“I want to be Peter Pan when I grow up!”
If you could have listened in on our family conversations back in the day, you would have heard this statement uttered from my lips thousands of times, from the time I was about 2 years old until I started kindergarten. It was probably the very first cognitive and deliberate aspiration I ever had. And who can blame me really? Peter Pan is awesome! Who wouldn't want to go on countless exciting adventures amid the wondrous backdrop of the Neverland landscape? The idea of sword fighting with sinister pirates, befriending lost boys and fanciful fairies, while soaring effortlessly through the sky is immensely captivating. Even now, the thought of allowing imagination to reclaim it’s rightful reign, while slipping free from the constraints of responsibilities, gravity, or even time is alluring. Back then, my desire to become Peter Pan was so encompassing, that for at least a year I refused to wear anything but the Peter Pan costume my mom made for me. I even relentlessly petitioned my family to call me Peter for a while.
It’s been nearly 20 years since I had to retire those leafy green tights and start going by my real name once again, but that inherit imaginative nature and ability to dream has fueled the long list of subsequent aspirations I have had over the years. I’ve wanted to be everything from an astronaut to an astrophysicist. I’ve wanted to compose music and score movies, but I’ve also wanted to play professional hockey and score goals. I’ve wanted to join the FBI as a special agent and I’ve wanted to become a CIA operative. I’ve wanted to be a therapist, lawyer, entrepreneur, author, puppeteer, actor, pilot, magician, movie director, teacher, circus performer, concert pianist, police officer, paleontologist, stuntman, and archeologist. And that just scratches the surface of things I’ve wanted to do when I grow up.
As you can imagine, finding myself at the juncture where it’s expected that I choose a career path has been slightly confusing. Figuring out what to do with your life can be a difficult decision, especially for a kid who wants to do and experience so many different things. Its a very grownup predicament facing the kid who idolized the boy who never grows up. Yet despite this seemingly schizophrenic crisis of life goals and career paths, one thing has remained constant over the last decade. It serves as my compass and guiding star and makes life seem less daunting and overwhelming.
Ten years ago, I was a fairly typical teenager. Awkward, annoying, aloof, always acting out, attitude driven, and peppered with pimples. My family and I had recently moved from my home state, the beautiful and mountainous Colorado, to the dull and flat state of Kansas. Even though we had moved a few times before, this particular move was exceptionally difficult for me for a multitude of reasons. But after many months of resisting, I finally began to acclimate. I found myself settling in at school, making some great friends, and even beginning to accept Kansas as “home,” although I still don’t understand why Dorothy was so anxious to get back.
Then, all of a sudden, we found out we were moving...again! This time to New York. All the effort I had just put into making friends and creating memories began to seem wasted. To put it mildly, I wasn’t thrilled to be moving, even if it was out of Kansas. Apparently I began to act out more than usual. My bad attitude and poor behavior caught the attention of my parents. So they did what any good parent raised on 60s television would do with a rebellious teenager. They sent me to camp, back in Colorado. It was called Aaron’s Camp, which was a high adventure camp that our church put on every couple of years. It was designed to be a fun way to help young men feel and recognize the spirit and come closer to Christ.
I had very mixed emotions when I heard that the plane tickets had been purchased and my spot at camp was already reserved. On one hand, I was ecstatic to go back to Colorado and spend time with some of my best friends. On the other hand, it was to go camping, and I am not a huge fan of camping. It’s true, the mountains of Colorado are beautiful and awe inspiring, but my relationship with the mountains is complicated. To me, they are more like a first middle school crush than a great friend. Occasionally you might be bold enough to sit close to them during lunch or even invite them to a party, but most of the time you just admire them from a safe distance. Casual run ins are fine. Sleepovers on the other hand? That’s preposterous and downright unacceptable. So when it comes to camping, I really would just rather sleep in a comfortable bed under a sturdy roof as opposed to on the ground in a flimsy tent. Plus bugs love the mountains, and despite their constant attempts to befriend me, I will never love bugs. Which then creates an awkward love triangle that I just don't want to deal with. So the idea of camping for a week wasn’t exactly exciting. Especially a church camp.
Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t have anything against the church. I grew up in the church and always felt comfortable there. I believed it was true. By nature, I tend to have a trusting heart, so I never felt there were major reasons to distrust what was being taught. Although, admittedly, there was a growing amount of skepticism growing inside me which was fueled by internet forums. Yet, I always tried to be good and keep the commandments. That being said, my relationship with the church and spiritual matters, was a lot like a passing acquaintanceship with a friendly elderly person. Crossing paths with church on a weekly basis was all well and good, but we weren’t about to become best friends. I didn’t completely understand the church, and the church didn’t seem to understand me, but I was ok with that. A casual understanding and relationship with God was all I needed. After all, how could you actually know for sure if any of it was really true?
The first couple of days back in Colorado were bliss. My friends and I acted as if I had never left in the first place. We had fun playing video games, having air soft wars, playing street hockey, and just goofing off. But the weekend of partying ended the moment we packed the car to drive up to camp. Up to that point, I held out hope that we could somehow skip out on the camp, and just keep goofing off for the rest of the trip. Though, sadly, my dreams of playing “camping hooky” were futile. It was going to happen whether I liked it or not, which made me angry. I didn’t want to waste the precious time I had with friends by playing church in the mountains. So as we drove toward the mountains, with each passing mile, my attitude worsened.
