Edited from a "journal entry" that I wrote in a Word document at the time, and named for Celtic Woman's rendition of "You Raise Me Up", which I listened to a hundred times and clung to like an iron rod during this incident.
He Raised Me Up
By C. Randall Nicholson
Early September 2012
My heart felt as though it were trapped in a vise, and every time I contemplated the task ahead of me I felt that death would be a welcome alternative. You see, I had to go to the Admissions office to get Utah residency, and presumably talk to the people there in the process. Old people, most likely, who would be scrutinizing me and my qualifications or lack thereof. I didn't know if I could handle that. Oh, and if I failed to get residency my scholarship would no longer cover all of my tuition and I'd be sunk.
I was utterly miserable. It had to be done today or there would be dire consequences. Maybe there would be anyway, but there would be for sure if I did nothing. The knowledge that once I'd done it the stress would be gone, it would be over and I could spend my Friday evening watching a sci-fi movie from the library was the only thing that gave me any peace. But it wasn't enough peace, not nearly enough. I wished I could do something easier, like maybe walking through the jaws of hell. That particular verse about Joseph Smith in jail ran through my mind more than a few times. "My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment. And then, if thou endure it well God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes."
I said a prayer; a rare vocal prayer on my knees. I regretted that it had to be short because of the time constraint, but I'd spent hours over the last few weeks praying on this subject anyway. I hoped it would be enough, and I worried that my hoping it would be enough signified a lack of faith on my part. God knew what I wanted, He knew what I needed, and He knew what He was going to give me. There wasn't some invisible threshold of prayer numbers and intensity that I had to cross to prove my worthiness. But I couldn't help feeling like there was.
So I started out, keeping a brisk and steady pace and not giving myself time to think too deeply about what I was getting into. I realized that sometimes you just have to do something that sucks, without the benefit of intervention to make it suck less. God never said that things would look hard leading up to them and then get easy as soon as you actually do them. Of course, there was no reason why this shouldn't be easy. No reason why I shouldn't have been able to do it months ago. No reason, except that my mind was diseased and my emotions reflected that.
As I was walking along I decided to play hymns in my head. To make a long story short, it worked, and the fear all but vanished, leaving me empty as I trekked to the Admissions office. "The Spirit of God" was the first one I did. Its majestic tone was perfect for inspiring me with boldness and imagining angels at my back. In reality, there easily could have been, so I like to think there were, probably grumbling silently about getting such a stupid assignment. I had to hold back on the singing skills of the imaginary singers in my head, though, because I found myself tearing up a little and I didn't want that going on when I arrived.
I instantly relaxed when I went in and saw a girl my age rather than an older woman who would be scrutinizing and judging me for my procrastination. I handed over the box of receipts, library checkout slips, contracts, and bills that I'd accumulated, hoping it would be sufficient to prove that I'd been in Utah for over a year. She asked for proof from the counseling center that I'd been there over the summer, and for a copy of my on-campus housing contract from the previous two semesters. I went to the counseling center first and found that my counselors were both out but that the receptionist would give them a message. Then I went to Mountain View Tower and asked for a copy of the contract, but found that they were all being stored in some other place that had closed for the weekend five minutes ago.
I forwarded to the residency office my old email welcoming me to Mountain View and hoped that would be sufficient. Then all I could do was wait.
That wasn't my only problem around this time. As I was walking down the steps of Old Main Hill that evening, I contemplated the fact that I had no job and no money, that I had no heat or hot water in my apartment and I was cold, that my food was running out and I was hungry, that my shoes were disintegrating and my feet hurt, that I hadn't slept well in months and I was tired, and that my laptop had no Internet access. All this in addition to the very real possibility that I might have to drop out of college in three days. But as I contemplated all this I realized that I was happier than I remembered being for a long time - happy for no other reason than being alive.
The weekend passed and I didn't stress because I knew that wouldn't help. But then there I was again, facing the same fear, when all I had to do was find out what happened. Of course, this time the fear was more understandable. If the answer was one I didn't want to hear then I'd be in serious trouble. I didn't know how I'd make it through that trial if it came to that, but only that I would, with God. God would pull me through as He always had before. Still, I didn't really think it will come to that. I'd been praying for this for a long time, and I understood now that I had more of God's favor than I'd thought, and I had faith in both His power and willingness to avert the potential crisis and keep me in school this semester - somehow.
I checked the website and saw that my residency had been accepted. The tension inside me evaporated like water splashing on a stove burner.
It came back when I discovered that I'd been dropped from all my classes because the tuition deadline was three days before the residency deadline. It would cost a hundred dollars to re-enroll in each class. Not only did I have to ask my parents for money and explain to them that I hadn't applied for residency during the summer like they'd asked me to, and not only did I have to drop the non-essential classes like tae kwon do, but I had to talk to each of my professors and ask them to let me back in, and get permission from my academic advisor whom I hadn't seen in a year because of anxiety. If I didn't get all the professors' signatures within three days I'd have to start over, so procrastination was out this time.
(Note: the other part of this story was written in another document which I don't have right now. When I do I'll insert it here.)
This wasn't the hardest thing I've ever been through, but it was a turning point where I came to recognize and trust in the Hand of the Lord pulling me through everything, and so it will always stick out in my mind. It probably doesn't sound like a big deal to most people. It certainly isn't a big deal compared to many of the more severe challenges that people face. But to me, at the time, it was hell, and I was grateful to get through it.
