Who I Am, Who I'm Becoming

From the first hour of my life, from the first breath I took, I was a daughter. That is a role I have always known, always been comfortable in; for as long as I’ve been alive, I’ve been someone’s daughter.

In fact, this part of me existed before my life here on earth—in heaven, at the beginning of my spiritual existence, I had a Heavenly Father and a Heavenly Mother. And, because (clearly) I’m not the only spirit child They ever had (I’m looking at you, my friends), my spirit has also always been a sister. Roughly three years into my earthly life, I gained that title in mortality as well.

As I have grown, there are other roles I have become. (To clarify, when I refer to “roles” in this way, I am not talking about the kind of thing an actor takes on, in the sense that it is fake. I mean that there are different relationships I have formed and different responsibilities I have assumed throughout my life.) I have become a student. A friend. A musician. Sometimes (admittedly) I became an antagonist, particularly as I was functioning in my role as a sister. I have learned to be a teacher. I’ve been a roommate, an author, a consumer. Also a hostess, custodian, cashier, secretary. I am a leader. I am a missionary. I am a disciple.

Certainly, I am not perfect in these roles, and there are some in which I feel more capable than others. (For instance, I’d say I’m pretty solid as a musician. But as an author…) I sometimes look back at my fairly brief existence on this planet and say, “Not bad, self. Look at all you’ve learned. Look at all you’ve become.”

And then I look ahead. (Cue internal panic attack.)

It’s easy for me to envision all that lies ahead of me in life and to freak out that I AM NOT READY FOR THIS. With a college degree under my belt, both grad school and real life jobs look daunting. How am I supposed to know all I need to know about loans and insurance and investments and budgets? The laws and political system in our country seem pretty intimidating to a less-than-knowledgeable girl who just wants to contribute and be a responsible voter. Wait, just how many different kinds of dishwashers exist out there??

 I think maybe some of you can relate to that “I can’t adult right now” feeling.

But at the same time, this is how we grow. We are here to be tested, to be put into new situations and figure things out. We’re not supposed to know how to be a _____ (fill in the blank) before we become that thing! We can be given advice and counsel from others who have been there before. We can do our research. But until we start functioning in a role, we won’t know how to actually fulfill it.

To me, that takes some of the scariness out of the “I don’t know what I’m doing!” feeling I often have. I don’t have to know at first—I’ll learn. And in process of learning, I’ll gain experiences, skills, abilities, and attributes that will shape me. I will grow.

On my mind lately have been two additional roles that I am about to take on, one in about a month, the other in the somewhat distant future: Wife. Mother.

These are two roles I have never been before. Once I take on these capacities, however, I will never NOT be these things. In some ways, these roles scare me like none other has. They are, after all, likely the most important responsibilities I will ever be given. But in other ways, I am more excited to be a wife and a mom than I have about anything else I’ve ever done or been. Because I know that, with the help of God, my life with my husband and children will be the best, most rewarding part of who I am.

And therein lies the key: We need God’s help. In this mortal quest to become like God, to gain the attributes that He possesses, His guiding influence and power are essential in learning our roles. He knows all things. He loves us perfectly and wants to help us. Don’t you think He will help you know how to be a better student, leader, friend, or parent?

As we accept His guidance, I know He will bless us and help us even more. He will illuminate our way, day by day, as we learn to rely on Him. I’m still not going to be perfect at things right now, and life is going to be messy no matter what.

But that’s kind of the point.

“That which is of God is light; and he that receiveth light, and continueth in God, receiveth more light; and that light groweth brighter and brighter until the perfect day.”

-Doctrine and Covenants 50:24

It Has All Been Built

Take a look around.
What do you see?
Don't forget to look up and down.
For you and for me -
It has all been built.

There are windows and doors.
Now, look at the chair or that bench.
A desk, a bed, or a chest of drawers.
You may even see a hammer or a wrench.
It has all been built.

Now, take a step back.

Do you see houses or stores?
What about roads and cars,
The restaurants and their allure,
Or the businesses never too sparse?
It has all been built.

Take a step back.

There are majestic mountains and trees,
Or maybe calming waves and sand.
A lake, river, or trickling streams.
Possibly the great wide-open land.
It has all been "built."

