Make Your Mark: Essay Contest Results

Doctrine and Covenants 136:10 - "Let every man use all his influence and property to remove this people to the place where the Lord shall locate a stake of Zion."

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.