Mary Poppins Monday: Cara Gilbert

On my mission...

Oh brother, is she seriously going to talk about her mission again? I think I'll go do the dishes.

Alright, for those of you who are still with me, I am seriously going to talk about my mission...AGAIN! On my mission there were two things that flustered me. I was not afraid to knock doors. I was not afraid to make phone calls (seriously...me...not afraid). I was not afraid to teach others about the gospel. But there were two things. Two things that always left me wondering about my abilities as a missionary.

The first problem occurred whenever I ran into someone Jewish. They were always lovely, and wonderful and kind, but I always froze when someone said "I'm Jewish". It just left me unsure what to say next. Usually you build on common beliefs, but Jesus Christ is central to my beliefs and I usually ended up saying something like, "Oh...uh...wow...cool...nice to meet you." And then the door shut. I would go away thinking of what I should've, could've, would've said and telling myself I'd be ready next time, but next time I would turn in to mush mouth again and walk away with my tail between my legs.

The other thing that caused great trepidation was giving tours. During the summers I served at the historical sites in Palmyra and Fayette, New York*. The most awesome places on earth! I loved to take investigators there, but giving formal tours made me nervous. I am just not the tour guide type. Before I got my call I was at temple square with Seth and one of the sister missionaries was giving her little spiel. I leaned over and said "thank goodness I live in Salt Lake because I COULD NOT go here and I COULD NOT do that". Ha,Ha, jokes on me. I got called to be tour guide Barbie after all. Visitor Center missionaries had a bit of a reputation for reapplying lipstick all day and having perfect hair and just being so prim and proper, all things that I am not. I wanted to be out in the trenches finding people to teach. Not like the mud hut, wash your clothes in the river trenches though. More like the air-conditioned, running water type trenches. Don't misunderstand me, I loved, loved, loved my call. This was not just any Visitor Center. This was the visitor center of visitor centers. Five amazing places where sacred and important things took place. I heard the prophet call it the most sacred place on earth, second only to the places where Christ spent his mortal ministry. I would have been crazy not to love this calling. Love it though I did, I still never really felt like tours were my strong point. I had some amazing tours and wonderful moments there but I was never completely confident. Most of the site sisters were at the sites all summer, but my second year out my mission president recognized how much I loved my air conditioned trenches and left me out proselyting until right before the Hill Cumorah pageant, when they needed all hands on deck.

Pageant week started and that is just one crazy tour fest. Huge groups of people are coming through the sites. The tour guides are all running non-stop, 16 hours a day. The mission presidents two teenage daughters even learned the tours for the Joseph Smith farm and helped out. And that is how I met Cara Gilbert.

Cara was best friends with Becky, my mission president's daughter. Cara was Jewish. Since she hung out at the mission home often, several missionaries had tried to teach Cara. She wasn't interested. In fact, she was starting to get annoyed. One day during the pageant madness Cara came over to the Joseph Smith farm. She was meeting up with Becky so that they could go to pageant together. We were introduced and I liked Cara the exact second that I met her. She talked a million miles a minute, like me, and she was vivacious and fun. She had just graduated from high school and was moving away to college. She loved theatre. I loved theatre. We talked theatre mostly. I told her that a theatre girl like her was going to love pageant and to let me know what she thought. We just chit chatted. I don't remember all the specifics. Then she left.

The next day Becky and Sister Breinholt, the mission president's wife, approached me with big smiles and excitement in their stride. They told me that Cara had really liked talking to me. She was happy and relieved that I had not tried to offer her a tour or teach her the gospel. In that moment I wasn't sure if I had succeeded or failed. After all, it was my job to offer tours and teach the gospel but when I met Cara she wasn't a number or a challenge. She was my friend, so I talked to her like she was my friend.

A few weeks later I got a phone call. Cara wanted me to take her on a tour. I had about a week left on my mission at that point. I was excited and then nervous. I set up a time for her to come out on p-day (our day off) because I didn't want to be rushed by other tours or obligations. I prayed a lot about that tour. Cara was first and foremost, my friend , exactly the way she was. But I also felt like I had to testify to her. I had to invite her to learn about the gospel. Not to join, but to learn. The morning of the tour came and I was freaking out.

We walked next door to the Joseph Smith farm and met up with Cara. As if I wasn't nervous enough, the mission president's daughter, Becky, was there so I knew that if I butchered this tour it would all get back to headquarters. Cara was smiling and exuberant and happy to see me. I asked her if we could head out to the Sacred Grove first. We found a quiet place to sit and talked about Joseph Smith and the first vision. I don't remember a lot of the actual words that any of us spoke but I do remember Cara saying that it was cool that we knew where our religion started.