Take one more step back.

There's the earth and that sun beyond the moon.
Imagine the planets - Mercury, Venus and Mars.
Then Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune.
Picture it, beyond these are trillions of stars.
It has all been "built."

Now, step back in.

You see your family and friends.
Maybe co-workers and neighbors.
A list of people that will only extend.
By our Father, the Builder, the Great Creator,
We have all been "built."

Now, once more take a look around.
With different eyes you see,
as you look left, right, up and down,
It's clear; for you and for me
This has all been built.

The Vast Toolbox of Education

I was so excited to write another blog post, because I was going to go all nerdy and talk about my favorite book series, the Chronicles of Narnia… But it just wasn’t flowing. (Maybe it was a sign.)

Let me tell you about something a little more relevant in my life.

So, in case you don’t remember my last post, I just graduated from college in December with a violin performance degree, and a couple months ago was gearing up for a graduate school audition. I did the audition! And I felt great about it! But apparently, the committee hearing me didn’t think so. Or, I should rephrase that, since I’ve visited with them about what was lacking and how I can improve—apparently, I don’t quite fit the specific criteria for the program. And it’s a small program. (Teeny tiny.) So, I wasn’t accepted.

(Disclaimer—I’m actually not that upset. I’m disappointed, sure. But not shocked. And I’m not mad at all. I just really really wanted to use that meme when I started typing “apparently” a bunch…)

So. Now what? I didn’t apply to any other programs, because (surprise!) I got engaged and didn’t want to live in a totally different place than my soon-to-be husband. I told myself I’d just keep my job and try to get some students to teach, but deep down I was still feeling unresolved. Unfulfilled. Like, aren’t I supposed to be furthering my education?? I thought for sure I needed a graduate degree. Both of my parents have at least two graduate degrees each. I’ve always had this vision for myself of how my education and professional life would play out.

Now let’s jump to a totally unrelated topic.

This morning, I was studying scriptures with my fiancé. We were reading in the first book of Nephi in the Book of Mormon about the story of Nephi building the ship that his family used to sail to the promised land. The story, for those who may be unfamiliar with it or who need a refresher, goes like this.

Nephi goes up into a mountain and prays to God, and God gives him the commandment to build a ship. Nephi, who is one faithful dude, doesn’t complain like his brothers probably would have. He doesn’t doubt. Instead, he says this: “Lord, whither shall I go that I may find ore to molten, that I may make tools to construct the ship after the manner which thou hast shown unto me?” (1 Nephi 17:9)

He doesn’t expect the Lord to build the ship for him, he doesn’t ask for tools, he doesn’t even ask for the materials for the tools! He asks for direction. Once he receives instructions on where to find the ore to make the tools, he proceeds to make his own bellows out of “the skins of beasts”. He builds a fire, uses the homemade bellows to melt the ore, then makes tools to build the ship from that molten ore. And THEN he starts to build.

That really impressed me. Do you think God could have shown Nephi a place where an already-built ship was sitting in the harbor, ready to board? Definitely. Could He have handed Nephi the perfectly-constructed tools at least? Absolutely. But the Lord knew Nephi wouldn’t learn and grow if he had things just handed to him. So He helped Nephi construct the tools, gave him guidance and direction, and helped him accomplish the commandment He gave.

Now back to my life. I had a phone conversation with my parents this afternoon, during which I updated them on the grad school situation and shared with them my feelings about it. And I got some pretty wonderful advice from my dad (and very few dad jokes or puns with it, which is rare). He and my mom advised me to consider my options and find out what I could about each, and then he told me that it’s not the end of the world if I don’t get a master’s degree in violin. I could get a graduate degree in law! Or business! Or I could expand my knowledge and training in other ways. The point he made was that there are so many opportunities for education in life, I shouldn’t feel like I’m only good enough or accomplished enough if I do one certain thing.

This piece of advice gave me hope. Can you imagine if Nephi had only melted enough ore to make one hammer? And how difficult that would have made it to build an entire ship? God provided the raw materials and instructions to the young Nephi, and Nephi (wisely) used those gifts to make a variety of tools.

