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Stories: I Told Them To Close Their Eyes

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I Told Them To Close Their Eyes 04 May 2002
I step off the airplane for the first time in Salt Lake City. I feel extremely nervous. “It’s my first time so far away from home. It’s actually real! I actually am an ordained minister of Christ, a missionary! I can hardly believe it!” I say to my self. The airport is busy and bustling with activity. It’s December 8, 1998, and travelers from all over are leaving and arriving—getting to their families. I spoke with Russell before I left Georgia and I know where he told me to meet him. I walk along looking around and marveling at how homogeneous the people are in Utah. “There is no way that Russell will miss me in this crowd. I stand out,” I think as I arrive at the specified rendezvous. Minutes seem like hours as I wait. “Rodric,” I hear over the crowd. “Rodric, is that you?” I look frantically through the throng and warmth and relief overcome me as I see Russell Sheridan and family hailing me. He baptized me only six years earlier and now I stood before him waiting to do the same to some other fortunate soul. We hurry towards one another and embrace. He holds tightly and I return the embrace as I puzzle at the former Elder Sheridan. He is shorter now. He has little hair. This is not the picture I was expecting. Nevertheless, it is my missionary, I remember the smile I remember the voice. I remember him and tears start to form, but not fall. I know from this point on my life would never be the same. The next day, Russell took me to the M.T.C., Missionary Training Center. I felt so small and insignificant as Russell left me in that large meeting room with tears in his eyes. He seemed so happy that I, his “Golden Contact,” decided to serve the Lord as a missionary. I did not want him to leave. I really discovered how alone I felt when he left. He was the last bit of family I had before turning completely to the mercy of the MTC. With my mind riddled with rumors of what returned missionaries told me about the MTC experience, I prepared for the worst. I thought the people in the MTC would revile me because of my race—based on other rumors I heard about Utah Mormons from Georgia Mormons. I could not have been in more error. As I walked the halls to receive the items for my stay at the MTC, I felt a spirit of good will, but still felt apprehensive. With an orange dork dot attached to my lapel, I received much positive attention. I was astonished by the help I received just with carrying my belongings to my boarding. My district consisted of 12 elders. I was the only non-White. Being from the South, I felt awkward at the situation, and assumed smug attitudes would abound. Boy was I every wrong! Not only did smug attitudes not exist, but also the greatest filial love I could imagine prevailed. After all the elders arrived, we became acquainted. I felt particularly happy about my companion Elder Jenson. I thought of all, I had the best one. I was correct. I needed to overcome some more fear, so I was placed in a situation that I feared most, leadership. I was called as the district leader. Bells went off in my head as I reluctantly accepted the assignment. I felt that since I was the only non-White this would cause some problems. I knew that one of the other elders had his heart set on being the district leader. I stammered a bit as my answer was awaited. My branch president told me, to say yes. I did, and Elder Jensen assured me that all would be well, and that he would support me. He actually became my hero. The elder that wanted to become the District leader cornered me following the call and told me that I only received that assignment because I lacked proper leadership skills. He sat with a disappointed look on his face. He said that he already had leadership skills so he did not need the calling. I felt a bit hurt by his remarks, but instead of insulting him, as I would have in the past, the Spirit led me to say, "Maybe you’re right.” I walked away. His response to the assignment was expected, but not my response to him. For some reason, all I felt more love for him. I expected his sentiment to be mutual throughout the district. I, however, was incorrect. These brethren of mine loved me as before—and even more. That elder eventually warmed to the situation also. Christmas was soon approaching, and packages and letters crowded the MTC. Celebrations and firesides filled the schedules. In our district meeting a special thing occurred as I felt moved upon by the spirit. I spoke and words similar to these came out: “2000 years ago, 12 men sat with the Savior at the last supper and listened to his words. We are 12 elders as they, and we sit here together to also hear his words”. I told them to close their eyes and continued, “Imagine that those 12 are us and that we sit in Christ’s presence hearing his words, and receiving his counsel.” I went on to say more that I cannot write. Suffice it to say tears sprang from a few and the spirit edified us. I told them in the end of that meeting "that