At first, Austin’s letters home had been full of news about how hard he was working and about the success he and his companion were about to have. But then, gradually, in the face of continuing futility, his hopes began to fade. The success his brothers had experienced was somehow eluding him. No baptisms meant no leadership opportunities.
He wondered what his mother was telling people about him when they asked. Maybe something like, “He’s keeping busy.” But even that wasn’t the truth. He wasn’t keeping busy. That was part of the problem. His first companion had been about to go home and had not been that concerned about working hard. They had spent a lot of time at members’ homes and did very little teaching. And they’d had no baptisms.
Elder Briggs, his current companion, had health problems—an inner ear condition that caused him to get nauseated when he got out of bed. The best thing he could do when that happened was to just stay in bed and hope it would soon pass.
Elder Hastings continued. “If you’ll plan your work and then work your plan . . .”
Austin groaned inwardly. It seemed so unfair that he should be forced to listen to Elder Hastings talk about his success. In the MTC, Austin had been the acknowledged leader in their district, much more so than Elder Hastings. Now, when the mission newsletter came each month, it was a painful reminder of his lack of success. He was not named as one of the elders on the Top Ten List. Excerpts from his weekly letter to the mission president were not quoted as examples of what could be done if you only worked. He was not listed as being a new district leader, zone leader, or mission assistant.
He was a nobody.
But at least the mission newsletter only came out once a month. Having Hastings as his district leader was going to be the ultimate put-down. There was nothing harder to live with than a person who’d had quick and easy success. Austin dreaded all the well-meaning advice he was going to get in the near future.
If I’d had at least one decent companion, I could have done as well as Hastings. All I need is somebody who can work hard.
Hastings was on a roll. He concluded with, “If you’ll just follow these steps, you can have the same kind of success my companions and I have had.”
Finally, Hastings sat down and President Merrill stood up to address the missionaries.
“Well, we’ve had some excellent counsel today. Thank you, Elder Hastings. There’s really not that much I can add to what you’ve already said.”
Austin winced. Hastings will be mission assistant within three months. Just my luck, he thought bitterly.
The meeting ended half an hour later. During lunch, President Merrill began interviewing missionaries.
Chapter 3
Austin dreaded the interview because he had so little to report. While waiting, he went to the Primary room and sat at the piano and played hymns he’d learned in high school when he was the priesthood pianist.
After a while, Hastings looked into the room. “President Merrill asked me to find you. He’d like to talk to you now.”
Austin blushed because he was sure that Hastings must think he was a problem elder for President Merrill to specifically ask for him.
As Austin stood up to go with Hastings, Hastings stuck out his hand. “It’s going to be great working with you again, Elder.”
Austin nodded halfheartedly. “Maybe you can help me have the same kind of success you’ve had.” He was being sarcastic, but he was sure Hastings wouldn’t take it that way.
“Well, you can! We’re in this together. If we all do our part, we can all succeed.”
And if we do, that will be your ticket to being mission assistant, Austin thought as he followed Hastings to the bishop’s office where President Merrill was interviewing missionaries.
There were five elders ahead of him.
“He’ll be next,” Hastings said to the elders in front of Austin.
The elder who had been first in line raised his eyebrows. Austin saw the gesture. They all think I’m a problem elder. Well, maybe I am. I haven’t had any baptisms. I don’t work enough hours. I’m not sure I can support my district leader. My companion and I don’t get along that well, especially when he lays in bed half the day. So maybe I am a problem elder.
He felt his face getting hot. This is so unfair. I haven’t done anything wrong. I can’t help it that Briggs gets sick all the time.
I don’t care what people think, I haven’t done anything wrong, he thought. And yet he’d been tempted, and that made him feel guilty. He’d thought of going jogging by himself on the days when Elder Briggs was sick in bed. It was hard for him to sit around in a dumpy apartment with nothing to do.
And then there was the time he’d looked out the window and seen the girl in the apartment next door having trouble getting her car started. He’d thought about going outside and giving her a hand. He was sure he could have gotten her car started, but being there alone with her would have been a violation of mission rules. So he let her solve her problem herself. But she was good-looking, and after that he watched her each morning when she walked out to her car. He knew that was not what he should be doing. But when he had nothing to look forward to each day except hoping that Briggs would feel better in the afternoon so they could go out and do a little missionary work, it was easy to fall into bad habits.
I wonder if Briggs told the president about the time I slugged him? I hope not. It wasn’t that big of a deal. I just lost my temper, that’s all. And I didn’t hit him that hard.
The wait in line seemed to take forever.
“The president is taking a long time in there with Elder Rice, isn’t he?” the elder behind him said to Austin. “When that happens, it usually means . . . major problems.”
“Really?” Austin said. “Maybe they’re just talking.”
“I doubt it. Not when the president’s got so many to interview.” The elder paused. “How come you get special treatment?”
