All eyes in the choir room were on me. We were given our two choices and had until Friday to decide what we were going to do. It seemed like I was making difficult decisions like this more and more often. But this time my conclusion would impact far more than just myself. My thoughts wandered back to simpler time before I even knew what accountability, high school, or responsibility was.
That day started out like any other. My older brother left for kindergarten so it was just me and my mom. Tuesdays were always busy for mom, she would run around trying to get everything ready for the rest of the week. It was an especially exciting day for me because as she was running around like a crazy person, I got to pick out my own outfit. It’s not that I wasn’t good at picking out my clothes, quite the opposite in fact. My mom just didn’t have the patience for me to spend two hours trying on different clothes so usually my clothes were picked for me. As my mom was frantically scribbling out a grocery list, I finally settled on an outfit for the day, a green shirt with pink flowers and my pink capris. I skipped out to the dinning room to show my mom how cute I looked. She just smiled at me, she wouldn’t admit it until I was older, but my mom was always impressed by my maturity. After others would compliment my mom on my vocabulary, my clothes, or how I presented myself she would always sigh, “Yup my little Kelsie is four going on seventeen.” I never understood what she meant by that; there was a time where I was genuinely concerned I was going to skip thirteen years of my life. But I usually just smiled at the strangers and tried pretending like it didn’t annoy me that my mom was the one receiving my compliments. After about three minutes of skipping, prancing and twirling around my mom she finally managed to say, “You look so pretty hon! My goodness look how well your green shirt matches your favorite capris! Are you ready to go?” I climbed into her lap exhausted from trying to earn that compliment and nodded my head. “Where are we going mommy?” She rattled off a list of boring places but our last destination was Far West.
Far West was a church bookstore in the Tri-Cities, it’s really the only one that we have. Although we didn’t have to run errands there very often, it was my favorite place to go. Grocery shopping took an especially long time, mostly because I knew what waited at the end of our day. “Kelsie! What did I say about holding on to the cart sweetie?” My mom woke me up from my daydream, “Sorry mamma” I replied, and placed my death grip back on the cart. After about three more hours, which really feels like eight when you’re four, we arrived at Far West. Before my mom had the car turned off I was out of my car seat and headed for the door. I could almost hear her rolling her eyes at me. I walked inside with a huge grin and began making my usual rounds.
In the back were huge beautiful paintings of Jesus Christ, although it wasn’t a church and technically I didn’t have to be reverent, I walked around with my arms folded as my dad had taught me. After looking at all of the beautiful paintings I made my way over to the primary kids section. There were action figures of Nephi, Captain Moroni, Mormon and other scripture characters. I thought about asking my mom if I could get one again, but I remembered how horribly my older brother Kolby failed last time and decided against it. I walked past my mom’s favorite section, it was full of boring books with no pictures. I wandered through the primary books and looked for something that I had to have, if my mom were to buy me anything it was going to be a book. After spending a good thirty seconds looking at them, I found one that would end my very existence if I couldn’t own it. I spent twice as long trying to convince my mom that she had the option of forgoing my tragic fate by buying me that book. Apparently she thought her odds were pretty good, because she just shook her head and mumbled something about me being spoiled rotten. However incredibly disappointed, I was not about to let my mom’s refusal spoil the best part about the bookstore, the playroom.
The playroom was amazing, because most days Far West didn’t have more than three people in the store at a time, which meant I could nine times out of ten have a room full of toys all to myself. That day, I was so lucky. Although it was always more fun with my brother to play with, I made the most out of it by climbing up the little tike play set and pretending the floor was lava. It was not nearly as convincing without Kolby’s sound effects so I quickly abandoned that game and went searching through the bins full of toys. There was a sign that said all of the toys were donated from other kids, which really meant that moms went into their kid’s rooms with garbage bags and “dejunkdafied” them. That’s what my mom called it anyway, I shuttered at the thought and continued scrambling through the bins, until I saw her.