Likewise, we’ve been commanded to make education a big part of our lives. “Seek ye diligently and teach one another words of wisdom; yea, seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom; seek learning, even by study and also by faith” (D&C 88:118). “Study and learn, and become acquainted with all good books, and with languages, tongues, and people” (D&C 90:15). “It is my will that you should… obtain a knowledge of history, and of countries, and of kingdoms, of laws of God and man, and all this for the salvation of Zion” (D&C 93:53). “A wise man will hear, and will increase learning” (Proverbs 1:5). But Heavenly Father does not leave us to fend for ourselves—He has given each of us talents, direction, and spiritual gifts and has promised that as we cultivate them and use them to obtain education, we will be blessed.

Perhaps navigating life is like building a ship; if so, we are fortunate to have education as our tools. But we need not limit ourselves to just a hammer, or just a college degree! That’s a pretty narrow way of thinking. Learning is a life-long adventure, and we would do well to use the gifts our Father has given us to expand our knowledge and skills. And let’s be clear—even though it would be really nice to have facts and information somehow planted in our brains, or to have a fancy piece of paper handed to us titled “master’s degree”, God doesn’t work that way. We have to put in the effort in order to gain anything and to grow.

So. Will I move forward with my plan to get a degree beyond my bachelor’s? Possibly. But I could also apply myself in the workplace, or get a degree in business and start up that bakery I’ve only ever dreamed about, or study writing and literature and (hey, who knows) get deeper into this blog-writing thing. Maybe I’ll read up on cooking styles and techniques and get fancy in the kitchen. Maybe I’ll learn more about musicianship by teaching. I suppose I could invest in a rocking chair and take up crocheting.

But one thing is certain—I will not mope around and think that my future educational opportunities are restricted. I will apply myself in whatever situation I find myself in. And I will look to Jesus Christ, who gives me strength and the beautiful hope that things only continue to get better and better if I’m focusing on Him.

Vapor Trails

One week into my LDS mission, I found myself tramping down a frozen street in Antwerp, Belgium, trying to keep my feet warm and wondering if I could actually do this. Each day, we wandered through the maze of Antwerp's ancient streets, in and out of neighborhoods filled with refugees and illegal immigrants, the snobbish rich and the desperately poor. We walked through the sleet and ice and snow. No one wanted to talk with a soaked American missionary girl who couldn't speak a word of Flemish.

I'd expected rejection, of course, but I hadn't expected to be half-frozen or to be so completely out of my element with the language. I'd learned a bit of Dutch in the missionary training center back home, but the Flemish dialect sounded completely foreign to me, and it was hard to concentrate on the words when my coat was soaked through with icy water. Besides, everyone we talked to seemed to speak some other language anyway—Arabic or French or Mandarin or Spanish. They all seemed angry or sad, although I couldn't be sure. I didn't understand what they were saying.

My companion was about half a block ahead of me, trying to figure out the bus schedule so that we could get to an appointment with a member of our church. I felt bone-tired and scared to death. I wasn't thinking about going home, but over and over, I heard the timid voice inside my head saying, "You can't do this for a year and a half. You can't you can't you can't."

I looked up in desperation, praying that the blasted snow would let up for a moment. As I did, my eye caught a patch of color—a break in the clouds and a reminder that the sky still existed, and it was beautiful, bright, happy blue.

It was a miracle. The sun! I called out to my companion, but she wasn't listening. I watched as I walked, marveling. There are places in the world where they see blue sky all day long! Places like Honolulu, South Africa. Why hadn't I been assigned to live there!? There's no snow in Honolulu. Missionaries don't freeze to death in South Africa.

As my hungry eyes snatched at the blue, a single airplane passed overhead and crossed my miraculous patch of sky. Behind it, a long vapor trail followed its progress. The plane disappeared behind the clouds, but the vapor trail remained, cutting in half my sky.

Photo by Richard Ashley

Revelation comes like the falling snow, sometimes: soft, gradual, still. Other times it comes like a sudden glimpse of a blue sky and a wandering vapor trail, sudden and absolute. I understood something so clearly in that moment. Watching that vapor trail, I realized that I had 18 months to make my mark before I would be the one in an airplane, making a vapor trail above a country that I already loved in spite of its hard chill. 18 months to live with deliberation and change lives, if I could. "18 months," said the timid inside-my-head voice, "to not freeze to death." But I shrugged it away. I knew what I had to do. And I would do it. Every day would count, every conversation would matter.

