To be important again

So, yesterday I got an e-mail from a girl I was co-counselors with at EFY last summer. She’s going on a mission and invited me to her farewell. She said a lot of our EFY kids would be there too.

It kind of freaked me out to hear that I might see those kids again. That all seems so long ago. My life is so different now than it was when I was a counselor. They’re all going to expect to see the same old Counselor Heath that seemed to understand every problem and have every answer. When they see me, are they even going to recognize the new me?

“He’s Peter Pan all right, Captain, he’s just been away from Neverland for so long, his mind’s been ‘junk-tified.’ He’s forgotten everything.”

My life’s not so different now that I’m any less religious than I was then, but being a counselor, or an MTC teacher for that mater, your entire life from 5:30 am til 11:30 pm is all about thinking about those kids, praying for those kids, teaching those kids, worrying about those kids, hoping for the best for those kids, and sometimes even learning from those kids.

My life is so different from that now. Instead of waking up and thinking, “what are my kids going to learn today,” I’m waking up and thinking “what newspapers are my clients going to advertise in today?” My life has turned from concerning myself with the physical, social, and spiritual well being of 10-14 kids to concerning myself with full-page, 60 second, and paid programming advertising rates. My focus was people and now its objects. I used to live in a dorm on the same floor with kids who trusted my every word and believed I could do no wrong, now I live alone in a complex with people so full of distrust that they all look at me as if I were a registered sex offender, just waiting for the second they take their eyes off me so I can kidnap and run off to have my way with their children.

I miss the days of 15-year-old kids opening up to me about doubts they had with their faith, of brand new missionaries with suits so new the tags were still on them who were so desperate to be effective that they took notes of how I said things, even when it was something as simple as me introducing myself. I miss the days when even my very demeanor was being watched and imitated by kids and missionaries who identified me as the kind of person or the kind of missionary they wanted to be.

When I see those kids again, are they still going to think those things about me, even though now in my daily prayers I ask for successful business for the company I work for instead of asking for Penn to feel accepted by his friends, or for Ben to make it through the day without passing out from heat exhaustion again, or for Benson to shut up and listen to the lesson because it will do more good for him than he expects?

One thing that makes me think they will, that they will still see the kind of person they hope to be, is that I’m still trying just as hard as I was then to be the best person I can be. I’m still trying to live life the best way I know how and I’m still asking for God to help me as I do.

As I wrestle with this concern I’m reminded of a picture of Jesus my sister had in hanging on her bedroom wall. It showed Jesus washing his apostles feet and the caption read,

“Its nice to be important, but its more important to be nice.”

And even though I might not be in such an important a position as to work with kids and mold their lives, I’m still doing all those things I told them they needed to do to be happy. And all those things are still the things that make me happy. So I guess, in a way, my life now is proof that I’ve put my money where my mouth is, and that all those things I told them are still true, because they’re still working for me.