Why Not Me?

This year has been a difficult one.  Possibly the most difficult year of my life  Kindra and I have struggled with infertility. I was completely unprepared for how emotionally trying that was going to be. I spent months searching unsuccessfully for a job. And may have had an emotional break down or two as a result. I’ve watched family members and friends have to work through their own challenges, and been forced to realize that I was powerless to help.   A feeling of helplessness has characterized a lot of this year.  But, we’ve marshaled on, and each time I felt I was at the end of my rope, I’ve discovered more rope down below.   

There have been good weeks and there are bad weeks.  Good days and bad days.  Two Sundays ago was a bad day, and after another set back, I found myself asking “Why me?  Why God?  Why me?”  Those aren’t the sorts of questions I like asking, but I was angry and upset, and just wanted to know why I had to pass through this.

But over the past few days, I feel as if my heart has been softened, and my question has changed. Why not? Why not me?  I think around Thanksgiving - and throughout the year really - we often reserve our gratitude for those blessings we have which are above and beyond those things which we feel we deserve.  We set a minimum bar - those blessings we expect - and everything below that bar seems to just fade into the background.  They become furniture.  Place settings.  Scenery.  Things we don’t even notice until they are gone.  And ironically, the more that we have, the more blessed we are, the less blessings we tend to notice.  

Each of us has been served a delicious ice cream sundae, but when we bow our heads, we often thank God for just the cherry on top.

I have been blessed with incredible opportunities.  An incredible wife.  An incredible family.  So again, I ask myself - why not me?  The majority of our Heavenly Father’s children have been born in poverty, in generations without vaccines or air conditioning or refrigeration.  Why not me?  Most of our spiritual brothers and sisters have died illiterate, unable to spell their name, let alone read the Book of Mormon, Harry Potter, or this blog post.  Why not me? Thousands, tens of thousands of Christians are fleeing for their lives right now in the Middle East. Why not me?  Four thousand of my brothers and sisters have died from Ebola in Africa.  Why not me?  Millions of children die every year from poverty, disease, and neglect.  Millions more are abused and cry themselves to sleep at night.  Why. Not. Me?

I have a close friend who’s father was falsely accused by his secretary. He lost his business and spent two years in jail before he was ultimately acquitted.  Why not me?  I have a dear friend in Uruguay who turned to prostitution because she had no money to buy milk for her children.  Why not me?  Why not me?  

Every year in the United States, 5,000 teenagers die in car accidents and 400,000 more are seriously injured.  But when I totaled my car when I was 17 . . . I walked away unscathed.  Why not me?  Why not me? I can't answer that.  None of us can.  But I do know that that I am so blessed in so many ways that I never even acknowledge.  But today, at least, I want that to change.  I want to be more appreciative of the blessings in my life, and the wonderful world in which I live.  So without further adieu, here goes.

First and foremost, I am grateful for the atonement of Christ.  As the Book of Mormon says, every good thing comes from him.  I cannot sing his praises enough.

I am grateful for a beautiful wife who makes me laugh, and holds me when I cry. A woman who believes in me.  A woman who - when I say we’re going to go dig in the dirt for six weeks in Israel - says ok.  I could have never gotten through law school without her, and I am looking forward to having her by my side for decades and eternities to come. 

I am grateful for a wonderful family.  To have always had a roof over my head and food to eat. For a mother who taught me to read, drive, and dive and drove me to baseball and swimming practices, and cooked me sugar pancakes and fruit salad when I turned 16.  For a father who taught me to listen to the Spirit and work hard, and introduced me to skiing, backpacking, and the scriptures.  Who got on a plane week after week to travel for work, so that I wouldn’t have to move while I was in high school.  For siblings who have always been there for me.  For the brother who sent me a leather jacket while he was on his mission because he heard that my girlfriend had broken up with me and invited me to play D&D with his college friends  For the older sister who let me sneak into her room when we were younger, and provided me with an endless supply of butterfingers and eyelashes.  For the younger sister who let me crash in her dorm room and drink Dr. Pepper and watch Family Feud when all of my friends graduated and left me alone at UNC. For a niece and nephew who think I’m a wizard and a superhero, respectively.  Maybe we can convince this new one I’m a decent guy . . .

I suppose this would be a good time to mention my in-laws as well.  I hear horror stories from friends of obnoxious in-laws.  I don’t have that problem.  I couldn’t ask to marry into a better family.