Belgium, I decided, would not kill me! I would love it in spite of itself! I would love it to submission! Belgium would regret the day it made war with me!

And with that, I met my companion, smiled, and got to work—frozen toes and all.

Funny what a little old vapor trail can do for you. From that moment on, the glimpse of an airplane in the air or a vapor trail raking the sky was a reminder. Live. Do it right. Work harder. Every time I spotted one, I felt my courage rise and my determination solidify.

Eventually, vapor trails came to mean something else to me. They still motivated me, but they were a reminder of the Person who, in my mind, had sent my first vapor trail at the moment when I would understand—and need—it most. They came to mean little loves notes from the God I love and was trying to serve. They became tender, personal—an intentional sign between my God and me. "Heavenly Father loves you," said each vapor trail, "so work hard and give Him everything you can."

God picked the right sign. Belgium (and the Netherlands, where I would move eventually, abandon my Flemish, and begin to relearn Dutch) rests just below the aerial crossroads of nearly every major airport in Europe. Some days, the sky was literally criss-crossed with vapor trails, seven or eight of them gleaming in the enormous northern sky. Have you ever been showered with affection? Been absolutely secure in someone's love? Those were moments of confidence and joy for me, those impossibly many vapor trails. I loved them.

Photo by Eleleven

A year and a half later, I sat on an airplane, parked on the dark, pre-dawn runway, and cried and cried. Somehow, just as that first vapor trail had predicted, I had fallen in love with Belgium and with Holland. I'd worked hard—not perfectly, but hard—and somehow my heart had seeped into the lowlands, the bicycles and tulips, the people and the place. How could I leave if my heart wasn't with me anymore? The Belgians and the Dutch, they'd stolen it away.

I looked through the window and gasped. That glorious Dutch sun had risen to greet the cold spring day, and the sun lit up vapor trails—layers and layers of them. Thirty vapor trails at least, sharing the sky and climbing toward eternity. I'd never seen so many. I'd never felt so loved. The woman next to me patted my hand. She probably thought that I was on my way to a funeral, the way I was sobbing. She couldn't know that I was crying because I was happier than I'd ever been.



Vapor trails have become a personal miracle. There's one outside my window now, and when I see one, I know that God loves me, likes me, wants me home. It seems like such a silly thing, to take so much meaning from a stripe of water in the sky, but if it helps me remember my heavenly home, what does it matter?



Heavenly Father reminds you every day of how much you're adored, taken care of, and loved. Find your vapor trail.

I promise that its there.

"Men are, that they might have joy"

“Men are, that they might have joy”2 Nephi 2:25


Aside from posting for a humanities class my freshman year of college, I have never written a blog post, and I'm a bit nervous... Hello world, I guess... Frankly, after writing a dozen papers a semester for four years, I truly believed I would never want to write again. It’s not so much that I dislike writing, but I am a procrastinator and I certainly dislike writing at 5:00am, wondering if I am going to have time to finish my last two arguments and slap a conclusion on my rough, unedited, goobery, piece of a paper before I turn it in at 8:00am. This is just one example of how choices can make life harder than it has to be. To illustrate this idea more fully, I would like to tell you about Christmas Day 2015.

It was a dark and stormy night. It was 2:15am, so the dark was expected. The storm was also expected. I’d spent Christmas Eve alternating between crying pitifully and grousing that life simply wasn’t fair. The haunting melody of Padme and Anakin’s love song “Across the Stars” woke me (I say haunting, because it still haunts me whenever I hear it. Should’ve picked a song I didn’t like for my ringtone that day.) I slogged out of bed and got ready to head over to shovel snow. I work as a ¾ time employee at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, and according to all of the weather apps it was expected to snow most of Christmas Day. All of the other employees were out of town because it was Christmas Break at school. It was just my brother, my boss and I.

We got there, grabbed our tools and started out. My brother took the snow-blower and I the old-school shovel. We went around campus removing the first layer of snow, about 6 (billlion) inches (I’m probably going to get exaggerate-y here. I can’t help it, partly because it’s in my nature, and partly because it really was the worst…) By the time we had completed our first round, there were another 4 inches where we had begun, so there was nothing to be done but start all over. At this point my brother hopped on the ice-melt spreader so that he could follow our boss around and try to hold off the next snow assault.

