Turn to the Lord

I love this time of year: springtime is coming and the baseball season has already begun. I've always loved baseball. As a player, I prided myself on hustle and always giving my all. But my sophomore year of high school was not my best year for baseball. I sprained my wrist prior to the season, halting my preseason preparation; I pulled more than one muscle, hampering my potential consistency throughout the season; and when I did play, it wasn't exactly my best.

On one particular game against one of our rivals, I just wasn't feeling right physically, but didn't want to tell my coach I wouldn't be able to start. So I played. My coach always pushed what is known as "small ball," which consists of making sure you always have a good chance to score by bunting runners on base over to the next base. I reached base and the sign came in that the next batter would try to bunt me over. Unfortunately, it didn't go as planned.

I had a knack and a reputation for stealing bases, and so as I stood on first base, the pitcher tried to pick me off. The pitcher threw over five or six times while I was at first. My initial feeling of fatigue was only added upon by having to dive back and get up over and over. The play was still on, however, and my teammate got the bunt down. I turned and ran toward second, thinking that they wouldn't even try to throw to get me out. I didn't even look over to see where they were throwing, and I slowed as I came to the base. To my great disappointment, and to that of my coach and my teammates, the throw did go to second base, and I didn't slide and I hadn't run hard. I was out. The realization came over me harshly: I hadn't hustled, and it cost my team. I was taken out of the game and I promptly exiled myself to the end of the bench. I can't remember if we won or lost; I can only remember my guilt, which only compounded when my coach announced we would do extra sprints as a team the next day at practice as a result of my lack of hustle.

The game had been a road game, and I was surprised after to see that my dad had gone out of his way to come pick me up after work to take me home. But a feeling came over me that I didn't want to go with him. I didn't want to face him and tell him I hadn't hustled and it had potentially cost us the game. I didn't want him to lecture or even the comfort. So I told him I'd just ride the bus and see him when we got to the school.

Since that day, which contributed to my later decision to quit the team at the end of the year, effectively ending my dreams of continuing my baseball career in college, I have pondered the significance not only of my mistake, but my reaction to my father. I have remembered the sad silence that accompanied me on the bus ride home as my teammates talked of other things and my coach "taught me" by ignoring me. I have remembered the pain that lingered because of my unfortunate reluctance to go to my father and tell him what happened, he being the only person at that time who could give me the words of comfort I needed. I have regretted not going to him when he reached out to me.

The Lord told Joseph Smith: "I leave these sayings with you to ponder in your hearts, with this commandment which I give unto you, that ye shall call upon me while I am near—draw near unto me and I will draw near unto you; seek me diligently and ye shall find me; ask and ye shall receive; knock, and it shall be opened unto you" (D&C 88:62-63)

We all make mistakes. We are like little children in the ways of spiritual things, and we stumble and sometimes we fall. The great plan of salvation that our Heavenly Father has prepared, however, is to help us to stop stumbling so we can't even fall. What we must realize, though, is that this process is designed to occur throughout a lifetime, and beyond. Perfection is an eternal process, and we needn't fuss too much over our shortcomings. Genuine humility and recognition of them and our dependence on and faith in our Father in heaven will be the base of a continued repentance that will lead us to perfection.

But we have to go to Him!

We can't say, "I'll just go on, and I'll see you when I feel ready," as I said to my dad, and expect to receive comfort and begin to move on. Though it might be the hardest thing to do when we mess up, the first thing we need to do is go to Him in prayer and tell Him that we failed to hustle, and it may have cost us. If we do that, the answer that we will get is, "Fear not."

"He who has repented of his sins, the same is forgiven, and I the Lord remember them no more. By this ye may know if a man repenteth of his sin--behold, he will confess them, and forsake them" (D&C 58:42-43). It just takes a little bit of hustle, and a lot of humility, but we must turn to the Lord.