tears, her grandmother assured her that she could, indeed, be a missionary.

“How do you know, Grandma?” the little girl sniffed.

“I know because, I went on a mission when I was 21. But, you don’t have to wait until you’re 21 and a paper calls you to be a missionary for you to start. You should start now,” her grandmother smiled.

Together, the two made “Future Missionary” tags and wrote down ways to be a missionary every day. From that day on, the little girl collected what she thought would help on her mission. She invited friends to come to church with her. Every lesson, she participated, and every song, she sang with gusto. She tried to make good decisions, and she strove to be Christ like. In the front of her mind, she kept that thought: “I want to be a missionary now.”

That strange, determined little girl—who knew at such a young age exactly who and what she wanted to be—was me. And I have since then lost the paper that held that list, but it only had one thing on it. That one thing is ingrained into my brain and has affected the choices I have made all through my life:

Do what Jesus would do. I did what Jesus would do in my place:

When I sinned, I repented.

When I fell, I helped someone else up.

When I was stressed, I prayed.

When I wanted to shout, I listened.

When I knew something was wrong, I weighed my options and decided against it.  And when I didn't choose right, I repented again, no matter how hard it was.

When I began to forget, I put a Jesus pin on my backpack.

When I wanted to just be done and quit, I read my scriptures.

But when the pin wasn't enough, I put up pictures of the temple all over in my room.

When I got down on myself and forgot the atonement, I put a note on the mirror reminding me that I am one of “God’s little princesses.”

And when I thought negative thoughts, I made a journal and filled it with positive things.

I strove then, and I will always strive to do what Jesus would do. That’s what got me here; that’s what allows me to serve a mission.

So decide now, right now, that you want to be a missionary; that you want to serve the Lord, bring others unto Christ, wear His name with pride, and be like Him. Decide that now, and choose to always do what Jesus would do and I know that He will help you. I know that it will bless you and make you happy.

I know the Lord loves us and has sent us here to live, learn, and grow. I know that this is the true church, and I love the gospel and the spirit it brings into my life. I love the happiness it creates; I love the smiles on each and every person who faithfully follows the words and counsels of the prophets. I do not always understand everything, but I know with all my heart that this is something everyone needs in their lives. Again, I know missionary work is vital to the spreading of the gospel, and I promise it will bring great blessings unto all those who do.

This I say, in the name of Jesus Christ.

Amen.

 

I Wonder What We Put Him Through

I often wonder what it must be like to be God.

Imagine putting on a pot of water. It is on high heat and it starts to boil over, but you cannot get to it. You try, you feel like you are running, but you never get any closer.Then, you remember you spilled oil all over the old stove the night before, and it had run down into the hot plates. You had meant to clean it up, but in the midst of everything, you had been forced to direct someone else to do it. Now all you can do is watch as their failure to follow instruction mixes with the hot element and boiling water. The old gas stove catches aflame.

Faster. You run, desperately reaching out.

The smoke detector beeps wildly and in runs your loved ones. They turn to you, calling out for help, calling for guidance, begging you to help them. They cannot hear your words over the frantic wailing each person emits, and your answers go unnoticed. Tears stream down their faces. Now theirs match yours.You're stuck. You cannot move. All you can do now is watch them endure it.

Then, the stove explodes.

As the ashes settle, you realize the trial is over. They are gone. You had done everything you could have to prevent the tragic outcome, but someone had not listened. And so, many suffered.


This must be what it is like to be God.

He directs. He warns. He advises. He sends messengers and signs. And yet we don't always listen and obey. In the end, when we do not heed His councils, something explodes.

I never want to put God through that. Not ever.

He Always Listens

October 2012

"Today I am pleased to announce that able, worthy young women who have the desire to serve may be recommended for missionary service beginning at age 19, instead of age 21."

~Thomas S. Monson~

In August of 2012,
I began my senior year of high school. I dreaded the school year and looked forward to the future of college and independence. Truthfully, I felt like I was stuck in slow motion, but I realized later that it was because I wasn't listening or preparing for the right events.