She was a little plastic doll, barely bigger than my hand. Without hesitation I named her Molly, she looked beautiful in her green dress, she had long blond hair and blue eyes just like me. She was smiling back up at me when I realized that we were even wearing the same color! I remembered learning a lesson in Primary about signs and figured that this must be one of them. “Come on Lu-Lu it’s time to go.” My mom called out. Quickly I shoved Molly into my pink capris and ran after my mom. The drive home from Kennewick to Pasco took considerably longer than usual, it was as if Molly was trying to sneak out of my pocket and reveal herself to mom. The only thing I had to distract my mind from my new doll was this foreign feeling I had in the bottom of my stomach. Maybe this is how the Nephites felt when they received the star as a sign. Other such justifications for taking Molly ran through my mind. After all, the toys were donated, my mom wouldn’t buy me that book, and I really wanted her. When we finally got home, I ran to our playroom and stashed Molly with my other toys.
The feeling in my stomach didn’t go away, in fact it got a lot worse. In search of an answer as to why my tummy was doing backflips, I decided to confide in my older brother, who was also my best friend. I found Kolby in front of the television watching Gargoyles, one of our favorite cartoon shows. Plopping down next to him, I waited for the commercial break, knowing he wouldn’t speak with me until then. After the show ended he looked at me and asked why I was sad, apparently I wasn’t hiding my emotions very well. I took a deep breath and told my older brother the whole, terrible story from start to finish. As he listened, he simply nodded his head intently and began searching through our toys for something. The sick feeling in my stomach was too much for me to handle and by the time I was done retelling my story my words could barely be understood behind my pitiful sobs. Kolby consoled me as any good big brother would, “It’s OK Kels! Where do ya think I got this toy from?” He held up a toy batman in a purple batmobile. This didn’t make me feel better at all, in fact it made me cry even more. At that moment I realized that what I did was not something God would have wanted, and it certainly wasn’t a sign from Him. Finally I admitted to myself that what I had done was a sin, I stole, and from the church nonetheless. What made matters even worse was that my brother had as well. I cried in my pillow and tried coming to terms with the fact that my brother and I were both going to hell.
The rest of the day I thought about hell, about how hot it was going to be. The only comfort I received was that my brother was going to be down there with me. When I was finally able to wrap my head around my expected fate, I decided that I should break the news to my mom. She was going to be so disappointed that Kolby and I singlehandedly ruined our eternal family. When I went to break the news to her all I could manage to say was, “Mommy, I did something bad.” She pulled me up on her lap and I cried on her shoulder. I didn’t feel worthy of her love anymore. “You couldn’t have done anything that bad baby…what’s the matter.” Little did my mom know that I was a sinner. Instead of trying to cry my way through an explanation again I sulked my way to the playroom and found where I had stashed Molly. All of a sudden she didn’t seem so perfect to me, I avoided her eye contact as I walked back to my mom. Gingerly I placed her in my mom’s hand and stood there sheepishly with my head down. “What’s this Kelsie?” That was all she had to say, my tears of guilt started streaming again. She pulled me onto her lap once more and I started to work my way through my horrible sin. She held me tight and listened patiently as I described in full my transgressions. Apparently she took the news pretty well, because I swear I saw her smile. Her response was simple, “Alright, well I want you to think about what you’ve done a little bit more and we’ll talk about it when your dad gets home.” That was probably the worst punishment she could have given me. I had already been thinking about it all day! My mind couldn’t handle any more ideas about hell and the torments I would have to face there.
