While I was on my study abroad I had the opportunity to
attend Shakespeare’s play Measure for Measure. It was one I had never read nor
watched before and I was struck by one quote in which Lucio comes to tell
Isabella that her brother is imprisoned and sentenced to death and that perhaps
she can persuade the Duke to pardon her brother’s sentence. When she doubts her
ability to do so, Lucio persuades her, saying, “Our doubts are traitors, and
make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt.”
It made me think of this past spring when I applied to
intern for the Ensign magazine and the first information meeting I went to
where I looked around at a room full of well-qualified applicants and, thinking
I didn’t have a chance against one of them, almost got up and left.
I stuck through the meeting, but when I left I tucked the
application in the back pocket of my folder, and while I can’t say I forgot
about it, I didn’t do much with it either. Finally, after about a week of
indecision I decided to apply, only to find out in my editing class that
morning that due to a confusion on my part, I had missed the deadline.
Sometimes you don’t realize how much you want something
until it’s out of your grasp. And I was beginning to realize, as I struggled to
hide tears, that this was something I really wanted. By the time my friend Sarah
arrived I had lost the battle with my composure and we went to a small, unused
classroom nearby where she in her wisdom suggested we pray.
I had been so afraid to email the Ensign and ask for an
application extension because I didn’t want to start off the application
process which such a low mark, but I got off my knees determined to do so.
It wasn’t the first time a prayer had put me on this path.
Backing up a couple months, I was trying to decide what position to apply for
in my capstone editing class. The class would be producing a travel magazine
and we each had to apply for a staff position. I was trying to decide whether
or not to apply for managing editor and once again, I thought, there’s no way,
and even if I got the position, how would I fulfill it?
The evening before the application was due my ministering
brother, Matt, came over. We talked for a bit and then when he was getting
ready to leave he asked me if he could leave me with a prayer. He asked whether
there was anything specific he should pray for and I told him about the
decision I had to make. During his prayer the answer was clear: I needed to
apply.
Applying for and receiving the position of managing editor
may have been the best thing I did in terms of preparing me for an internship
with the Ensign. If nothing else it gave me some of that confidence I lacked.
It also proved a great addition to my resume and gave me something to talk
about in my interview, along with my job in which I researched and wrote
articles for a religion professor at BYU.
That job came about by way of a disappointment that proved a
tremendous blessing. I had been applying to the religious studies center to be
a staff editor for their publications. I made it through the editing tests and
interview and a few days later received a phone call. I had been one of the
final two candidates for the position. They had gone with the other candidate.
But, I was told by the hiring manager on the other end of the phone, my
application was strong enough that he had taken the liberty of sending it out
to the religious education faculty to see if they needed an assistant.
Though flattered, I was still rather disappointed.
Within a matter of hours, however, I received an email from
one of the religious education professors, Sister Woodger. She wanted to
interview.
Five minutes into the interview, I had a job.
I started out transcribing, then substantive editing, then
copy, and finally writing. I helped write a chapter for her book on the
beatitudes, then sections on her book on significant Church artifacts,
finishing with a lengthy research paper on a notable figure in Church history.
In the meantime, I had decided to take a class on Christ and
the Everlasting Gospel. It wasn’t necessary—I’d fulfilled the required credits
for religious studies already—but had decided it couldn’t be a bad thing.
Between my work for Sister Woodger and the journals and write-ups we were
required to do weekly for my religion class, I had all I needed to draw on to
compile my portfolio for the Ensign
application—something I certainly wouldn’t have found time to do otherwise.
The Ensign replied to my request for a deadline extension
and in one afternoon, after returning home late from my ski class, I took the
required spelling and editing tests, wrote some short essays of intent, and
sent it all in.
Then came the waiting. I waited. And waited. And waited. It
felt like eternity.
At last the call came in. I’d gotten the position. I was
ecstatic!
But the story doesn’t end there.
Maybe you are familiar with the imposter syndrome. In late
July it began to hit hard. I wouldn’t start for another month and a half, but
just thinking about it I began to worry that they had picked the wrong
candidate and that I would never be able to deliver on their expectations.
At the time I was on a study abroad trip in the British
Isles and Ireland. We were in a beautiful coastal town in Wales (Llandudno)
when I decided to go for a long walk up to the tops of some of the nearby
seaside cliffs. It was early evening, but it was one of those long summer
evenings where the sun seems to be merely in the act of setting long into the
night.
Except for the sheep and some occasional mountain goats (and
the hundreds of large slugs) I was alone. I took the opportunity to tell God
how nervous I was starting to feel about my upcoming internship. I also told
him that I still had no idea what I wanted to do when I graduated and that that
was starting to worry me at least a little.
The breeze off the ocean had been sweeping up over the
cliffs and hills quite rapturously, but the moment I prayed, the wind stopped
and it was silent. I got up, and walked back to our hostel.
The next day was Sunday. We attended church in a small
building with an even smaller congregation and when one of the speaker’s called
in sick, one of our professors was asked to fill in. He shared how inadequate
he feels at the start of each school year and how inadequate he felt when he
started his Phd program.
He had taken a long break between his masters and Phd and
his Phd program was a different subject area from his masters. When he came
back from one of his classes having understood very little, his office mate
asked him what was wrong and then remarked, “The faculty in this program know
you. They saw your application. They interviewed you. They brought you here.
They trust you to succeed.”
When my professor shared that I knew it was the answer to my
prayer. I just hadn’t expected it to come so quickly! It was just what I’d
needed to hear.
Afterward, I thanked him for his talk and he talked to me
more about the internship (he had worked for the Church before and had a number
of students work there as well) and I felt much more at peace about it.
While I had been up on the cliffs in Llandudno praying I’d
had a very clear thought: God did not get you this far to let you fail.
If there is anything more certain than my not failing, it’s
that God got me here. Just a few days ago while I was packing things up to move
apartments I came across a small stack of papers: applications for the Ensign
internship from as far back as my Sophmore year—all of them untouched. I’m so
grateful that God finally helped me find the courage to apply.
I’m still nervous. But I am so excited to start this next adventure.
All I can think of now is a quote that has sat on my desk for the past four
years: What if I fall? Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?
