The LDS Missionary (CASanB Mission Edition)

This is another version of my poem "The LDS Missionary" which can be found in the second and third posts here on my blog. As with the other two versions of this poem, it is a ballad. For more detail on what a ballad actually is, the preface found in the “Extended Edition” of this poem will provide you with the explanation you need. What makes this version different from the other two is it was personalized for a very good friend of mine who served in my ward during the summer of 2012. For easier explaining from here, my friend's name is Richard. Anyways, I digress. Richard and I met in May 2012 during the last three months of his mission. In a previous post, I stated I had come across my poem "The LDS Missionary" during summer 2012, which led to me starting the process of tweaking it into what became the "Extended Edition" of this poem. While in the process of tweaking the original version of this poem, I found I had become stuck because several of the stanzas were not flowing together the right way. After I had spent several days tweaking my poem, but feeling I wasn’t getting anywhere, I decided to bring several copies of this poem in both its original form and the unfinished "Extended Edition" with me to church. I printed the copies on scratch paper with about three or four stanzas per page due heavy spacing between each of the lines in the poem. While I was waiting for church to start, I sat down and continued the process of tweaking the poem into its "Extended Edition" form. There was one stanza in particular gave me nothing but grief and frustration. I knew what part of the story I wanted this stanza to tell to the reader, but I could not think of a synonym for “ahead” which also rhymed with "numb" and would give the stanza the fluidity it needed so it might be able to flow freely into the next stanza. Looking up from my papers where I had written in several new lines and crossed out many others, I saw Richard standing in the doorway of the chapel. I immediately knew he could help me with my poem, and especially with the stanza, which I was having so much difficulty with reworking. I asked Richard if he could give me a synonym for “ahead” that rhymed with the word “numb”. Thinking I was looking for a synonym for “a head”, he replied with “cranium”. Laughing at his response, I told him I wasn’t looking for a synonym for “a head” but rather for "ahead" meaning something was “to come”. It was at this moment when a light bulb went off in my head. I knew I had just found the synonym I needed to make the stanzas flow together. Thanking him, I immediately crossed out “ahead” and wrote in “to come”. As small and insignificant as this might seem to some people, it was a big deal for me. I have a habit of writing things for my assignments in my various English courses, but I rarely find I am satisfied with the assignment I turn in. For Richard to have given me the help to find what I needed so my poem would flow freely from one stanza to the next, I knew I needed to thank him. Knowing this is what led to this personalized version of “The LDS Missionary” in its extended form where I added in a few details of Richard’s mission from the things he had told me. I didn’t post this version earlier because I knew I needed Richard’s permission to post it. About a week ago, I finally asked if he wouldn’t mind me posting it. Due to the personalized nature of this poem, I have also chosen to edit the dedication since it is not relevant to what led to my decision to personalize this poem for him. As with all of my written work, I would love any feedback my readers might have about this poem, but I do ask for positive and constructive feedback.

ENJOY!

As Always,

Amanda

"The LDS Missionary" (CASanBMission Edition)

--Amanda Best

To my friend, Richard, a missionary whose love for our Savior radiates from the way he treats everyone around him. Gardez la foi, mon ami, et bonne chance. Keep the Faith, my friend, and good luck.

You're called to be a missionary;

You're called to serve the Lord.

You're called to a place unknown;

You're called to preach his word.

Last Friday you finished your papers;

Then submitted them on Saturday.

Hoping your call would be waiting;

At home after church on Sunday.

Speeding home to check the mail;

You parked your car in the flower bed

But when the mailbox came up empty;

You just stood there scratching you head.

Twelve tortuous days of waiting later;

Your sister called to say that it came.

And when you opened your call;

You butchered your mission's name.

Reaching for your US atlas;

While turning fifty shades of red.

Embarrassed as you held your breath;

Hoping it wasn't a place you'd dread.

Finding your mission on the map;

You suddenly felt relieved.

Southern California;

How could you be so naïve?

Over the next few weeks;

You packed, stuffed, and crammed,

Your suitcases with so many items,

That the zippers kept getting jammed.

The night before you entered the MTC;

Your thoughts began to race.

Could you really do this;

Or would you fall flat on your face?

Pushing your doubt from your mind;

You said a humble, earnest prayer.

Asking that you receive the strength;

And the compassion to truly care.

Three weeks later you boarded a plane;

Not knowing what was to come.

Five hours and two planes later;

Your legs were completely numb.

In the terminal stood five men;

In white shirts, ties, and black tags.

Greeting you with warmth and love;

They helped you carry all your bags.

You arrived with brand new scriptures;

Shirts, ties, shoes, two suits, and a bike.

Tucked in the garage;

You left your dad's trike.

And just like when you were in Seminary;

You arose early every day.

Then before you went to bed each night;

You knelt beside your bed to pray.

As the days turned into weeks;

You brought hope to those in need.

And showed care and concern;

By helping others to succeed.

On P-days you’d write home;

Asking for pictures and perhaps a letter;

But packages with peanut butter

Were a hundred million times better.

As the weeks turned into months;

You continued to press on.

A valiant soldier in “God’s Army;”

Brave, faithful, true, bold, forever strong.

Tending to the Savior's Vineyard;

Pruning, watering, and removing weeds.

As the watchman on the tower;

Protecting, nurturing faith's tiny seeds

Soon without you realizing it;

One full year had come to pass.

And you heard what all the others had said;

That year number two goes by way too fast.

As time continued to go by;

You cherished each memory you would gain.

Filling all your days with joy and service;

Even in the pouring rain.

Before you even knew it;

Your final days drew near.

Not wanting to leave this place;

For a place that’s a world away from here.

Your last night you got no sleep;

All you did was toss and turn.

Giving up and staring at the ceiling;

Wondering how you'll cope when you return.

You left with everything you brought;

Shoes, ties, shirts, and the like.

All threadbare and worn out;

Unfortunately, someone stole your bike.

Once a naïve, selfish boy of nineteen;

Now a wise, unselfish man of twenty-one.

You’re sad that it’s all over;

You’re sad this day has come.

You’ve come to love the people;

And the local culture too.

You never thought that leaving;

Would be the hardest thing to do.

Your old friends and former life;

The things of this world seem obsolete.

To your testimony of the truth;

Now cemented in concrete.

Once called to be a missionary;

Once called to serve the Lord.

Once called to a place unknown;

Once called to preach his word.