My dad was home within the hour and I could hear my parents talk about me in the kitchen, which was just outside of the playroom. He opened the door and stepped inside, I could feel his eyes on me but I couldn’t bring myself to meet his. “Your mom says that you have something you want to tell me Kelsie.” Not again, I was so tired of crying. He got down on the floor and perched himself up on his arm. For the final time, I repeated my story trying not to meet my father’s steady hazel eyes. Although I couldn’t bring myself to break my mom’s heart, my dad was tough and could handle the news, so I told him I knew that I was going to hell for what I did. His response mortified me, it was the worst thing he could have done. I wanted him to yell, scream, spank me, ground me for life, punish me in some way so that I wouldn’t have to face my destined alternative! But he smiled. He smiled, sat up, and pulled me into his arms. I sobbed in his embrace, trying to figure out what his smile meant and why my parents were being so nice to me about this horrible thing I’d done. Surely they’d be upset about the news of my eternal fate! He finally pulled me away, looked deep into my blues eyes, puffy from crying and said, “Welp, Kelsie-Lu you have two choices dear. One, you can go and return the doll to the playroom or two, you can give her back to the store owner and tell them what you did.” My heart was racing, did that mean I had an alternative to an eternity of despair? I could tell by my dad’s voice inclination that he wanted me to pick the second option and tell the owner I stole Molly. After quickly weighing the pros and cons between the two options, I decided that although it would disappoint my dad, I replied by saying, “I just want to put her back where I found her daddy.” I couldn’t approach the owner, it was hard enough telling my parents about Molly. They would always love me, regardless of my thievery but that didn’t mean anyone else would. “Kelsie, you know the right thing to do would be to tell the owner the truth right?” I simply nodded. “I won’t force you to do anything babe, but I want you to think about it.” He climbed up and left me to my thoughts. I put Molly up on my bookshelf, not to be touched until it was time to give her back.
The next day I ran out to my mom and asked her if we were going to Far West. She responded with, “No sweetie we went yesterday.” The guilt was more than I could handle. Having Molly look at me from the bookshelf every night was unbearable, I had to move her to face the wall so I could sleep at nights. I made a routine out of daily asking my mom if I could return the doll, until one day she finally gave me an exasperated, “Sure, we’ll go to Far West today.” I threw on the first thing I could find, grabbed Molly and ran out to the car. My mom climbed in the driver seat, looked at me sitting behind her and said, “Cute outfit Kels.” Although I was only four I knew sarcasm when I heard it, but I didn’t even care how I looked, I was just eager for my stomach to stop doing backflips.
We got to the store and I quickly realized that sneaking a toy into a store is way harder than sneaking one out. I skipped my routine rounds and tiptoed to the playroom. I put my toes at the edge of the carpet outside of the door and purposefully threw Molly into the lava. Then I just stared at her from a distance and realized the pain I went through could never be worth owning her. With a great sigh of relief I headed back out to the car where my mom was waiting for me. For some reason I decided to take the back way out which led me through the paintings of Christ. Looking up I saw a new one. It was a huge picture of Jesus surrounded by children and on his lap was a little girl with blond hair and blue eyes. He was looking down at her with a smile and all of a sudden the knot in my stomach was completely gone. Not only was the sick feeling gone, but it was replaced with warmth, and love. It was the same feeling I got when my parents hugged me tight and wouldn’t let go, but ten times as strong. With this new found understanding of my Savior’s love for me I walked to the front of the store and found the store owner staring down at me. “Something you need sweetie?” My mouth opened but the words I was screaming in my head wouldn’t come out. I wanted so badly to have the courage to tell her what I had done, why I did it, and most importantly what I had learned. Instead I shut my mouth, convinced that the words I was yearning to say weren’t coming, shook my head and went outside to find my mom.
“Kelsie! Let go of the cart! I can barely steer with your iron grip on it.” My mom’s complaint woke me up from my flashback. “Oh, sorry mom…habit I guess.” I had agreed to go grocery shopping with my mom, hoping to get my mind off of the decision others were waiting on. I couldn’t help notice the similarities between myself and that little girl fourteen years earlier. It was as if my mouth was still open, ready to share with everyone all that was on my mind but, just like that four year old little girl, I hadn’t yet found the strength to do so.