is what Christmas is really about." I could feel the love that these brethren had for God, for each other, and for me. As Christmas approached and came, all the elders received gifts and postage from family. I did not. On Christmas day, I felt my spirit decline. I did not get to speak to my parents because as soon as I left for the MTC, they left on Christmas vacation to Miami. It was my first Christmas away from my family. My companion and I went out and returned later that day from an errand. On my desk were almost a dozen gifts from my brethren. Each on of them gave me of the gifts their families had given them. I again felt the love of God in my heart, and the words “that is what Christmas is really about” returned to me. We truly are the hands of Christ. Christmas means to give a gift out of love, as did Heavenly Father in giving his only begotten son. I may have asked my brethren to close their eyes to imagine being with Christ, but they helped me open mine to see He is here with us through our good works. The very next day, Russell took me to the M.T.C., Missionary Training Center. I felt so small and insignificant as Russell left me in that large meeting room with tears in his eyes. He seemed so happy that I, his “Golden Contact,” decided to serve the Lord as a missionary. I did not want him to leave. I really discovered how alone I felt when he left. He was the last bit of family I had before turning completely to the mercy of the MTC. With my mind riddled with rumors of what returned missionaries told me about the MTC experience, I prepared for the worst. I thought the people in the MTC would revile me because of my race—based on other rumors I heard about Utah Mormons from Georgia Mormons. I could not have been in more error. As I walked the halls to receive the items for my stay at the MTC, I felt a spirit of good will, but still felt apprehensive. With an orange dork dot attached to my lapel, I received much positive attention. I was astonished by the help I received just with carrying my belongings to my boarding. My district consisted of 12 elders. I was the only non-White. Being from the South, I felt awkward at the situation, and assumed smug attitudes would abound. Boy was I every wrong! Not only did smug attitudes not exist, but the greatest filial love I could imagine prevailed. After all the elders arrived, we became acquainted. I felt particularly happy about my companion Elder Jenson. I thought of all, I had the best one. I was correct. I needed to overcome some more fear, so I was placed in a situation that I feared most, leadership. I was called as the district leader. Bells went off in my head as I reluctantly accepted the assignment. I felt that since I was the only non-White this would cause some problems. I knew that one of the other elders had his heart set on being the district leader. This elder cornered me following the call and told me that I only received that assignment because I lacked proper leadership skills. He said that he already had leadership skills so he did not need the calling. I felt a bit hurt by his remarks, but instead of insulting him as I would have in the past, the Spirit led me to say "Maybe you’re right.” And I walked away. His response to the assignment was expected, but not my response to him. I expected this to be mutual throughout the district. I, however, was incorrect. These brethren of mine loved me as before and even more. Christmas was soon approaching, and packages and letters crowded the MTC. Celebrations and firesides filled the schedules. In our district meeting a special thing occurred as I felt moved upon by the spirit. I spoke and words similar to these came out: “2000 years ago, 12 men sat with the Savior at the last supper and listened to his words. We are 12 elders as they, and we sit here together to also hear his words”. I told them to close their eyes and continued, “Imagine that those 12 are us and that we sit in Christ’s presence hearing his words, and receiving his counsel.” I went on the say more that I cannot write. Suffice it to say tears sprang from a few and the spirit edified us. I told them in the end of that meeting "that is what Christmas is really about." I could feel that love that these brethren had for God and for me. As Christmas approached and came all the elders received gifts and postage from family. I did not. On Christmas day I felt mighty low. I did not get to speak to my parents because as soon as I left for the MTC, they left on Christmas vacation to Miami. It was my first Christmas away from my family. My companion and I went out and returned later that day from an errand. On my desk were almost a dozen gifts from my brethren. Each on of the gave me of the gifts their families had given them. I again felt the love of God in my heart, and the words “that is what Christmas is really about” returned to me. It is to give a gift out of love as did Heavenly Father in giving his only begotten son. I may have asked my brethren to close their eyes to imagine being with Christ, but they helped me open mine to see in them, He was there all along.
Rodric Anthony Johnson Send Email