Choose Faith

A Few Degrees & The Power To Choose

I believe that faith is a choice. Putting faith into action is something I think we assume we will choose when the time comes to do so; however, unless we have prepared ourselves with a solid foundation, choosing faith can be more difficult than we realize. Everyday we are faced with choices. Sometimes a single choice can swing the pendulum of our lives in drastic directions; however, most of the time it is the small decisions that can amount to big course changes in our lives.

President Uchtdorf said, "The difference between happiness and misery...often comes down to an error of only a few degrees." He further stated that, "Small errors and minor drifts away from the doctrine of the gospel of Jesus Christ can bring sorrowful consequences into our lives. It is therefore of critical importance that we become self-disciplined enough to make early decisive corrections to get back on the right track and not wait or hope that errors will somehow correct themselves." 

I have been thinking about the "few degrees" in our lives and their significance. It is not easy to see how small seemingly insignificant decisions can change the course of our lives. It is easy to rationalize small indiscretions. We can convince ourselves that because they seem so "minor", they can't possibly make that big of a difference. Elder Uchtdorf shared a story of a jet veering off course by only a few degrees, and due to that course change came to a tragic end. He said:

"In 1979 a large passenger jet with 257 people on board left New Zealand for a sightseeing flight to Antarctica and back. Unknown to the pilots, however, someone had modified the flight coordinates by a mere two degrees. This error placed the aircraft 28 miles (45 km) to the east of where the pilots assumed they were. As they approached Antarctica, the pilots descended to a lower altitude to give the passengers a better look at the landscape. Although both were experienced pilots, neither had made this particular flight before, and they had no way of knowing that the incorrect coordinates had placed them directly in the path of Mount Erebus, an active volcano that rises from the frozen landscape to a height of more than 12,000 feet (3,700 m).

As the pilots flew onward, the white of the snow and ice covering the volcano blended with the white of the clouds above, making it appear as though they were flying over flat ground. By the time the instruments sounded the warning that the ground was rising fast toward them, it was too late. The airplane crashed into the side of the volcano, killing everyone on board.

It was a terrible tragedy brought on by a minor error—a matter of only a few degrees."

My daughter, Hailey, plays competitive soccer--playing competitive soccer has become a matter of a few degrees for us. Competitive teams often play on Sunday. There are two teams with her age group--the Premier Team and the Nero team. The Premier team is considered to be the "best" team, while the Nero team is a step down. Because Hailey chooses to NOT play on Sunday, she has been placed on the Nero team. She has often expressed a desire to play with Premier--feeling that the higher level of play would help her overall abilities as a soccer player.

A few weeks ago she was invited to play in the State Cup with the Premier team--a desire she has had for a long time--however; in order to play, she had to commit to playing on Sunday. With no hesitation, she declined. Instead of playing in the state cup with the Premier Team, Hailey chose to play in the Directors Cup with the Nero team. Thinking that her struggle with Sunday play was behind her, she faced the Directors Cup with excitement; however, the Directors Cup proved to be another test on whether or not she would play on Sunday.

Hailey's Nero team usually has more than enough subs; however, due to injury, and Hailey's choice to not play on Sunday--her team had no subs for the Sunday tournament games. Normally, her team didn't question her decision about Sunday play; however, this time Hailey received many comments. Many of her teammates could not understand how she couldn't be there for them during the tournament. She had several girls beg her to make an exception. And although Hailey wanted to cave, she did not. On the way to church, she confessed that it was "so hard...so very hard to not play". She confessed that sometimes she wondered if it would make that much of a difference... I listened to her talk. We both cried a little. At end of our conversation, I asked her what gave her the strength to go to church rather than play the game she loved. Her response: "I have a testimony. I know that God wants me to go to church and place Him first. And I love Him more than soccer." She then pointed to the heavens and with a laugh in her voice said, "I hope He's watching." 

There are times when we wonder about the importance of her decision to not play on Sunday. Will it be the few degrees that can change the course of her life? In the end, we always agree that it will. As she trusts in God, and keeps His commandments, a change is and will continue happening in her heart. She is solidifying within herself to choose God over the world, and she is placing herself on a course for eternal happiness in the life to come. I believe that these small decisions or degrees--as Elder Utchdorf stated--will amount to making all the difference. 

