This last year has been truly an amazing one for me. I just completed my first year at BYU-Idaho through the Pathway Program, and it is truly an inspired program. In September, I will be starting my second year at BYU-Idaho doing online courses as I pursue a Bachelor of Science in Communications with an Emphasis in News and Journalism and a Minor in English. As one of my faithful readers, you already know how deep my love for words go, but as I stated once before in a previous post, it wasn't until recently when I actually discovered this for myself. This post contains the last essay I had to write for my English class I took as part of the BYU-Idaho Pathway Program. There is a difference between this post and the actual essay I turned in. The difference is I went back and edited the essay after the class was over because I was not satisfied with the essay I had turned in. I had turned in an eight page essay (Yes, I did write EIGHT pages). This essay (if you could actually call it an essay since it was EIGHT pages, which would make it more like a short story) is roughly ELEVEN pages long. Now before you decided to forgo reading it, the essay, or rather short story, is double spaced, so it's more like five and a half pages. Still, if you do decide to read this essay (because you are one of my faithful readers) you will find something very different from my other posts. This essay deals with one of the most important decisions several people in my life, including myself, have ever made. It deals with the most prominent defining moment in my life, where I can trace every decision I have ever made since this one specific moment, back to this one moment in time. If you do decide to read this essay, you will find out exactly what it is I am talking about. So please forget about it being as long as it is, and read on!
ENJOY!
As Always,
Amanda
Amanda Best
Professor
Tara Bowen
English 106
~ 13
5 April
2013
A Clean Soul and Dirty Water
As I made my way into the room where
the baptismal font was located, I thought about the conversation I had with my
friend the night before. During the course of our conversation, we talked about
many different things until finally the conversation turned towards her
baptism. I had told her about many of the memories I have from my own baptism.
I told her about the importance and attention to detail was placed on the
exactness of baptism. I related to her the importance complete immersion and
how the baptism would have to be repeated if even a small section of hair
happened to “float” on the top of the water. I explained
how even the accuracy on the wording for the baptismal prayer was such an
important part of baptism. I told her about how my dad baptized me twice
because he mixed up the wording on the baptismal prayer. I then told her how
proud of her I was by her decision to follow our Savior’s example. The next afternoon, as I
watched her come out of the water, a newly baptized member of the Church of
Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I could see the joy on her face. After her
baptism, I made my way back into the chapel. As I was sitting in the chapel
with the hymnal opened, ready to sing “How Great
Thou Art,” I began to
think about my own baptism 17 years ago, when I was eight years old. The
memories leading up to my baptism came flooding back to me and I again felt the
same joy I saw on my friend’s face just
minutes ago.
It was unusually warm for the first
day of December. My mom had been hard at work for weeks making the dress I
would wear for my baptism tomorrow afternoon. Every day I would try on my dress
to ensure a proper fit. I did not want to go inside after I got home from
school since I knew there were straight pins waiting to stab me
unintentionally. I would scream every time I felt the pins sticking me. I
wanted to stay outside and play, but when I got off the school bus, I saw my
mom waiting for me on the other side of the street. My heart sank and I knew
there was no way to escape the pins waiting to poke me. As we walked down the
street to our house, I told my mom about the things I learned at school during
day.
When we reached our front yard, I turned to my mom and
asked, “Mom, can I
please, please, pleeeeease play outside in the dirt for a little while before I
have to try on my dress again?”
“Mandy, I
finished your dress while you were at school today,” my mom replied.
“Then why
did were you waiting for me at the bus stop,” I asked.
“Grandma Dee
and Nana are waiting for you in the living room,” my mom
said.
Squealing as I ran through the screen door and into their
waiting arms, “GRAMME!
NANA! What are you doing here?”
“Mandy, I
have something for you,” my
great-grandma Nana replied, “I’ve been saving it since the day after
I first held you as a baby.”
“Really!
What is it,” I asked as
Nana hand me a small package wrapped in pink paper.
“Well,” Nana said, “you’ll have to
open it to find out won’t you.”
“Now,” I asked, “you want me to open it now?”