I say this in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
My heart felt as though it were trapped in a vise, and every time I contemplated the task ahead of me I felt that death would be a welcome alternative. You see, I had to go to the Admissions office to get Utah residency, and presumably talk to the people there in the process. Old people, most likely, who would be scrutinizing me and my qualifications or lack thereof. I didn't know if I could handle that. Oh, and if I failed to get residency my scholarship would no longer cover all of my tuition and I'd be sunk.
I was utterly miserable. It had to be done today or there would be dire consequences. Maybe there would be anyway, but there would be for sure if I did nothing. The knowledge that once I'd done it the stress would be gone, it would be over and I could spend my Friday evening watching a sci-fi movie from the library was the only thing that gave me any peace. But it wasn't enough peace, not nearly enough. I wished I could do something easier, like maybe walking through the jaws of hell. That particular verse about Joseph Smith in jail ran through my mind more than a few times. "My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment. And then, if thou endure it well God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes."
I said a prayer; a rare vocal prayer on my knees. I regretted that it had to be short because of the time constraint, but I'd spent hours over the last few weeks praying on this subject anyway. I hoped it would be enough, and I worried that my hoping it would be enough signified a lack of faith on my part. God knew what I wanted, He knew what I needed, and He knew what He was going to give me. There wasn't some invisible threshold of prayer numbers and intensity that I had to cross to prove my worthiness. But I couldn't help feeling like there was.
So I started out, keeping a brisk and steady pace and not giving myself time to think too deeply about what I was getting into. I realized that sometimes you just have to do something that sucks, without the benefit of intervention to make it suck less. God never said that things would look hard leading up to them and then get easy as soon as you actually do them. Of course, there was no reason why this shouldn't be easy. No reason why I shouldn't have been able to do it months ago. No reason, except that my mind was diseased and my emotions reflected that.
As I was walking along I decided to play hymns in my head. To make a long story short, it worked, and the fear all but vanished, leaving me empty as I trekked to the Admissions office. "The Spirit of God" was the first one I did. Its majestic tone was perfect for inspiring me with boldness and imagining angels at my back. In reality, there easily could have been, so I like to think there were, probably grumbling silently about getting such a stupid assignment. I had to hold back on the singing skills of the imaginary singers in my head, though, because I found myself tearing up a little and I didn't want that going on when I arrived.
I instantly relaxed when I went in and saw a girl my age rather than an older woman who would be scrutinizing and judging me for my procrastination. I handed over the box of receipts, library checkout slips, contracts, and bills that I'd accumulated, hoping it would be sufficient to prove that I'd been in Utah for over a year. She asked for proof from the counseling center that I'd been there over the summer, and for a copy of my on-campus housing contract from the previous two semesters. I went to the counseling center first and found that my counselors were both out but that the receptionist would give them a message. Then I went to Mountain View Tower and asked for a copy of the contract, but found that they were all being stored in some other place that had closed for the weekend five minutes ago.
I forwarded to the residency office my old email welcoming me to Mountain View and hoped that would be sufficient. Then all I could do was wait.
That wasn't my only problem around this time. As I was walking down the steps of Old Main Hill that evening, I contemplated the fact that I had no job and no money, that I had no heat or hot water in my apartment and I was cold, that my food was running out and I was hungry, that my shoes were disintegrating and my feet hurt, that I hadn't slept well in months and I was tired, and that my laptop had no Internet access. All this in addition to the very real possibility that I might have to drop out of college in three days. But as I contemplated all this I realized that I was happier than I remembered being for a long time - happy for no other reason than being alive.
The weekend passed and I didn't stress because I knew that wouldn't help. But then there I was again, facing the same fear, when all I had to do was find out what happened. Of course, this time the fear was more understandable. If the answer was one I didn't want to hear then I'd be in serious trouble. I didn't know how I'd make it through that trial if it came to that, but only that I would, with God. God would pull me through as He always had before. Still, I didn't really think it will come to that. I'd been praying for this for a long time, and I understood now that I had more of God's favor than I'd thought, and I had faith in both His power and willingness to avert the potential crisis and keep me in school this semester - somehow.
I checked the website and saw that my residency had been accepted. The tension inside me evaporated like water splashing on a stove burner.
It came back when I discovered that I'd been dropped from all my classes because the tuition deadline was three days before the residency deadline. It would cost a hundred dollars to re-enroll in each class. Not only did I have to ask my parents for money and explain to them that I hadn't applied for residency during the summer like they'd asked me to, and not only did I have to drop the non-essential classes like tae kwon do, but I had to talk to each of my professors and ask them to let me back in, and get permission from my academic advisor whom I hadn't seen in a year because of anxiety. If I didn't get all the professors' signatures within three days I'd have to start over, so procrastination was out this time.
(Note: the other part of this story was written in another document which I don't have right now. When I do I'll insert it here.)
This wasn't the hardest thing I've ever been through, but it was a turning point where I came to recognize and trust in the Hand of the Lord pulling me through everything, and so it will always stick out in my mind. It probably doesn't sound like a big deal to most people. It certainly isn't a big deal compared to many of the more severe challenges that people face. But to me, at the time, it was hell, and I was grateful to get through it.
I say this in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.