As September came to a close, I found myself really struggling to fill out and complete college applications. It was frustrating, especially because I was behind the curve at my school when it came to applying. It seemed that no one wanted me to go to college. My printer spazzed out every time I tried to print out an application, my computer lost the beginning of a college essay, some of my friends began arguing that my choices in colleges were sub par, my Councillors forgot about an appointment I had set up and failed to reschedule with me, and I had no support from anyone.

I spent many a night on my knees in prayer;
I begged and fasted for an answer as to why nothing was going right for me. As time and time again, my prayers were left unanswered, I grew more distressed. For me, it was a rarity to even look toward my future, let alone make the steps to prepare for it, so why wasn't the Lord helping me with it?

My faith began to slip away, and I ignored the spirit and shook off my testimony. I would repeatedly ask myself what was so wrong with me that God had dismissed himself from my life. One day, I sat down to the computer. Attempt number thirteen to write the darn college essay. 3 hours past by and I had a mere sentence.

What's wrong with you? What's wrong with you? What's wrong with you?
The words rang in my head. I slammed my hands down on the keyboard and deleted the document. At that point, I had decided that I was done: no going to college, no aspiring for greatness, no more trying, no more doing, just no more. I was going to ride the wave, let good things happen to me, and let my life live itself.

Great plan? Maybe, but that didn't happen, because that was when I changed the way I prayed. I knelt down right there in front of the computer, and instead of saying "God, tell me," I began to say, "God, lead me."

The first weekend in October was General Conference.
I was lying in my bed that Saturday morning listening to the first session. President Thomas S. Monson took his place at the pulpit to welcome everyone to the 182nd Semiannual General Conference of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Remember that number because that General Conference was the one that changed the world again, for the better.

I was only listening halfheartedly--still upset from the lack of answers despite my prayers--when I heard the most bizarre thing:

For some time the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles have allowed young men from certain countries to serve at the age of 18 when they are worthy, able, have graduated from high school, and have expressed a sincere desire to serve.

WAIT! WHAT?! Go on...

This has been a country-specific policy and has allowed thousands of young men to serve honorable missions and also fulfill required military obligations and educational opportunities.

Our experience with these 18-year-old missionaries has been positive. Their mission presidents report that they are obedient, faithful, mature, and serve just as competently as do the older missionaries who serve in the same missions. Their faithfulness, obedience, and maturity have caused us to desire the same option of earlier missionary service for all young men, regardless of the country from which they come.

After hearing this, I admit I was a little bitter. I've been wanting to serve a mission for a long long time, but women cannot serve missions before they're 21, and I have a few years.

I am pleased to announce that effective immediately all worthy and able young men who have graduated from high school or its equivalent, regardless of where they live, will have the option of being recommended for missionary service beginning at the age of 18, instead of age 19. I am not suggesting that all young men will—or should—serve at this earlier age. Rather, based on individual circumstances as well as upon a determination by priesthood leaders, this option is now available.

So I sat in my bed sulking and being negative and not caring, because I was being selfish. Sure, I was excited for the young men I knew that would now have the opportunity to go at the end of the school year, but I was still really down. The next part made me kneel once more in prayer.

Because my prayers were finally answered.

As we have prayerfully pondered the age at which young men may begin their missionary service, we have also given consideration to the age at which a young woman might serve. Today I am pleased to announce that able, worthy young women who have the desire to serve may be recommended for missionary service beginning at age 19, instead of age 21.

There it was. The reason why nothing went the way I'd wanted it to was because I was going on a mission soon and I had been too stubborn to see that God intended something else for me. So this time, when I knelt in prayer, I thanked God, and I apologized for my bad attitude.

People always talk about how our prayers will not always be answered right away, or in the way we want them to, or even in the way we expect them to. It didn't hit me how true that really is until I had that struggle. Now I know for certain that God will never abandon me and He's always listening, even when I don't think He is. I know He's here for us, I know He knows us, and I know He loves us.

In the name of Jesus Christ,
Amen.