Now it was just me trudging around to keep the snow from collecting around the doorways and on the stairs. I knew that we were the only grounds crew on the whole of Brigham Young University campus that had been called in that day. In fact, I just knew we were the only people in the whole world shoveling snow. As the weight of this fact and the realization that the snow wasn’t stopping anytime soon hit me, I went through all five stages of grief, denial (we’ll be going home soon. it’ll stop snowing even though the meteorologists predicted snow showers throughout the day. that’s a quack science anyway) anger (this is stupid. no one is going to break a hip. mutter, mutter. walk carefully you big weirdos. are you seriously kicking that tree on purpose so that snow will fall right where we just shoveled?! sputter, sputter. I’ll get you. And your little dog too) bargaining (if you make it stop snowing, I’ll be the best kid. I’ll even keep all of my new year’s resolutions this year) depression (we are never going home. it will never stop snowing. probably this year I’ll just have to eat worms for breakfast instead of eggs benedict. Christmas and family tradition are r-u-i-n-e-d. sniffle, sniffle) and acceptance (we did sign up for this. at least this’ll pay for the Christmas presents I bought this year). Unfortunately, the acceptance stage seemed to last for a relatively short time before I began the process all over again. This was our first Christmas together as a family since 2011. All of our coworkers were spending Christmas with their families. Life just wasn’t fair!!!

We did eventually go home that day. Around 3:30 the snow let up and we were allowed to go. A lot of our traditions really were messed up. The family was not very happy when we got home, and for a little while it looked like we were going to skip everything Christmas-y and just go to bed, because everybody was having a “terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.” Grinchyyy. We pulled ourselves together eventually, were able to eat Christmas breakfast at 7:00pm and finished opening presents around midnight.

Okay, so where is the silver lining one might ask…? Sorry I took so much space to vent. Obviously I’m still not really in the acceptance stage yet, as I’m writing this two months later and I’m just as acerbic about the whole situation as ever. I still have flashbacks when I see the snow-blower at work… I promise there is a bright spot to this all. The week leading up to Christmas day I watched several “based on real events/true story” films. Among these were Heart of the Sea, Unbroken, and The Impossible. As I walked around the MTC I kept thinking about the characters in these films. There are tons of people who have way, way worse days than I did. The Impossible even follows a family who had a way worse Christmas time than I. A tsunami hits Thailand on the 26th of December 2004 and they, along with the rest of the population spend the next few weeks trying to survive. I don’t want to spoil the movie for anyone, so I will just leave it at that. Needless to say, shoveling snow is not the worst thing anyone has ever had to endure.

As I thought about all of the people who have way worse lives than I do, I felt pretty ashamed of myself. (I still do.) I thought about a bunch of quotes about positivity and endurance. One quote specifically came to mind “No misfortune is so bad that whining about it won’t make it worse,” (This quote comes specifically from Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, but I’ve heard that similar sentiments have been expressed by others over the years). The last couple of months I have been extremely ungrateful for the things that I have. I keep pretty focused on the negative. I work a couple of jobs that I don’t love and I feel like life seems to be filled with a bunch of pretty blah, though not terrible, days. I know that part of the purpose of life is to experience joy, but I sometimes get so caught up in monotony (or in the trial and tribulation of early morning snow removal…) that I forget to seek for, and choose to feel that joy every day. I do believe that happiness is a choice and am embarrassed that I am sometimes too weak to make it.

Thinking back on Christmas, though it wasn’t the experience I wanted for that day, it began a process of thought that I am still trying to turn into life application. I won’t say that I was happy, as such terrible falsehood would certainly require repentance, but I can say that I thought more about the child whose birth the day celebrated, and what His coming means for me. The Savior, Jesus Christ loves us. I testify that not only is He the ultimate reason behind our joy, but He can even help us as we strive to overcome pessimistic weaknesses and choose to be happy.

Your Worth and Mine - What is it?

Have you every thought about the word "worth"?

How would you define it?

How about when it comes to an individual's worth?  And what about your worth?