Compassion

OUR BAPTISMAL COVENANTS & COMPASSION

A friend of mine is teaching a lesson in a few weeks, and felt impressed to ask me my thoughts on compassion. This is what I wrote:

When I think about compassion, I think of the Savior's love. When we have compassion, we care about someone else the way the Savior would. We put aside our selfishness, and we open our hearts to love someone else. I wish I had a fantastic story about how compassion has changed my life. I am positive it has. I just haven't taken note of it as I should. This past year, I have often prayed for a teacher to have compassion on my son. I keep thinking that if someone would only care enough...then it would make all the difference. You see--Jake struggles in school. He doesn't struggle enough where there needs to be some big intervention--he just struggles in little ways. Those little ways are slowly pushing him further and further behind. I have often prayed for a teacher that would care enough to love my son. I am grateful for this perspective because I think it reminds me to care "enough" about those around me. It is a reminder to me to love. 

I'm reminded of compassion when I think of Hailey's soccer team this year:

There have been a lot of life lessons this year with soccer. Bryan decided to coach this year, so this group of girls could stay together for another two seasons. They are a rock solid team. When they are playing to their ability, they are truly unstoppable--their passes and shots are precise, and they work together as a fluid team. For the entire season, Revolution (Hailey's and Bryan's team name) remained the number 1 team. However, their winning streak slowed after having a two week bye. Just before tournament they lost two games, which put them in 2nd place entering the tournament.  In 2nd place, the road to the championship game was more difficult. In order to make it to the championship, these girls would have to play Thursday night, Friday night, & Saturday morning.  Both Thursday and Friday were strong games for the girls. They beat their opponents 6-0, and then 7-0. 

On Saturday morning, Revolution was ready to enter the semi-finals.The girls outplayed Reign; however, the end score didn't show the results of their labors--they lost in the semi-finals. All 13 girls gathered as a team to discuss the end to their season. Tears rolled down their cheeks as they looked to my husband for reassurance. (This is where my heartstrings pulled just a bit, and where I feel Bryan demonstrated compassion.) As Bryan looked at their tear-stained faces, his voice cracked with emotion when he proclaimed, "This one is on me girls. This one is on me. Don't you dare blame yourselves. Blame me." Bryan later recounted that his heart ached as he saw the girl's disappointment. He understood their disappointment, because he felt it too. He just didn't want them walking away being disappointed in themselves. After all, they had played their hearts out, and they had had an amazing season. For these girls, it was more than just a game. These girls had put it all on the line. They put their whole hearts and souls into the game. Somehow Bryan had to reassure them that it was enough. It was his job as a coach--he had to remind them that losing a game did not define a player.  And that's exactly what he did. He knelt down and talked with them. He talked with them as a whole group--pointing out their moments of success; and then he talked to them individually--calling out individual successes of each and every player. He let them know that he was proud of them, and he then gave them hope to come out even stronger the following season. Each girl looked to him for strength, and he delivered. This was a lesson about hard work and disappointment. It was a life lesson. Sometimes in life, we don't get to choose the outcome of our situations. When this happens, there is always a silver lining--we just have to be willing to find it, and a little bit of compassion a long the way makes the search all the better.

I think this story demonstrates that when we have compassion we truly care about the people around us. We don't simply go through the motions, but we care--we love. 

Last week Amber played in sacrament meeting for the primary program. She was playing while the other girls her age were singing. She played most of the song with no hiccups; however, toward the end of the song--she slipped, and struggled to find her fingering again on the piano. She didn't quite find her place, but she kept going--she kept playing. When the song was finally over, Amber was extremely disappointed. For the rest of the meeting she cried. Bryan and I kept trying to encourage her from afar; however, there was no consoling her. When the program was over, she ran to my side and buried her head in my shoulder. As her little frame shook with disappointment, I reassured her that she did a great job, and that I was proud of her. My eyes filled with tears, and soon both Amber and I were crying on each other's shoulders. She looked up at me, and said, "Mom, if you think I did such a great job, then why are you crying?" I looked back at her, and said, "My heart hurts for you--you are sad, and that make me sad." I truly did think she did a great job. I was proud of her; however, just as Bryan loved his soccer girls, and his heart broke for their disappointment--my heart broke for Amber's disappointment.

  I was filled with compassion towards her. I truly cared about how she was feeling. However, the compassion didn't end with my tears. As Amber and I were deep in conversation, several ward members began approaching Amber to offer her words of encouragement. In fact, we were overwhelmed by the support offered by our ward--hugs were given, encouragement was offered, and by the end of that day--Amber felt reassured and confident. I attribute that confidence to the compassion of our ward members--for seeing a child in need of some love, and offering it to her. 

Isn't that what we promise in our baptismal covenant? Don't we promise to mourn with those that mourn? Comfort those that stand in need of comfort? 

I guess I think compassion means that we live up to our baptismal covenants. We love those around us--we truly love them--just like the Savior would do.