Church Journal

One night at EFY—and I don’t remember if it was the first time I went to EFY or the second,--we were all in a big auditorium type room getting ready to hear John Bytheway. I had never heard him before. Actually, I had never even heard of him before. Can you imagine that? I’m sure my life had been extremely flat up to that point, not having heard John Bytheway speak.

I was in the front row. No idea how that happened, we must have been early, I guess. I was sitting there with my fancy little book. It was hard back, had a nice cover on it, and it was full of blank pages. A journal, really. It was a journal I lovingly referred to as “The Small Plates.” My small plates, the journal I took to church, and to places like really awesome EFY talks by really awesome speakers like John Bytheway. I had it ready to go, open to the next blank page.

Some older guy came up and sat on the edge of the stage right in front of me, and started talking to us. I really, really, really wish I had known at the time that it was John Bytheway, and I really, really, REALLY wish I had known what I know now, because if I had I would have had him put his John Hancock right there on the inside cover of my small plates. Because honestly—that would have been so cool. As it was, I had no idea, so I sat there like the socially awkward, strange teenager that I was. He took a look at my book and asked me what it was, and I told him it was my church journal. Just a book where I took my spiritual notes. Not really a big deal.

A minute or two later, the lights dimmed and we all got ready for the show. Ok, it was a talk, but with John Bytheway I think it’s safe to say it was a show. I mean, I don’t really even remember what he talked about that night, but I can guarantee there was a lot of laughter.

Fast forward 25 years or so. I’m in the car, on a road trip, listening to talks on tape with my family, and we’re listening to John Bytheway. All the sudden, he tells this story about how one time he was giving a talk, and he saw a girl with a book and asked her what it was, and she responded, “It’s my church journal.” He kind of used a valley girl teenager voice when he said that, which was silly, but my eyes got big and I remembered that night that I had never thought of since…well, that night. But there it was. Right there on his tape, he was talking about me! So funny!

Sometimes it’s these odd, unexpected things in life that just make it fun. My kids really get a kick out of knowing that it was me. The rest of the world may never know, but my kids love it.

Walk With Me

There I was at EFY, kind of in heaven, because they had announced a poetry contest. And I wrote poetry. I could rhyme like the best of them! (Looking back, I was probably writing more verse than real poetry, but hey. It worked for me. And lots of people loved the things I wrote, so that’s all I cared about).  

I knew that I just had to enter the contest. The theme was Walk With Me. I thought about it and thought about it. I sat down at the desk in the dorm room, and I thought and attempted some lines. I crossed out what I had written and started over so many times it was just crazy. Where was my poem? I knew there was one, I just needed to pull it out of myself.

That night in my prayers I asked (probably begged, I was a teenager, after all) Heavenly Father to help me find my poem. Then I asked him to help me write his poem. It would be his, after all. And then I went to bed, with hopes for better writing tomorrow.

In the middle of the night I woke up. To this day I can still remember getting out of bed and sitting at that desk. The lamp was on, the world was quiet. I was probably still half asleep. But I sat there and the words just flowed out of the pen like nothing else I had ever experienced. Almost 30 years later I can still remember that night, crystal clear.

The next morning I got up, and having remembered writing in the middle of the night, I went to the desk and read the paper. It was by far the best poem I had ever written. Hands down. I wrote out a nice copy and turned it in to the contest that day.  My name was listed as the author, but there has never been any doubt in my mind that it was Heavenly Father’s poem. It was an experience I will never, ever forget.

Do I even need to say it? That poem won first place. To this day, that was one of the coolest experiences in my entire life.

EFY

I grew up in a really great stake in Turlock, California. We were blessed as youth to have fantastic leaders, and an amazing seminary program.

One year, some of the kids were going to go to EFY (Especially For Youth) at BYU in Provo, UT. Somehow it turned in to a giant youth activity. Not a formal one, because EFY was $250 per student, and it was two states away. But they organized it so that anyone in the two wards in our town who wanted to go could sign up for the same session, and then all go together. There were a couple of adults driving. I ended up in the Wheeler’s RV with a whole ton of other kids. We drove and drove and drove, and we stayed at a KOA camp the night before registration at BYU.

In the morning, we all piled in to the RV and were dropped off. One of those funny little snatches of memory I have from that morning was that the guy who was registering me looked at my information, and said, in a very normal way, “Oh, you’re from California.” And then he said, in a very “surfer” way, “totally tubular, dude!” Like he was a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle or something.  I just mentally rolled my eyes—as if all people from California talked that way. Ha! He must have never heard of the Central Valley part of California. The part with all the cows and orchards and stuff. Oh well.

We stayed in the dorms, and I shared a room with Melanie Reed. I remember my counselor—I can see what she looks like as clear as day in my mind, but I can’t remember her name. Kathy?  Her last name was Bowen. And she was great!



Here is our group. Melanie Reed is on the far left in the front row, and I am in the blue flowery skirt in the front row.

Our group was paired with two other groups, and together we were a “kingdom.” We had to come up with a name for our kingdom, and I don’t remember whose idea it was (it could have even been my idea, for all I know), but we named ourselves the FUNGI kingdom. Oh my, does that sound awful! FUNGI?  It was funny though, and we had a great time with it. When it came time for our group to do a skit that we would perform in front of the entire EFY, we did a series of  “Green Fungi” commercials, patterned after the “Grey Poupon” mustard commercials from TV. Looking back on it—oh my. But we were creative, and a lot of people liked what we did, so it was actually cool.

I remember that Donny Osmond’s nephew was in my kingdom. Don’t ask me what his name is. Maybe if I blow the dust off my old journals it’s written in there.  I also remember there was some kid named Richie, with blonde hair and blue eyes, that hung out with me and was super nice. We ended up being great friends at EFY. And then of course, never talked to each other again after that week. I’m sure I had a strange crush on him. It was a good time.

I remember listening to Troy Dunn, Brad Wilcox, Art Berg, of course John Bytheway, and a whole lot of other really great speakers. I remember there was a talent show—I dreamed of singing an amazing solo in front of all of EFY, but I totally didn’t do it. I could sing ok, but it was nothing I was known for. But I sang in the shower all the time, and I thought I was pretty good. wink wink.

I remember the dances. I remember the field games we played outside—huge fields filled with massive amounts of youth. It was just crazy awesome. I remember the closing banquet, and the fancy dance at the end.

One of the best parts was that they had a poetry contest, where you had to write a poem based on the theme of EFY, which was “Walk With Me.” That one deserves its own post.

EFY was truly one of the coolest experiences of my entire growing up. It was fun. I learned and grew a lot there. I’m grateful to my parents for figuring out how to get the money to send me, and to the other youth and the parents who made it possible for so many of us from Turlock to go.

These pictures are all I have from the second year. The second year I got to share a dorm room with Celeste. This is me at the banquet in a picture with Mondo, who was one of the boys' counselors.

And this is me with my counselor for that year. I think her name was Angela, but I really don't remember.