Playing sports, only having three classes a day, partying every weekend and overall just ruling the school was my friends’ idea of senior year. Mine couldn’t be more opposite. My day started off at six fifty in the morning with my two auditioned choirs and from there I went to seminary. After seminary, I went to my community college where I was struggling to earn my Associates degree by the time I graduated. After my three classes there I came back to the high school for my Spanish class and then finished the day with volleyball practice. Although some days I had to go back to the college to work out for an hour to earn my PE credit, most nights I was home by six. On top of my hectic schedule I was the Young Women president in my ward, section leader of the altos in choir, but what brought me the most stress was being the seminary president of our whole high school. My friends liked teasing me about being a “bookworm”, “square”, “teacher’s pet”, or the most often used “over achiever” I had heard it all. There’s no doubt I was busy, but I always managed to find time to have fun and enjoy my senior year; maybe not to the extent of most of my class, but it was enough for me.
My choir teacher Mr. Haug offered to take his chamber choir, Encore on a trip that was sure to be the high light of our senior year. It would include choir exchanges with other high schools in the northwest, a trip to Silverwood Theme Park, hikes in Montana and going to Triple Play. All of us were ecstatic about the trip and begged Mr. Haug to read us the itinerary. He went through each day in great detail, getting us all even more excited about going. Although it was all going to be a blast, the most fun day was sure to be when we went to Triple Play. Mr. Haug described it to us as Heaven for high schoolers. There was a go-cart track, a bowling alley, an indoor pool equipped with water slides, laser tag and a gym for playing about any sport imaginable. After his lengthy description, the choir room buzzed with excitement. We weren’t going to have a choir exchange that day, which meant that we got to spend the whole day with one another. No pretending to enjoy second rate choirs, no making acquaintances with other students just to forget their names two minutes later, just spending time with friends that we’ve known from elementary school and at Triple Play nonetheless.
“There is one problem though” the room went silent after Mr. Haug’s statement. How could there be a problem, he just described every high school student’s dream; having an excused absence to skip school and spend the whole day with your friends. Mr. Haug answered our confused faces in saying, “The only day we’d be able to go to Triple Play is on a Sunday, and I know that might be a problem for our LDS students.” I glanced around the classroom, immediately I had LDS friends who shrugged it off, insisting that it would be fine to skip church, others looked down at their lap and everyone else in our choir room Mormon or not, was looking at me. I simply nodded my head and waited for the attention surrounding me to disperse. “We can’t afford to lose too many voices on this trip or we won’t be able to go.” This was Mr. Haug’s polite way of saying, if the Mormons don’t go than neither can the rest of us. Instantly sixty pairs of eyes shot up at me, my face went flush as he continued. “I’ll let you guys think about it, but I need an answer by Friday.”
The following two days leading up to Friday, I had a different person at my heels going on and on about why I should go and how I would convince all of the other LDS students to come as well. If it wasn’t a choir member coaching me through how to get all fourteen of our Mormon students to come on the trip, then it was an LDS choir member asking me what I planned on doing. They looked up to me, not just the LDS students, but the rest of the choir. Not only was I a section leader, but I had proven my worth every year as I was awarded the director’s choice award twice, outstanding alto and outstanding sophomore. Of course I knew the correct answer was to stay home and keep the Sabbath day holy as we are commanded. But it was more difficult than that. Our whole choir depended on us, and like a pack of monkeys, what I chose to do would determine what many of the other LDS students did.
