Blogging My Autobiography - Chapter 19

I was a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for two years in Japan. Outside of marrying my wife and the birth of our two children this event was the most important of my life. The lessons learned there have touched every aspect of my time in this mortal sphere. To try and put all of that down in one chapter will be impossible. My journal entries alone would cover at least 100 typewritten pages. So I will be writing two chapters on my experiences and lessons from Japan and this will close out my teenage years. I came home an adult at age 21 with a different view of the world.

It was not a given that I would go on a mission. Being the rebel that I was at the time, I really thought that I would be better served going to school and getting my degree. I wanted to be a journalist, writing and taking pictures for National Geographic or Life Magazine. Consequently I was majoring in English at school and toying with art classes. We had just finished the 60’s and my views were somewhat left of where they are now. A mission was not really on my mind until Grant, my advisor, came to me and asked me if I planned on going on a mission. I told him I hadn't given it much thought. He said, “If you are not going, then you can forget about working on the fire crew this year. If you do decide to go, then you can work this summer and make some money towards it.” Well that did get me thinking, quite a lot, actually. In March of that year, I thought I should ask God about it so I went in the bathroom to pray alone. I remember kneeling at the bathtub asking what to do and telling the Lord that I was willing, but still unsure. The answer did not come until I stood up and went to the door. It flashed in my head that I was going to Japan and then I knew what I should do. I worked that summer as Grant had promised and when the call came, I didn’t even need to open the letter, I knew what it would say, Japan Tokyo Mission.

Every missionary has obstacles to overcome during their mission. For some, leaving home is a terrible thing and homesickness becomes a problem. Others have issues with testimony or pride. For me, it was Japanese, compounded by pride and ego. I suppose that testimony for me was something of an issue at first, but all it took to sort that out was the Book of Mormon. After that, I really didn’t doubt. What I did come to doubt was my ability to learn Japanese. All my life I had been able to learn very quickly anything I put my mind to. The Japanese language was a brick wall that I ran into at 80 miles an hour. We spent 3 months in Hawaii drilling for 12 hours a day all of the 43 sounds that make up Japanese. We also drilled on phrases like konnichi wa (good day) and hajimemashite (pleasure to meet you). We also had to memorize the lesson plan, 7 lessons that explained our church and it’s beliefs. I worked very hard, but nothing was coming. Two months in, I was ready to go home. It was either that or run away and never go home or worse. It got so bad I wrote my father about it. My father and I rarely saw eye to eye on anything, though I have never known anyone who understood the Gospel better. For me to write him was truly a desperate act. Amazingly he responded with a letter that I still have today. It was compassionate, loving and full of good advice. I knew it was pride that was holding me back. I told him so and he agreed. He said that it was OK to acknowledge ability but not good to be puffed up in self pride, which goeth before a fall. He told me that it was OK to grow in ability and that this would take time. Being a farm boy, he used a metaphor from his youth. “When you are thinning beets, don’t look up the row at what you have to do, you will get discouraged. Look back at what you have done and the end of the row will come quicker than you think” I looked back at where I was then compared to when I started and saw the progress. I was encouraged enough to make it to Japan, then it started all over again.

The first 6 months were heaven and hell in Japan. The language was a huge barrier still. Most folks will tell you that I am a talker. That’s Grandma Grace’s family completely. They all have the gift of gab. A person like that who can’t express themselves to the people around them feels like they are drowning in a sea of gibberish. The frustration grew, inhibiting my progress with the lesson plan. I could not give the lessons without the book. At the time, if you had not passed off the lessons you did your reports on a pink sheet. When you passed them all off, you went to a white sheet. All of my peers and some younger missionaries had become white sheeters. All of them, except me. Finally it came to a head and I locked myself in a closet and would not come out. My companion was sympathetic but wanted to work. So our Zone Language Leader, a senior missionary who was responsible for our progress in the language, stayed with me. I stayed in that closet for 6 hours, crying, ranting and pounding the floor spending all of my energy in a petulant, frustrated fit. He was calm through the whole thing, listening and helping me with sticking points in the lessons until he said, “Look, I know you have the language to do this, I think you know more than you give yourself credit for, so I am going to pass you to a white sheet and put this behind you.” It was like a blindfold had been taken off and the mental ropes that had tied me up were dissolved and I could speak Japanese plus give the lessons. Were they flawless? No, they weren’t but that was OK. I could bear my testimony and teach effectively. I never looked back.

My Dad has passed away now and I don’t know where the Elder who helped me is anymore, but to both of them, thank you from the bottom of my heart.