On Service

I'll walk with you. I'll talk with you.
That's how I'll show my love for you.

Carol Lynn Pearson, "I'll Walk With You"

I.
If there's one thing that's stuck out to me as I've read the scriptures, listened at church, said my prayers, and watched General Conference, it's that I need to be more service-minded. I have felt the need to focus on that. So I've been praying to know who I should serve, and how, and I've been trying to keep my eyes open for opportunities.

To try and prompt inspiration, I've been doing things like reaching out to people in the ward I don't know as well and going through the ward directory and thinking of each sister, one at a time, and her needs. These are the kinds of things I need to be doing for my calling anyway, and I usually have general ideas and impressions about how these girls are doing. But in spite of how strongly I've felt lately that I should be serving, I didn't feel strongly that any of the people I was looking at needed that service from me. So I decided I needed to pray with more faith and spend more time thinking about it. Meanwhile, I felt guilty about spending more time than usual with my family and a few of my close friends. How could I justify doing things that were so selfishly enjoyable when I was supposed to be out serving others?

And then I had an epiphany.

What if Heavenly Father has already put people in my path that I could specifically help? Maybe I was given these friends and family members partly so that, when they needed help, I would already be there, perfectly positioned to serve them. When I thought about it, I realized that I don't really have to look far afield to find opportunities to serve; there are plenty around me. All I have to do is lift where I stand.

II.
I was on a date in the semi-recent past with a guy who expressed similar feelings about needing to serve people. Our conversation was good, if a little overly cerebral; we spent most of the time on philosophical/religious/political topics. As the date progressed, I started wondering what exactly this guy was looking for in a woman, because although I matched him wit for wit, I didn't sense that it moved him at all. I even wondered whether he really saw me, or whether I was just a sounding board for thoughts he'd held inside all day and wanted to get out.

To be honest, it was precisely his comments on service that started me wondering. He told me he felt an urgency in these promptings to serve people and was trying to figure out how to balance that with his very busy work schedule. He spoke as if he could see people off in the distance, hovering morosely around the edges of his social influence, in need of his help, and he was so passionate in this vision that I felt . . . well, next to invisible. He could see right through me—the not bad-looking and very available girl across the table listening to him, sipping soda, making encouraging comments—to these people with needs. I started wondering what I'd have to do to get him to see me. Swoon dramatically? Have some tragedy befall me so I could cry on his shoulder? Change my speech so I appeared younger and more naive and desperately in need of his advice?

As someone without any obvious needs, I felt like not much of a person, and least of all like an attractive woman. This guy isn't a jerk and certainly didn't intend any unkindness, so I wasn't angry at him at the end of the date when we parted ways; just a little discouraged. How ironic was it that the desire to serve could become a barrier, a blindness to less immediate but deeper needs for love and companionship? I didn't need him to date me to rescue me; I just needed him to be there at the table with me, seeing me. But I guess the bottom line is how can you see something you're not looking for?