My bet is you may have come up with a profound and insightful answer.  It's not too hard right?  Or is it?  Honestly, how can "worth" be defined?  And where does "worth " come from?  These things have been on my mind quite a bit lately.  Believe it or not, the worth of things and people play a huge role in my life and yours.

To questions like these I have found that knowing or even coming up with an answer may be hard.  To some it may be easy.   We might include, "A person's worth is infinite."  Some of us might recognize this one: "The worth of souls is great in the sight of God."  An online definition defines "worth" as, "the value equivalent to that of someone or something under consideration; the level at which someone or something deserves to be valued or rated."  There are many possible definitions!

I have settled on this one: "The worth of a person or object is what is given or given up to obtain it or on behalf of it."  Think about it.  How much are our phones worth to us - not the value, but their worth?  We might give a dollar amount because that's what we paid.  Take it a step further.  What would we be willing to give and give up to keep it?  That's how much it is actually worth to us.  How about our clothes, car, or house?  How about education?  Spirituality?  Health?  "Worth," in my opinion, comes down to a relationship between the object/person of worth and the entity to which it has worth.  Food to you and me may be worth a lot more to someone in Africa.  A snow shovel will not have as much worth to someone in Florida right now than someone in the northeast.  They will all be willing to give and give up different amounts.

Now I'm going to get a little personal so bear with me.  The reason I've been thinking about this so much is I have realized how easy it is myself to "pull" or get worth from many different things.  Over the years it has been grades, work performance, food, being "better" at something than someone else, and many others including watching and following sports.  That last one was a big one because I love sports, but I realized I was "getting" something out of my team winning.  It was as if someone else's success equated my success.  That is a little ridiculous though since I never attended practice or stepped foot on the court or field!  (Don't get me wrong I'll still be watching and following occasionally.)

What I'm getting at is I have realized that sometimes I can pull worth from external things.  The truth is no matter how high my grades are, how well I do at work, what food I eat, how much "better" I am than someone else, or how well the Utah Jazz or BYU does in sports my worth is not more or less.  That's a good thing as Jazz fan by the way, especially if you know how well they've done the past 10 years.  And if you follow BYU sports then you'd understand that would mean my worth would depend on the week and even the day.

Seriously though, it is the truth.  Of course, accomplishing goals and progressing brings a sense of fulfillment.  It does not increase or decrease worth though.  My worth and yours is infinite regardless of what we do.  There are some who want to say that it does, but that simply is not the case.

Based on the definition earlier we can think of it this way:

How much has been given and given up for us or on our behalf?

What have our parents or extended relatives given and given up for us or on our behalf?  Time is an obvious one.  9 months of our mothers' life.  Money.  Means.  Sleep.  A part of themselves.  And a lot more.

How about other family members?  Or teachers?  Or friends?  A lot has been given and given up for us and on our behalf!  With all of that, even more has been given and given up.  

The most important is what, I believe, Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ have given, give, and given up.  I believe Christ taught us how much we and His Father were "worth" to Him when He lived a perfect life, served, healed, taught truth, obeyed, suffered for us, and then, ultimately, gave His life.  And he still keeps on giving.

And what about Heavenly Father?  He is the one who sent His Son to do those things because He loves us and knows our worth.  He gave up His Son.  Because of that we can be sure of the infinite individual worth we have.  Think of it.  If he has been and is willing to do all that and still continues giving imagine how he must see us and what He sees in us.  Lasting worth cannot come from those external things or what the world has to tell us because it simply is not based on that.  This does not mean what we do is not important either.  As worth is understood more and more progress and works can be seen as products, not determinants of worth.  As we believe we have infinite and divine worth, I believe we will want to do the right thing and avoid other things based on what we know and what we are worth.

So during the times we might question or find our worth questioned by others we can think about all that is given and given up for you and me and on our behalf by many people.  You and I are worth it. 

Perseverance, Greatness & Roger Federer

I had a major epiphany a couple of weeks ago around 3:05 AM. It wasn’t what you might expect; I didn’t have any deep thoughts robbing me of my sleep, nor was I lying in bed contemplating the meaning of the universe. No, my circumstance was little less noble; I had woken up, wrapped myself in a couple blankets, and turned on the TV to watch Roger Federer play in Australia.