I am grateful for good friends.  The older I get, the more unique my high school experience seems to be.  This year The Club will be celebrating our tenth annual progressive dinner.  I can’t imagine what my life would be like if I had never met Bryan and Nick.  Luke and Tiffany.  Hannah and Nikhil.  Colleen and Dr. Love.  Patrick. Scott. Tim.  The list goes on.  That’s special.

And of course, there’s BJ and Maria. And now Evan. I was really worried that when Evan was born that I’d feel angry or jealous.  Kindra and I had been trying to have kids for about two years, and I worried - had nightmares even - that this kid was going to somehow drive a wedge between the Johnson and the Heilpern households.  But he didn’t.  In fact the day he was born was one of the happiest I’ve felt in law school.  I spent the rest of the day showing friends his picture and was thrilled to have a Hawaiian nephew.  That was a tender mercy if I’ve ever known one.  I can’t say enough about the Johnsons, and how much they mean to me.

And then there my new friends here in Utah.  The Morses.  Daniel Ortner. Jamey Mora. Sarah Jenkins. Claudia Boyd-Shelley. The Porters.  The Priors. The Deans.  The Stallings.  The list goes on.    

I’m grateful for law school.  There.  I said it.  I really am.  I didn’t really want to come to BYU.  I came kicking and screaming because I felt it was the right things to do.  But I have had an amazing experience.  I’m grateful for my professors - D. Gordon Smith, RonNell Andersen Jones, Aaron Nielson, Ryan Tenney, Brigham Daniels, Fred Geddicks, Judge Pead, Justice Lee.  I have been stretched, chewed up, and spit out - and I am better for the wear and tare.  My horizons have been stretched, my vision expanded, and my intellectual abilities fine tuned.  Other than my mission, it has been the most formative and soul-expanding experience of my life.

I am grateful I have a job lined up for after graduation.  Two jobs actually.  It makes 3L year a heck of lot easier.

I am so grateful I had the opportunity to serve a mission in Uruguay.  For the companions I served with and the people I taught.  I am grateful for the people in Fray Bentos who took care of me when I was attacked.  For Hermano Curbello, who came to the hospital to make sure I was alright, even though he was the ward mission leader for the other congregation in town.  For my companion, who took care of me, and made sure I got to the hospital when I was delusional and unconscious.  For the man in the jeep - I don’t even know his name - who stopped and gave us a ride.  For Lila.  For Jose.  For Susy.  For Maria.  The list goes on and on.  I left more than my tooth in Uruguay.  I left a portion of my heart.

I am grateful for electricity.  I’m grateful for the internet.  I’m grateful for indoor plumbing.  I’m grateful for a wonderful apartment, a wonderful ward, and inspired priesthood leaders who encouraged me to focus on my blessings and pray for peace when I was feeling discouraged.  I am grateful to live in a wonderful country, where my passport gets me in the door of any country on Earth (including Saudi Arabia, oddly enough).  Over 75% of the world lives under regimes that restrict religious liberty in one way or another.  My in-laws in Saudi had their sacrament meeting broken up by the religious police.  I don’t have to worry about that in the States.  And that is something to be grateful for, indeed.

I am grateful to live in a country where I really can be anything I want to be.  Most people in the history of the world had to be peasants.  They were farmers.  Maybe blacksmiths, if they’re lucky.  But, in less than five months, I will have two degrees from two of the best universities in the country.  And I will graduate with almost no debt.  I’ve had amazing professors both here at BYU and at UNC.  Learned Spanish, Greek and Hebrew.  Lived in Israel and Uruguay, and visited Brazil, Argentina, Germany, England, Jordan, Saudi Arabia, and Austria - all since starting college.

I am grateful for a talk that Garrett Johnson gave in Sacrament meeting about a year ago today.  He talked about being grateful for our trials.  I’m not sure I understood what he meant then, but I think I am starting to.  I am grateful to be clay in the master’s hands, and if I must face the fire, it is only because he doesn’t want me to stay dirt for very long.  I am grateful for the many times the Lord has rescued me and my family in moments of crisis in the pass.  It makes taking that leap of faith a little easier even if it’s still hard.  He’s caught us in the past, and he will catch us again.  I don’t need to have kids right now, or a job, or anything for that matter to thank him for trusting me enough to allow me to pass through this crucible and emerge on the other side a better man and a little bit more like him.

And as always, I am so grateful for that cement pole . . . that stupid cement pole that totaled my car and saved my life.  I have no idea why it was there . . . but I hope it always is.