When I saw Nana nod her head, without thinking twice about
trying to keep the house clean, I ripped the paper off the package, throwing pieces of it in every possible direction in the process. In my hands I held a
small gold locket on a chain with the words “I am a
Child of God” written in
the middle of it.
“Nana,” I cried, “it’s
beautiful, but my birthday was almost a month ago.”
“I know,” Nana replied, “but that isn’t for you birthday. It’s for you baptism.”
“Thank you
Nana, I love it,” I said as
I wrapped my hands around Nana’s neck and
gave her a big hug.
After I asked Nana to help me with putting the necklace on,
I sat and talked with both Nana and my Gramme. They asked me if I was excited
for my baptism tomorrow. I told them I was not only excited, but nervous too.
They asked me why I was nervous. I told them I did not want to end up getting
water in my nose when I went under the water. They both smiled and told me they
had felt the same way before their baptisms.
Later before I went to bed, my mom helped me take off my
necklace. She told me it would be with my dress hanging in her sewing room. I
tried to go to sleep, but I was so wound up I had a hard time keeping my eyes
closed. I felt as if I was waiting to open presents on Christmas morning.
Reading 9:38pm from the clock on my nightstand, I gave up trying to go to sleep
and went downstairs to ask my mom to read to me.
“Mom,” I said, “I know you still have a lot of things
to do so the house is ready for tomorrow, but I can’t sleep. Will you read to me?”
“I’m sorry Mandy, but I can’t,” my mom
answered, “but I’m sure that your dad would love to
read to you.”
Walking over to my dad, I asked, “Dad, I can’t sleep. Will you read to me?”
“Of course I
will,” my dad responded, “but I have something much better than
a book.”
As my dad and I walked back upstairs, I wondered what my
dad was going to “read” to me. After my dad tucked me into
bed, he proceeded to tell me the story of his introduction to the Gospel and
his baptism. The next thing I remember was waking up the next morning and
reading 7:20am from my bedside clock. Sitting up in bed, I stretched, yawned,
and then flopped back into my pillows before I realized it was Saturday.
Shooting out of bed faster than a rocket, I ran through my parents’ open bedroom door and jumped on top
of the bed where they were both still asleep.
“MOM, WAKE
UP! DAD, WAKE UP!” I cried, “I’M GETTING
BAPTIZED TODAY!”
“We know,” came my dad’s reply, “now go back to bed for another hour
or two.”
“But there’s no way I’ll be able to go back to sleep now,” I exclaimed.
“Mike,” my mom said, “she has a point, and we still have so
much that we still need to do before we leave this afternoon.”
“Oh,
alright,” my dad
said with a small amount of grumpiness in his voice.
My parents went downstairs to make breakfast, but told me
to stay in my room and wait for them to call the rest of our family downstairs.
Before long, the smell of The Best Family Breakfast Scramble was wafting up the
stairs, and I could hear my siblings making noise in their rooms. Then I heard
my mom yell for us to come down for breakfast. Running down the stairs three at
a time, I saw breakfast scramble, pancakes, bacon, and orange juice all on the
dining room table, waiting for someone to eat all of it. Despite being
extremely hungry, my excitement won me over and I ate very little, but I did
drink an entire carton of orange juice by myself.
“Mandy,” my sister Chrissy said, “Are you excited?”
“YES,” I squeaked, “very excited!”
“Who do you
think is going to come,” my brother
Robby asked.
“Everyone that
I invited,” I said.
“Who did you
invite,” my sister
Michelle asked.
“Well, let
me think,” I
answered, “I invited
you, Robby, Chrissy, Mom, and Dad. Then I invited Gramme, Nana, Aunt Dana, and
Aunt Donna and Uncle Bob. I invited my best friend, Vince Campbell and his
family. I invited Bishop Hadfield, Sister Stokes, Elder Christensen, Elder
Softley, President Beck, and Leslie and Gary Chasteen. OH! And I invited Steve,
Carol, Sarah, and Grandpa Bob.”
“Mandy,” said my dad, “you know Grandpa Bob probably won’t be there since he just got out of
the hospital a few days ago.”