A little backstory for those unfamiliar with Roger: He was formerly the number one tennis player in the world, and in his prime, he made a very compelling case for the greatest tennis player of all time. He was an absolute juggernaut a couple of years ago, breaking records right and left as he made the outcome of every major tournament seem predictable. But then nature happened, and slowly his stranglehold of tennis dominance began to fade, as Federer’s athletic dominance started to decline, and younger players began to challenge him for dominance. Eventually a new star in the tennis world rose and wrested the top position in the world from Federer.

The incredible thing about this story though, is not the heights that Federer reached in his prime; it’s the way in which he has dealt with his aging. Professional tennis isn’t a sport meant for longevity, and Federer is well past the age when most players stop being able to compete. Roger shouldn’t be able to hold his own on the court, yet between every major tournament, he goes back to his practice courts and does a little tinkering. He comes up with a new move or trick or strategy, something just different enough that it might be able to allow him to win in a more energy-efficient way; just enough to give him a fighting shot at winning the tournament.

Cut back to me and my adventure at 3 AM. I, like a lot of the tennis world, held out hope that Federer would be able to turn back the clock and win one more major tournament. But he would face his toughest challenge, as he took on the current world number one in the semifinal. So I turned on the TV about 45 minutes after play started, and groaned aloud when I saw the score. Federer wasn’t just losing; he was getting hammered! He had fallen into an insurmountable hole, and the only thing left to determine was how big of a blow-out the match would end up being.

I nearly turned the TV off right then. Why waste my sleep if my hero was getting absolutely humiliated in front of the world? But I found myself riveted by the action on the screen. While I was watching, Federer hit some outrageously difficult shots and played tennis that can only be described as beautiful. I was instantly riveted. Logic said that Federer really wasn’t playing to win at that point—anybody familiar with the situation could have told you his loss was all but assured. Nobody falls that far behind the best player in the world in his prime and then comes back to win. But Federer sure could have fooled anybody; without a sense of panic or hopelessness, he simply raised his level of play and continued to fight on, ignoring the score.

Federer lost the match that day, but he re-defined greatness in my mind. And here’s where the parallel with life comes in. You see, nobody is perfect in this world. I’m not, and you’re not (no offense intended). I have lots of moments where I struggle with what seems to be an insurmountable difficulty. You know, those things we call bad habits, or character flaws, weaknesses, or what have you. And all too often, I fail at overcoming it. I lose a round. I eat the cookie, I sleep in too late, I keep quiet when I should’ve spoken up. And you know what? It hurts. I feel like a failure.

But what Federer taught me is that greatness isn’t only found in the successes in life. His play that day merits the term “great”—and he lost! Roger’s greatness came from the struggle, the effort, the intensity and the perseverance he showed. That’s greatness—to bounce back from difficulty and come back for another round. To lose and then to put in the time to get better and try again. Greatness means to tinker a little—to arm yourself with some new knowledge, technique, wisdom, or plan, and then head right back into the fray of overcoming weaknesses.

Heaven cannot be full of only perfect people; if so, there would only be one person there. What God expects of us is a real effort to change. The sacrifice performed by Jesus Christ takes care of all of the sins, mistakes, weaknesses, and shortcomings we have--he makes sure we win in the final score. Our part is simply to try. I’m reminded of a beautiful thought by an LDS leader, D. Todd Christofferson:

“It would mock the Savior’s suffering in the Garden of Gethsemane and on the cross for us to expect that He should transform us into angelic beings with no real effort on our part. Rather, we seek His grace to complement and reward our most diligent efforts. Perhaps as much as praying for mercy, we should pray for time and opportunity to work and strive and overcome. Surely the Lord smiles upon one who desires to come to judgment worthily, who resolutely labors day by day to replace weakness with strength. Real repentance, real change may require repeated attempts, but there is something refining and holy in such striving.”   

Friends, if you ever feel like you’ve failed at life, remember Roger Federer. Remember that greatness isn’t always defined by the final score—it’s defined by the struggle during the game. No loss is permanent when you place yourself on the side of Jesus Christ. And one day, with divine help, you will succeed. Until that day comes, persevere. Fight on. Try, and then try again. And again.

“It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.”

-Confucius