On my way home that night I found myself thinking, we would be singing gospel songs, it’d only be one Sunday, some of my other LDS friends are going; I had to stop myself from rationalizing, I learned thirteen years earlier that such behavior only led to sick feeling tummies. Deep in thought I walked into my house and caught the aroma of that night’s dinner. Plopping into my seat at the dinner table my parents exchanged confused glances, plopping wasn’t a regular occurrence of mine. “What’s up Kels?” my mom asked. After a heavy sigh I explained my dilemma to my family over dinner. Laughter filled the dining room as Kolby was the first to respond, “Well what’s the problem? You get to skip school for four days, go to Silverwood, hike in Montana, go to Triple Play AND your friends are all waiting for your OK on the matter. Looks like the world’s revolving around you Kels, just the way you like it!” He shoveled a spoonful of mashed potatoes in his mouth, “Thanks Kolby you’ve always been so helpful” I glared. He responded with his cheeks full of food and what I think was a smug smile. My only retort was directed toward my parents, “Did you know Kolby stole a toy batman?” Six confused stares responded to my comeback “Never mind” I said. “Welp, Kelsie-Lu you have two choices dear…” I was hanging on to my dad’s every word, waiting for him to tell me what to do like he did so many years before. He continued by saying, “except this time, you know what they are.” After clearing my plate I headed down to my room for some space to think.
It was Thursday night and Mr. Haug expected our answer, or rather my answer the next morning. My phone was constantly vibrating with texts from choir members, I turned it to silent, laid on my bed and started setting my volleyball against the wall. Why did this decision have to fall on me, my volleyball hit the wall and made a thump. Being a good example and living up to my callings was important, thump, but so was being a leader in the choir, thump, thump. Why was I all alone in this, thump. That’s when I caught my ball, jolted up and realized what I had just said. I was never alone in anything, I had my Savior whose infinite love for me was made aware at a young age. Dropping to my knees I offered a prayer, it seemed silly to be praying about going on a choir trip, and yet to many, it also seemed silly to return a ten cent doll. After my prayer I sat back on my bed, waiting, listening, pondering on what I should do. Then clear as day, the answer came to me. Quickly I got online and found what city we would be in on Sunday, I then found the closest church building and their meeting times. The rest of the night was spent on the phone, arranging rides, getting various approvals, and finding directions to and from the church. At about ten o’clock I had come up with a plan to go on the choir trip and keep the Sabbath day holy.
The next morning the choir room was full of whispers, “What did the Mormon’s decide?” “Did Kelsie text you back last night?” “It wouldn’t be as much fun if they didn’t come.” I didn’t know the owners of the voices, I just sat in my chair excited to share my idea. “Alright guys, what did you decide” Mr. Haug said “guys”, and yet he was looking directly at me. After telling him about my idea and going into great detail about my length of preparation he simply smiled and said, “Well looks like you’ve got it all figured out then.” Just like that the issue was dismissed and I no longer had choir members tripping me at my heels.
The day of the trip finally arrived and it was even more fun than we imagined it would be. We even found ourselves enjoying the other choirs. When Sunday arrived I was surprised to see how many of my LDS friends backed out of the plans I made and stayed at Triple Play. The go-kart track was more than most of them could handle. We didn’t have anything like that in the Tri-Cities and the karts could get up to thirty miles an hour. Although the temptation was there to stay, me and four other friends climbed into Sister Merrill’s suburban and went to church. After the service was over we came back to find that the fun our friends were having served as a distraction to our absence. I’m not sure what we were expecting, maybe a huge banner to say, “Congrats! You made the right call!!” or maybe just a pat on the back. But I found that the blessings of that decision didn’t come until later in my life. The following Sunday I was blessed when Sister Roher came up to me telling me that she’d received an email from a friend back in the ward we visited the previous week. It turns out that he had been our Sunday school teacher and felt impressed to share his appreciation with the youth in Pasco, Washington. He went on to tell her that if we were a reflection of the youth in Pasco that he would consider moving to the Tri-Cities to have his kids raised there. After telling me that story Sister Roher gave me a hug, and told me how proud she was of me and my example. In college I’ve been blessed to receive letters from my friends who are now on missions, thanking me for my example that day and telling me how they wish they’d had the strength to come along.
There’s no doubt I’ve come a long way since I was that scared four year old little girl. And yet, the simple lessons I learned from her will always be a guide in how I make decisions. I have the ability to make difficult choices, because my savior has a never ending love for me and will never leave me alone.
