I recently entered a writing contest hosted by BYU.
I lost.
Today, I present the essay I wrote.
Your Unseen Influence
I step into the
‘X’-shaped administration building from the North entrance. I used to frequent
this structure as a nervous freshmen, understanding it contained many answers
to my questions. Now, I rarely give the edifice a second thought, using it only
as a shortcut in the most peculiar of circumstances.
Today, though, is different. I have
yet again determined I dislike my chosen major. My education has worn me down
physically, mentally, emotionally, and, most importantly, financially. Despite
this, I am looking at seeking several more years’ worth of loans as I change
tracks and embed myself in even more semesters of school. I know I am pushing
back my career and what I believe to be freedom, but I am stuck, unsure of my
next step.
I slow down and stop. I don’t want
to go to class. What good will it do? I’m not learning anything that will help
me in my career. I’m not helping anyone, and certainly not myself. I briefly
contemplate dropping out of school, getting a part-time job off-campus, and
just having fun with my free time. It sounds like an easier life than what I’m
currently living.
As these thoughts burrow deeper into
my mind, I unconsciously meander over to a painting on my left-hand side. The
administration building’s namesake, Abraham O. Smoot, looms over me, his
peaceful smile accentuated by his classic neckbeard. I’ve heard this man’s name
a lot, but I can’t honestly remember why he’s so important. I look at the
plaque below his likeness and learn that he was the first President of the
Board of Trustees. His plaque credits him with saying, “… I love that school …
It must live.”
I appreciate the distraction from my
thoughts. In another time, my curiosity would have died long before I found the
right person or book in the library to tell me who Abraham was, but today, I
have a phone with access to the internet. I plug Abraham’s name into a search
engine and poke around.
I’m disappointed to discover that
precious little of Abraham’s influence has been recorded in easily accessible
databases. My attention span doesn’t allow me to linger for too long, but I
learn that Abraham died without a dollar to his name. Brigham Young University
had once been on the verge of financial collapse, and Abraham had sold
everything he owned, even his own home, to ensure that the school would live.
As I slide my phone back into my pocket, I assume Abraham’s sacrifice is the
reason why I was able to enroll here at all. Without him, there wouldn’t have
been a school.
I sit on the bench to Abraham’s
left-hand side. Abraham may not have known if his sacrifice had meant anything.
Perhaps he worried that the school would collapse regardless of his status as a
benefactor. I suspect he died praying his life of service had made a
difference.
I look around the administration
building, named after this great man. Even setting aside the rest of campus,
this structure alone is beautiful. I look at the intricately designed tile
floor, the majestic columns, and the unique marble stairs. I smell that
indescribable scent, crisp and poignant, that permeates every step of campus. I
peer out the glass doors and see hundreds of students passing by, confident and
assured.
I smile. I hope Abraham can see
this. I hope he can see what his contributions did for us students. In knowing
what I do about him now, I find it fitting that his namesake is literally the
‘X’ that marks this campus’ spot.
Then, I remember.
I’m not here so things can be easy.
I’m not here because I know what I want to do in my life. I’m not even here for
myself.
I am here because I want as many
opportunities as I can to lift others to their true potential.
Abraham
may have never met me, but he gave away everything he had to ensure I had the
same opportunity to give of myself, as he did.
I stand up. I may have missed the
opening prayer, but I can still make it to class. I don’t know where I’ll be at
the end of my education, but I do know I want to make a difference. And once I
step out into the world holding whatever degree I choose, I know I won’t be
disappointed.
Abraham made sure of that.