“My companion and I have to leave early. We have a discussion scheduled at six.”
It was a lie, but Austin didn’t care.
“Where’s your companion then? The president will have to interview you both before you go. He should be here with you so you can leave.”
Austin shook his head. He wasn’t going to continue making up lies. “I was just kidding. I don’t know why the president wants to interview me now.”
“It’s usually a problem when that happens.”
“You’re absolutely right. Look, why don’t we save ourselves a lot of trouble. You go in and tell the president what my problem is. And then we’ll both be happy. I mean, you seem to know so much. There’s really no need for me to even be interviewed, is there? You pretty much know my life story.”
“Hey, back off, okay? You don’t need to get hostile.”
“Look, I don’t even want to talk to you.”
The elder nodded. “I’m not surprised the president wants to see you right away. You know what? I just feel sorry for your companion, that’s all.”
Austin felt like starting a fight.
And that is when the president opened the door. The elder who’d been in with the president left quickly. His face was red. Problem elder, Austin thought.
President Merrill smiled, shook Austin’s hand, and escorted him into the office. “Oh, good! Elder Hastings found you. He gave a fine talk today, didn’t he? You’re lucky to have him for your district leader.”
“Yes, of course,” Austin said, tight-lipped.
Don’t say anything. Just get through this interview as fast as possible, he told himself. He pictured the elder next in line timing him to see how long the interview took. Anything over five minutes would be taken as an indication that Austin had a major problem.
“How are you getting along?” President Merrill asked.
“Good, I guess.”
“How are things between you and Elder Briggs?”
“All right.”
“Really? When I interviewed him a few minutes ago, he said you ne
arly beat him up once in front of a housing development. He said people were watching the two of you from their windows.”
“Oh, that. I didn’t really hit him . . . at least not very hard. Well, okay, I might have shoved him a little. I’m surprised he even remembered it.”
“What brought it on?”
“Well, you know, he gets sick some days and can’t even get out of bed. That means I have to spend the whole day in the apartment. That gets old fast. One time, after two days of that, I told him I didn’t care how he felt, we were going tracting. Well, we got out there, but after about fifteen minutes he said he was feeling sick and needed to go back to the apartment. That’s when I told him he was doing it on purpose and that we weren’t going back to the apartment. I might have shoved him a little. He fell down, and I was standing over him yelling. When we noticed people watching us from their windows, I helped him up, and we drove back to our apartment. Since then, when he gets sick, I just let him be sick. So things are a lot better now.”
“I appreciate your willingness to work with Elder Briggs. I know it hasn’t been easy.”
Austin nodded, then looked at his watch. He shouldn’t stay much longer or the elders in line would start wondering what his problem was. He wanted to move this along. “I’m living the mission rules, President.”
“Good for you.” He paused. “Are you happy?”
Austin looked again at his watch. I’ve got to get out of here.
“I guess so,” he said.
“You don’t look happy.”
He gave a big phony grin. “Looks like I need to tell my face then, doesn’t it? Look, President, I’m okay. I know you’ve got a lot of interviews to do. I’m doing okay. Really.”
“You don’t want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about. Really, I’m fine.”
The president noticed him looking at his watch. “Are you in a hurry? Do you have an appointment?”
“No.”
“Then why do you keep looking at your watch?”
“There are people outside.”
President Merrill understood. He went to the door and told the elders in line to go to the chapel. He said he’d have Elder Hastings get them when it was their turn.
And then President Merrill returned, closed the door, and sat down. “Tell me why you’re not happy.”
“Is it important that I be happy? I’m keeping the mission rules. Isn’t that enough?”
“That’s just the beginning. There’s a whole lot more than that. Tell me what’s going on. I really want to know.”
Austin sighed and decided he would be honest with President Merrill. He looked down at his hands. “I’m not making the progress I should be making. I haven’t had any baptisms, and my mission is half over. My brothers went from being district leaders to zone leaders to mission assistants. It doesn’t look like I’m ever going to have any leadership responsibilities. Everyone talks about what a good missionary Elder Hastings is. Well, I was in the MTC with him. He was good then, but I was even better. I was the district leader in the MTC. And now he’s the star and I’m a nobody. With Elder Briggs sick so much of the time, we don’t work enough hours. We don’t teach enough. We have no prospects for baptism. I just about go crazy when he’s sick in bed. I can’t leave him. I came here to work and I’m not able to do that.”
He felt as though he might cry and looked away from his mission president. Finally, he said, “I pretty much feel like a failure.” He sighed. “Other than that, things are going okay.”
President Merrill nodded and reached for his scriptures, then read from Doctrine and Covenants, Section 18: “And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!”
The scripture brought no comfort to Austin. “Right now it looks like I could go my whole mission and not even have one baptism.”
“What if that one soul were Elder Briggs? Or what if it’s yourself? Wouldn’t that count too?”