We then moved to the Joseph Smith log home. We went upstairs and talked about Moroni, who had appeared there, in that very air space, and told Joseph Smith about the Book of Mormon. That place always meant so much to me. To stand where the knowledge of the Book of Mormon, my Book of Mormon, came forth. It just always overwhelmed me. We talked about scriptures. I testified about the importance of the Book of Mormon. I asked if she had a copy. We laughed. Of course she did. I'm sure my insides were quivering as I asked if she would read it and pray. She agreed. We left the log home and chatted a little bit and then we parted ways. That was it.

Being a tour guide was tough. Most of the time my tours were to members who would say they'd already heard about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon, at which point I would ask them what they were hoping to hear when they came. They would tell me they wanted to know who slept in which room and how all the historical artifacts worked. Who cares? That is fun but in a place so sacred that God himself has been there, is a fireplace oven or a butter churn really what it's about? Is that really why they had come cross country? Or you would get members who would try to pretend they weren't members and trip you up for a laugh. Or you would get members who would come up after the tour and ask for your address because they were just sure you were supposed to marry their son. Or you would get members who would ask you if you were disappointed that you didn't get to serve a "real mission". Ouch! And sometimes you would get members who really got it. Who were there to feel closer to God.

And then there were the tours with non-members, like Cara. Your one chance to introduce the gospel. No follow up visits or second appointments. Just 30 minutes together and then they were gone and I would be left without any idea what they thought or felt, or if they would ever have contact with the church again. At the conclusion of Cara's tour I was left worried, and hoping I had done enough. Not to convert her, that was never my job, but to share with a friend what was most important to me. I said goodbye to Cara and prayed for her. That her college experience would be awesome, that she would be safe and that if she was looking for answers that she would find them.

A few days later my mission ended. I got up and loaded my bags to head to the mission home. My whole mission was in front of me and I was analyzing it. Was it enough? Was my sacrifice acceptable? Did it make a difference to anyone but me? We pulled up in front of the mission home. I took the very heavy baggage that was my heart from the car. I started to walk forward and saw Cara pacing around in the driveway.

She ran up and said (in her always joyful way) that she had been waiting all morning and was afraid she was going to miss me. She was leaving to be a leader at a Jewish youth camp but she had taken the time to come and say goodbye. She told me she would miss me and that she was happy that I came, and other nice words that I can't even remember. Someone was happy that I had been there. We embraced, a Jewish girl and a Mormon girl, both daughters of God and friends.

I thought of her that whole day. She gave me strength. Heavenly Father sent her to help me in that moment. I need reassurance and she provided that, and more.

Even if the story had ended there, it would have been enough, but Cara was sent to be my Mary Poppins twice.

I have told you before that I really struggled after my mission. I had a really hard time feeling important or spiritual again. I had questions. I had doubts. I felt guilty because I had other obligations that prevented me from studying my scriptures all day. I felt like nothing I was doing was making a difference. I just couldn't adjust.

One evening (about two years later) I was sitting in my computer room and the phone rang. I answered, or maybe Seth answered and handed me the phone. Either way, I somehow found myself on the line with a bubbly young voice. I heard "this is Cara Gilbert, I was the last person you ever gave a tour to at the Joseph Smith farm". It sunk in for a second and then I found myself falling easily into conversation with an old friend. She went on to tell me that she had met with the missionaries over the past couple years and was recently baptized. We talked about how this affected her family relationships, and how she knew the church was true. This time she was my missionary. She testified to me and her testimony was solid.

She said that she wanted to call and tell me that when she was interviewed before her baptism the missionary asked her when she first felt the Spirit. She told me the answer that she gave. It was on that tour that day. Then they asked her when her testimony of Joseph Smith started and she told me she realized that that had also occurred on that tour. My tour. Somehow in spite of my inadequacies as a tour guide and the fact that Cara was Jewish, the Spirit was there. I felt it then but I never knew what she had felt.

I thanked Cara for calling. I thanked Heavenly Father for Cara calling. I was once again weak, and unsure and Cara came to give me strength and reassurance.

I don't know where Cara is now. We kept in touch for awhile. I even saw her once when she was in Utah visiting Becky, but that was way back when I was pregnant with Alyssa. She was still my same funny, fast talking Cara. She had been through the temple. She was strong. She was faithful.

Cara often thanked me and told me I was awesome but it was Cara who was awesome and I am so thankful for Cara and for the wind that blew her in to my life. Although, Cara and I both know that it was something far more powerful than wind that brought us together.

* Maybe one day I will tell you more about each historical site that I served at just in case you are not a Mormon church history buff. If you are confused about where I served or what I am talking about, feel free to ask. I treat this blog as a journal and sometimes fail to expound appropriately.