“I know Dad,” I replied, “but you told me to send him an
invitation anyways. Carol said she and Sarah were coming, and Steve was going
to try to make it too. I figured since there was a chance that all three of
them would be there, there was also a chance that maybe Grandpa will be there
too.”
“Well,” my dad said, “don’t get your
hopes up. You want Grandpa to get better. You don’t want him
to do something that might make him get sick again, do you?”
“You know I
don't, Dad,” I said, “why would you think that I would want
Grandpa to get sick again?”
“I just want
to make sure that you understand that he most likely won’t be there,” my dad answered.
After my dad said this, I excused myself from the table,
and began to walk away, feeling sad and disappointed. I wanted my grandpa to be
there, but I really did not want him to do anything if there was any chance he
might get sick again. As I was leaving, I heard my mom call my name.
“Amanda,” my mom said, “I need you to pick up anything you
see on the floor that needs to be picked up. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes Mom,” I said, “I can do that.”
“Thank you,” my mom replied.
My family spent the next several hours vacuuming floors, cleaning
windows, washing dishes, dusting furniture, and other chores so the house would
be ready later in the evening when my friends and family would come over after
my baptism for dinner and dessert. After working very hard, I quietly slipped
into the backyard to play with my family’s two
Golden Retrievers, not realizing the ground was muddy since my dad had just
watered the grass. Finding a tennis ball, I walked off the patio and onto the grass
where my feet immediately sank into the mud. After I had wiggled my toes in the
mud for a few seconds, I began to throw the ball around the backyard for my
dogs. After throwing the ball a few times, I began to tease my dogs by
pretending to throw the ball for a few minutes until I started throwing the
ball again. I did this several more times, until just as I was about to throw
the ball, I slipped in the mud and landed on my butt. Immediately my dogs were
on top of me, trying to get the ball. I started to laugh and giggle as I rolled
in the mud. After a few minutes, I was covered from head to toe in mud. Then the
sliding glass door open, and I heard my mom call my name.
“Amanda,” my mom called, “are you out here?”
“I’m right here, Mom,” I said as I peeked up over the
wooden bench which hid me from my mom’s sight.
“AMANDA!
What on earth,” cried my
mom, “We’re almost
done cleaning the house and you’re out here
playing in the mud.”
“Sorry Mom,” I said, “but I just wanted to have some fun
before I got ready.”
“Well,” my mom replied, “it’s already
two o’clock. You need to go upstairs and
take your shower. We don’t need you
caked in mud and sweat when you get baptized today!”
“Okay Mom,” I answered, “I’m coming in
right now.”
“WAIT,” cried my mom, “STOP right there! Let me put down some
beach towels for you to walk on so you don’t track mud
all through the house on your way upstairs.”
After my mom made a path from the sliding glass door all
the way up to the upstairs bathroom, I came inside and took my shower. While I
took my shower, my family finished cleaning the house, my mom threw the muddy
beach towels into the washer, and then began to get ready to leave. By three o’clock in the afternoon, my entire
family had showered, gotten dressed, and were ready to leave. Before leaving my
dad said a prayer, during which he asked Heavenly Father to help my family get
to the Stake Center safely, as well as to help my grandpa feel better. After
the prayer, I said my own quiet, personal prayer, asking Heavenly Father to not
only help my grandpa to feel better, but to give him the strength to be able to
make it to my baptism. Then after piling all six of us into our Dodge Caravan,
we pulled out of our driveway and drove over to the Stake Center. On the drive
over to the Stake Center, I looked at the clock on the dashboard and read
3:15pm. My baptism was going to start in less than an hour. When we got to the
Stake Center, my mom handed me a bag and told me to go change into my dress. In
the bag my mom had carefully folded my dress, a pair of white socks, and the
necklace Nana had given to me the day before. After I put my dress on, I looked
at myself in the mirror. After I made sure my dress was on correctly, I looked
back into the mirror at my pure white dress. I had not realized just how pretty
it truly was and how long it must have taken my mom to make. Suddenly I felt
guilty for complaining about having to try it on after school every day. My
dress had both scalloped and ruffled laces with a string of pearl beading sewn
onto the hem of the neckline. The bottom hem of the dress was mid-calf in
length. The sleeves were short ending in the middle of my upper arm. The bodice
had white cotton fabric with lace sewn on top of it. As I twirled around and
around in my dress, I felt happier than I had ever felt in my life, and I
thought there would never be anything in the world to make me even happier than
I already was. After I stopped twirling, my mom walked over to me, brushed my
bangs forward, and then used white bobby pins to pull my hair back. My mom then
helped me put on my new necklace and we then went outside so I could get
pictures with everyone in my family.