Austin shook his head. “Probably not.” He felt a rush of emotion, and he hated himself for feeling it. “The truth is, President, any way you want to look at it, I don’t measure up. You know that, and I know that, so let’s not try to hide the fact from each other.”
“If you’re doing what the Savior wants you to do, how can that be considered not measuring up?”
“I came out here to teach and baptize. Well, I haven’t had any baptisms. Doesn’t that make me a failure?”
President Merrill stood up and came around the desk. Facing Austin, he put his hand on Austin’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “When I was a little boy, some days I used to pretend I was a fireman, or the next day I might pretend I was an Air Force pilot, but at the end of each day, I’d take off my fireman hat or I’d put away my model airplane, and then I’d still just be a boy.”
That’s just what I need, Austin thought sarcastically, another story about him growing up on a farm in Idaho.
“This is similar to our situation. We are disciples of Jesus Christ who, right now, are missionaries. You could become a district leader, Elder. You’re certainly of the caliber of person who would make a good district leader. But even if that happens, you will still be a disciple of Jesus Christ who also happens to be a district leader. And when you’re released from your mission, you’ll be a disciple of Jesus Christ who just happens to be a college student or a gas station attendant or whatever it is you choose to do with your time.”
Austin was staring at the carpet, just waiting for the interview to be over.
President Merrill reached out and touched the tip of Austin’s chin with his forefinger and lifted it until Austin was looking directly into President Merrill’s eyes. “Elder, the Savior couldn’t love you any more now, if you were a district leader or a zone leader or an assistant to the president. I have assigned you where I believe the Lord wants you to serve. Don’t second-guess the Savior. Serve him the best you can in the position you are in and then just trust the Lord to make it turn out the best for the kingdom.”
Austin fought to control his emotions. He felt love emanating from the president, and so he listened with his heart.
“I know it’s not easy being Elder Briggs’s companion. You’ve lasted longer than his last four companions. Elder Briggs is hoping he can serve out his entire mission. If he does, it will be because of you. Try to work with him the best you can. If you’ll do that, I promise you, you’ll be blessed for it.”
Tears welled up in Austin’s eyes as, for the first time in months, he felt appreciated. It was a great relief to know he had the president’s respect and confidence.
The president continued. “Try to think about the Savior more. Try to reach out to others the way the Savior would. If you do that, everything will change. He is our Guide, our Example, and our Redeemer. Look to Him and live.”
As they shook hands, President Merrill drew Austin in close and gave him a hug.
“Thank you, President,” Austin said. “I’ll try to do better.”
“Let me know how it goes. Call me anytime you need to talk to me.”
Stepping away, Austin blew his nose and wiped his eyes. The trick was not to look as though he’d been crying. Elders would pick up on that and believe the worst, and then privately be merciless.
He opened the door and walked swiftly down the hall, hoping to get somewhere he could be by himself for a few minutes.
As he walked past the kitchen, he saw two women from the ward who were preparing lunch. They were working alone. After watching them for a moment, Austin cleared his throat and asked, “Do you need any help?”
“Why, yes, we do. We were supposed to have four women come and help, but two of them haven’t shown up yet. Could you cut the Jell-O into squares and put them on a plate on top of a bed of lettuce?”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Thank you so much. How consider
ate of you to offer. I’ve been preparing lunches for these conferences for three years, and you’re the first elder to offer to help in the kitchen.”
Austin didn’t know why, but hearing her say that brought tears to his eyes. He said nothing but washed his hands in the sink and went to work on the Jell-O.
It was the perfect place for him at that moment. The two women ignored him as they talked about their families, and the elders avoided him because they didn’t want to help out. So it left him time to himself to collect his thoughts.
In a way he found it strange to be doing this. His dad never helped in the kitchen. Maybe his father thought that was woman’s work.
From now on, I’m not going to worry what my dad thinks or what my mom thinks or what impossible goals I might have set for myself before my mission. Instead of setting goals to baptize so many people, I’m going to set a goal of trying to put the Savior first in my life. He treated others with compassion. I’ll try to do the same thing. Even Elder Briggs. That’s the only goal I can set on my mission that can carry over after my mission.
Austin smiled at how precisely he had measured and cut the Jell-O into squares. It meant that everyone would get the same amount. That is the way it should be. Strangely enough, even though all he was doing was cutting Jell-O into squares, he felt happy to be giving service.
He felt a lot better now.
* * * * *
Emily woke up at seven in the morning but church wasn’t until eleven.
She stretched then relaxed, choosing to stay in bed and let herself wake up slowly. For the first time in months, she had no papers or exams to worry about and no Sunday School lesson to prepare for church that day.
The apartment normally housed four girls, but because it was the end of the semester, Molly, in the other bedroom, was the only other one still left. The other two had left for home after their last final exam.
It seemed like such a luxury not to have to get up and to be done with school for an entire summer. And, if she got a job working at a TV station, maybe forever.