It didn’t get much better when we were greeted at the entrance of the camp by various leaders singing hymns. I’m sure my eyes rolled at least a few times. Then they asked us to hike a short distance to the main campsite where we took care of all the initial orientation proceedings. We split into groups, set up camp, went over rules, and were given t-shirts. Then we participated in a few activities to help us get excited about the week. All the while, I was still trying to think of a way to get out of being there. But I knew deep down inside, that I was hopelessly stuck.
After dinner, we gathered in a small amphitheater where an older gentleman started speaking to us. He was by no means a particularly engaging speaker. Nor was his topic one that I was especially interested in. I don’t know his name, or really remember much about his appearance. I don’t remember what he sounded like. I can’t remember many details about his talk. Yet, somehow, he was able to get through to me as I sat there and gave him a small portion of my attention.
He began to talk about the theme of the camp, which was having a mighty change of heart. As he did so, I remember having a moment of introspection. I realized that I was there in the woods, at a silly little camp, listening to a boring old man talk...but there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. The only thing I really had any control over, was my attitude toward the situation. So I could either continue to have a bad attitude and be miserable for the rest of the week, or I could make the attempt to have a good time. When I realized this, my demeanor began to change. I listened more intently, and began to realize that the quality of the experience I was going to have, was ultimately up to me. So, with a leap of faith, I decided that I might as well try and have fun. Not only that, but I might as well make the most of the situation, and try to learn the spiritual lessons they wanted to teach.
Looking back at how I felt before that talk, and how I felt afterward, I realize how miraculous it was that my hard heart was softened just enough to be open to giving this camp the chance that it deserved. That talk, though brief and ultimately forgettable, helped change my life.
When this older gentleman finished speaking, they took us on a short, silent hike to give the leaders time to set things up for a small play they were going to perform. They said it was a time for us to ponder, pray, and prepare our minds. So with my newfound desire to make the most of the experience, I began to offer the most sincere prayer I had ever given up to that point in my life. For the first time, I was truly honest in acknowledging my faults as well as admitting some doubts I had about God and the church. Then just as honestly, I put my faith and trust in the Lord by promising that if he would make himself known to me, I would make whatever changes I needed to make and I would do my best to follow him throughout the remainder of my life. It was simple, yet sincere.
As I closed this humble prayer in the name of the Savior, a faint, warm, and peaceful feeling began to burn in my heart. It gradually increased, until a flood of love and peace washed over my body from head to toe. It seemed to rebounded, and began to course through my body like a bolt of lightning. It came with such force, that the hair on the back of my neck and arms stood tall as goosebumps enshrouded me. It was so overwhelming, it literally caused me to gasp. I had to hold back tears which were forming in my eyes, because I knew if my friends saw me crying, they would ask me what was going on. The truth was, I honestly didn’t know how to explain what was going on. I had felt many warm tingly feelings before, like during inspirational movies or while listening to uplifting music, and even at church and other youth activities, but this was different. This sensation was much stronger, and was somehow entirely new, yet undeniably familiar. It was a feeling that I can’t deny came from the Lord in a direct and loving answer to my prayer.
Just as suddenly as the feeling had washed over me, it began to dissipate, leaving in its absence a fainter feeling of simmering peace, a much more common feeling that I have come to recognize and greatly appreciate.
We returned to the amphitheater and watched the play, all the while I was left to contemplate my experience on the hike, while trying desperately to hold on to and remember the feelings of peace, joy, and love. The play ended, and we all stood and sang “The Spirit of God.” As we started to sing the chorus, to my joy, my heart began to burn once more. This time I couldn’t hold back the tears which were flowing freely down my face. “We’ll sing and we’ll shout with the armies of heaven, Hosanna, Hosanna, to God and the Lamb. Let glory to Them in the highest be given, hence forth forever and ever. Amen and amen!” As we walked back to our tents that night, our group of normally rambunctious teenaged boys, walked in silent awe, as we recognized the spirit which had settled on our campsite.
Much has happened in the years since that experience. While my Peter Pan-crazed 2 year old self might be disappointed, I’ve grown up in many ways. I’ve matured physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. There have been good times as well as bad. I’ve made some good choices, and I’ve made plenty of mistakes. My testimony and witness of the Savior and His gospel have grown immensely. Yet, there have also been times where I’ve entertained unexplained questions and every now and then I come face to face with some more doubts. I've seen miracles, and I've experienced tragedies. But no matter what my imperfect life may bring, no matter where my goals may take me, my greatest aspiration will never be to become Peter Pan, a rocket scientist, or treasure hunter. It's something much greater. My ultimate aspiration is to live a life that is dedicated to the Lord and worthy of His approval. Because, despite the twist and turns, or ups and downs my life will take, I will always know certain things which can never be taken away from me. I know that my Savior lives and that He is aware of me. I know without a doubt that He loves me. I know the fullness of His gospel is found on the earth and that he speaks to us through His prophets. I know that through Him, none of my mistakes need to be permanent. None of my fears need to be consuming. None of my regrets need to be devastating. Because of Him, I have been able to find peace and comfort in times of trial and struggle. Because of Him, I not only get to live again, but my life now is filled with meaning and importance. And I’m grateful for this knowledge which has come all because He was willing to speak to the soul of a 15 year old kid as he stood in the woods, humbly wondering if anyone was really there. All I had to do, was be willing to listen.
My name is Brent Besselievre, and I'm a Mormon!
