Be vs Do

            It seems that more and more in my life, the focus has switched from “doing” to “becoming,” especially in my ward. I, personally, tend to focus a little too much on what I and others can do- what are my talents? What am I good for? What have I done that’s worth anyone’s time? It seems to me that when I think about the things I can accomplish, I automatically compare myself to others, which is not a good habit. But when I think about who I am becoming- what are my beliefs? How do I integrate these beliefs into my life? Am I developing Christlike attributes?- the focus moves solely toward myself and my personal progress. So while doing is an essential part of becoming, it shouldn’t be the only part.

            I was talking to a friend who said that he’d been thinking a lot about who he wants to be. I, without thinking, blurted that it was easy for me because I just want to be a mom. He smiled and modified his statement, saying what kind of person he wants to be. And I modified my answer by adding good to the title. Immediately I felt sheepish, like I’d given a shallow answer, which wasn’t helped by the sad smile he gave me as if I didn’t understand the concept of truly becoming someone God wants me to become. But the more I think about it, the more I stand by my answer, even if I didn’t explain myself well (or at all, really) in the moment and so it seems like I gave a childish answer.

            Motherhood is a divine calling, and it involves more than simply giving birth to children. In a talk about being versus doing, a general authority explained how personality/attitudes and beliefs are more important than what you do for a living. Some people might categorize “stay at home mom” as an occupation. But it is so much more than that. Being a true parent is being Christlike. It means learning His attributes like patience, loving kindness, gentleness, etc… It means working hard to keep the ones you love both physically and spiritually nurtured, being in the world but not of the world, sharing the gospel, even being a good neighbor. Even though they aren’t perfect and they have some traits I do not want to take on, I can’t think of anyone else on the earth right now who I’d like to become like more than my parents. So, who do I want to be 30 years from now? A mom. A good mom.

            Speaking of being a good person, I had an interesting experience on Monday. You know how you hear those stories of people doing random acts of service for strangers, like helping them on the side of the road kind of thing? And you always wonder that if the opportunity were to present itself, would you do the same thing? Would you be that kind person? In your imagination you would, but when you really think about it, there are so many other things to consider. What if the random stranger is a con artist, rapist, or ax murderer? What if you go to offer your help and they turn you down flat, or are otherwise straight up rude? Well, I had the opportunity to test my ethical code:

I saw an old man walking down 9^th East, a limp in his walk, a cane in one hand, and a few heavy-looking grocery bags in the other. As I passed by, I got a prompting to stop the car and give him a ride, but immediately became uneasy as all my paranoia hit. He might be an old man, but you never know, ya know? I was almost home and considered just ignoring the prompting (I was late for home evening as it was), but as soon as I realized that it was a prompting and not just an idle idea, I turned the car around and stopped to pick him up. He’d only made it a few feet despite how long I’d spent turning the car around and mulling things over and when I got his attention and he turned to me, I could see that he was panting heavily and his face was covered in sweat. I asked if he wanted a ride and he insisted he was almost home. I told him it would really be no problem because I have a car and I was heading that way anyway, and he admitted that even though it was a relatively short distance, it would be worth it. When he clambered in awkwardly (I always forget how short I am until someone normal height gets in the car with me) and I apologized for the lack of leg room, he launched into a story about his deceased wife who was my height before she died unexpectedly at the age of 42. We talked while I took him home and he told me stories for another 10 minutes after we got there. He is a lonely old man, even though most of his kids live nearby, and he talked like he hadn’t had much contact with anyone for a while. Maybe he was just old, or maybe I really did make his day by being a listening ear for a short while, but either way I headed off to home evening a little lighter than before.