Paper #1

Bethany Cleaver

English 101-5:30

Dr. Sonia Begert

10/20/15

Sister Shoop, the church’s young woman president, stood up in front of the group of teenage girls. The bubbly conversation slowly sank in volume as one by one, the smiling faces turned towards the kind, middle-aged woman who was trying to get their attention so she could teach that Sunday’s lesson. I sat by myself, frantically glancing about, earnest for everyone to be quiet.

 

 

 

Don’t talk. I warned myself. Do want to have to apologize for it later?

 

 

 

I sat still, staring at Sister Shoop, her soft blonde hair fluttering every time she moved. I gazed at her watery blue eyes wondering if she knew the turmoil that was slowly conquering my everyday life.

 

 

 

This was a time in my life that could be described as rainy. Then, it seemed as though the threat of thunder was around every corner of thought and that lightning bolts of fear would strike in even the sunniest places. Leading up to this, the beginning of my freshman year in high school, I had had a perfect childhood. My family life seemed to be modeled after the Cleaver family in the television show Leave it to Beaver, I had almost always done well in school, and had been raised comfortably. Visibly, nothing had changed. Mentally though, I was a prisoner to my worries.

 

 

 

Things had started going downhill in eighth grade. Anxiety about mathematics, my relationships and, being religious, my spirituality started tainting my self-esteem and confidence. I felt like I was always doing something wrong and like I was obligated to apologize for every little thing. Accidentally bumping into someone in a crowded room was an epidemic in my mind. I had talked to my parents, siblings and bishop many times about my concerns, but the anxiousness did not go away.

 

 

 

Pondering on this, I thought, Will I ever be normal again?  A feeling of darkness overshadowed any happiness I might have felt earlier that day. So much for Sunday.

 

 

 

Sister Shoop’s cheery voice pulled me out of my lull of memory. “Alright girls, I’d like to talk to you about New Beginnings. We have set the date for October tenth.” A feeling of warmth, similar to the comfort dispensed in taking a sip of hot chocolate, poured over me at this request. New beginnings is an event where all of the teenage girls are recognized for the activities they have completed in their Personal Progress booklets in the six months prior. The booklet contains tasks and projects relating to values such as integrity, virtue and faith that must be completed to progress. I had completed two of the values. A feeling of confidence surged throughout my body. She continued, “Since your mothers play such a big role in helping you reach your goals in Personal Progress, we were thinking of giving each of them an empty letter so they can write a little message to you about their feelings, goals, your progress, or whatever. Does that sound like a good idea?”

 

 

 

            Dread ripped the blanket of confidence right off my shoulders. I looked around dismally, surveying the sea of nodding heads. Things had not been too pleasant between my mom and me recently, seeing how I was always an emotional wreck. I had worn her out with my problems, and she couldn’t battle my worrisome thoughts for me anymore. I left church that day, card in hand, hoping somehow it would turn out well. What my mom would have to say would either be really inspirational or unresponsive.

 

 

 

            A week or two went by and I forgot about the card. In no time at all, it was the day of New Beginnings. A friend had given me a ride to the church after school. There, I was met by a pleasant sight. There were eight, round tables spread out across the Gym floor. White cloths covered them, accompanied by little vases of pink and lavender flowers. A long table glutted with sweets stood against one of the walls. As I was admiring these, Sister Shoop came up to me and asked, “Hey Bethany! Did you give your mom the card?” Her round face smiled in anticipation as she awaited my response.

 

 

 

I jerked my head in her direction. I could feel my eyes widen and my skin grow feverish. “Oh! I totally forgot!” I exclaimed, the words tumbling out of my mouth and landing in an unorganized heap on the ground of our conversation. “I’m so sorry!” There I go, apologizing again! I thought exasperatedly.

 

 

 

“That’s ok.” she laughed. “I have another one I can give her.”

 

 

 

“Thank you!” I sighed in relief. I looked up at the clock. It was just one minute until it was supposed to start. I examined the room for my mom but instead found my sisters, Lauren and Caralyn. I walked to their table and sat down.

 

 

 

            “Where is mom?” I asked, sitting down next to them.

 

 

 

“Well, after Sister Shoop handed her one of those letters that we were supposed to give her, she got up and left the Gym. Did you forget?” Lauren asked accusingly.

 

 

 

“Maybe.” I replied glumly.

 

 

 

“Wow, Bethany. That is so embarrassing!” Caralyn stared at me expectantly, waiting to see my remorse. She tilted her ear in my direction, hinting at  an apology.

 

 

 

“Well, sorry!” I said angrily. “You know that things are rough right now! Cut me some slack.”

 

 

 

Lauren opened her mouth, ready to intercept the conversation with some splintering censure, but was interrupted by Sister Shoop, “Welcome to New Beginnings everyone!” We will begin by singing a hymn.” The night pressed on and my mother was still absent. I was starting to wonder if she was even in the building anymore when the Young Woman’s President announced that now the time was designated for us to read our letter. As everyone was dispersing to different areas of the church, my mom rushed into the gym and handed me my letter. She smiled at me encouragingly, but quickly turned to talk to my grandparents. I slowly walked out of the gym and to the dark stairs leading to the stage. I sat down, took a deep breath, and bravely opened my letter. There were seven golden stars on the front of it. Each of them had a letter drawn onto it, spelling the word believe. I felt the tears rush into my eyes. It hit me that that was what I needed to do, believe. I needed to believe that I was capable of goodness. I opened the letter. My heart softened as I read deeper and deeper into the letter. She expressed, “…you could cheer anyone it seemed. This was accompanied by almost superhuman physical strength and [a] booming voice, a potential force with shocking red hair!” I laughed as I remembered the squirrely little girl I had once been. Sunshine filled my memory, characterizing the fun-filled and carefree childhood I had had. I fastened once again onto my mother’s words: “Bethany, the challenges you are facing right now are…shocking [and] surprising, our assumptions [of your success] and your strengths. [Regardless], we know those strengths will reemerge with new and varied powers, refined and matured to greater purpose. [These challenges are] ultimately no match for your native powers of strength, cheer, faith and fun!” Through those beautiful words, my mother’s love for me and confidence in my abilities was communicated. I realized the beauty of literature, and the edifying role it can play in our lives. This, along with many other letters and inspiring messages, have forged and founded my fondness of literature. There is always some author out there, who has written some book that we can relate to and find comfort in. When we have literature, we are never alone.