At four in the afternoon, the baptism started. Before it
was my turn to have my dad baptize me, I had to wait for the two other boys who
were before me. When it was time for my baptism, my friends and family walked
into the Relief Society room where the baptismal font was located. Just as I
sat down and waited for everyone to make their way into the room, I saw Carol
pushing my Grandpa Bob into the room in a wheelchair. I turned to tell my dad
Grandpa had made it, but my dad had already seen Grandpa come in. My dad’s facial expression was one of being both
pleasantly shocked and truly happy. Leaning over to my dad, I told him I had
asked Heavenly Father to give Grandpa the strength he needed so he could come.
My dad hugged me and said he had done the same thing. When the time came for my
dad to perform my baptism, I walked down the steps and into the water. My dad
told me the water would be warm, but it was cold, as if someone had dumped a
bucket of ice into it only minutes before. After my dad said the prayer, he
immersed me in the water and baptized me. Before I had a chance to get out of
the cold water, I heard my Uncle Bob and Gary Chasteen tell my dad he would
have to baptize me again because he said the prayer incorrectly. I could feel
my irritation rising as my knees because to quiver from the cold water. Then
after my dad said the prayer for the second time, he immersed me in the water
and baptized me properly for the first time.
After I made my way up the ceramic tile steps, I went into
the bathroom and quickly changed into my dry clothes I wore to the church
building. After I finished changing, I made my way back into the chapel. After
a talk on the Holy Ghost, it was time for my confirmation. My dad, along with
the help of my Uncle Bob, Bishop Hadfield, Elder Softley, Elder Christensen,
President Beck, and Gary Chasteen, confirmed me a member of the Church of Jesus
Christ of Latter-day Saints and I received the Gift of the Holy Ghost. One of
the many things my dad told me as he confirmed me was I was the peacemaker in
our family. After he said Amen, I stood up and I hugged everyone who had
assisted my dad with my confirmation, including the missionaries. I hugged my
dad, my Uncle Bob, and Gary Chasteen the longest. Up until the previous night,
I had wondered why my dad wanted me to invite Gary. Gary had been there for my
siblings baptisms, as well as several other events my family had over the
years. I knew Gary was my dad’s best
friend, but I had never known just how deep their friendship really was. I no
longer wondered why because the story my dad told me the night before was not
only about his introduction to the Gospel and his baptism, it was about Gary
who was the reason why my dad was baptized, the reason why I had just been
baptized and confirmed a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day
Saints. It was a story about trials, true friendship, and true discipleship.
As I have looked back many times on my baptism day, I have
realized how the meaning and importance of my baptism has changed and grown
over time. One of my favorite stories my dad would tell me when he would have
the opportunity to tuck me into at night was of his friendship with Gary
Chasteen, which led to my dad’s baptism.
When my brother came home from his mission, I overheard my dad telling Gary how
all of the people who my brother taught on his mission, who converted to the
Gospel of Jesus Christ, had all converted because their friendship made it
possible. After I heard my dad say this to Gary, I told myself I would do
whatever it takes to become who the Lord needs me to be so He can use me to
help and bless the lives of others. As I sat in the chapel on March 23, I felt my
resolve again build inside me, to become who the Lord needs me to be. Each day
has led to a deeper understanding and realization of the importance of my
baptism. It is no longer something I just did when I was eight years old, but
it has become the most important thing to me. It has become the prominent
defining point in my life on my journey to become the person who He would have
me be.
