Jeff Borders joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints at the age of 19, and since then has had many opportunities to serve in various capacities. His wife, Crystyne, was integral to his conversion while they were dating, and he believes her to be one of the best missionaries he has ever met. When not serving at church, Jeff works as the manager of Respiratory Therapy and Clinical Informatics at a rural hospital in Eastern Washington. He has published several fantasy novels and recently published his first religious book, The Antichrist Playbook. 

Enter Jeff…

I stood on the rocky beach shore, watching him row away from me, my heart full of guilt and more than a bit of worry that I was sending him off on his own into the unknown.

That’s near the end of my story, so let me go back to the beginning.

The Adventure Begins

Our ward’s priest quorum was planning an epic summer high adventure to kayak the San Juan Islands in the Puget Sound. I had the opportunity to join my oldest son on his first high adventure as a priest, and what an adventure it would be.

The plan seemed simple enough. We would travel from Spokane to Anacortes, where we would put in at Washington Beach. On the first day, we would paddle to Pelican Island, and from there, Clark Island, and eventually Sucia Island, where we would reverse and come back in the same direction. We would have a week on the ocean, away from distractions, with plenty of time to contemplate the wonderful world and our place in it.

We planned our meals, knowing we had limited space in the hulls of tandem kayaks. We did our safety training, ensuring all knew how to get back in a capsized kayak because ocean water can be unpredictable. Other groups that had made the trip had encountered winds and tides that hampered their journey, so we wanted to ensure we prepared for any eventuality. On the day of the trip, we met at the church parking lot, all a little tired from the early morning but still excited about what was to come. This trip was to be a grand adventure.

When we got to the launch site, we loaded up our kayaks, got the obligatory pictures, and soon were off. It became apparent quickly that I should have prepared more. The rowing was tiring, sometimes feeling like we weren’t getting closer to our destination, but the beautiful sights helped buoy us. The world around us was a stunning reflection of God’s majesty and glory. Dolphins jumped in and out of the water near us while bald eagles soared overhead and seals roamed the shores. The weather couldn’t have been better on that first day.

Unexpected Challenge

The first night on the island started great. We were excited to be surrounded by such beauty. We got on with our evening and headed to bed. Around three in the morning, I began to get very cold. It might be because I was staying in a hammock for the first time, but as the morning wore on, it was apparent that something wasn’t right. I felt more and more ill as time dragged on. As the sun rose, not even its rays could warm me, and the smell of the priests cooking their various breakfast items made my stomach twist. I couldn’t eat or drink anything without feeling sick.

It became evident quickly that I wouldn’t be able to manage the next row to Clark Island in my sick and dehydrated state. Luckily, we had a boat that could take me back to shore to go home later in the afternoon, but that would mean leaving my son. The decision was hard. I waited as long as possible, but I eventually conceded that my son and the other priests and leaders would have to go on without me. Worse for my son was that he couldn’t paddle the large tandem kayak by himself. He would need to be tethered to another kayak to make the row possible, thus increasing the strain on someone else.

As I watched my son paddle away, tethered to someone else, I had many conflicted feelings: guilt, frustration, and failure. It felt like such a failure, not only to my son but to the other priests and leaders who would no doubt have to take turns helping him get to where he needed to go.

I returned home and started feeling better within a few days, but my thoughts stayed with the priests, and I began to ponder the experience.

Remembering the Plan

I wondered if Heavenly Father feels the same way, watching His children leave His presence. We leave His protective side to venture into mortality, which has its share of dangers and trials. I watched my son leave me, knowing he had other leaders to keep him safe, but there might be trials ahead. I watched it from the beach. It looked like the kayaks weren’t moving for a while, but eventually, they were a speck on the horizon. Then, before I knew it, they were gone, and I was alone. I felt defeated. I wondered if my son would remember the meal plan we put together. Would he know how to use the rain fly for our new hammocks? I never taught him how to use the rudder to keep the kayak on course. There were so many questions about his preparedness for the task at hand.

As I thought about my son’s situation, it made me ponder Heavenly Father further. Does He wonder if His children remember the plan? Do they know how to use their rudder (the Spirit) to stay on course? Do they know how to build protection from the storms they will face?

Communicating With Father

Luckily, the group had some cell signal, so I constantly checked his location on Google Maps and eagerly awaited his responses to my texts. I knew he had limited battery and would only respond when he could, but I cherished that communication.

Our Heavenly Father waits for our communication with Him and cherishes it when we reach out to Him. Like any father, he is concerned about our whereabouts.

The group ran into rough weather, and a small craft advisory stranded them on Clark Island. Of course, there are worse places to be stuck than a beautiful island in the middle of the Pacific Northwest. But they were stranded. They would need a larger boat to pick them up and ferry them back to the safety of Anacortes. It was one of the things we considered when planning, but you only know what the weather will do once you are face-to-face with it.

Returning Home

After the weeklong trip, my son returned home, and my wife and I met him in the church parking lot. I didn’t even care about good-natured ribbing from the other priests about my “fake” illness. I was so excited to see my son and hear about his adventure.

Like my experience in seeing my son return home, our Heavenly Father will be excited when we return home from our mortal journey and tell him of our great adventure.

This experience, small as it was, has reminded me of how much God loves me. If I want to be successful as a parent, there is no better example than our loving Heavenly Father. Elder D. Todd Christofferson said the following about our fatherhood and Heavenly Father in the General Conference of April 2016:

“The perfect, divine expression of fatherhood is our Heavenly Father. His character and attributes include abundant goodness and perfect love. His work and glory are the development, happiness, and eternal life of His children. Fathers in this fallen world can claim nothing comparable to the Majesty on High, but at their best, they are striving to emulate Him, and they indeed labor in His work. They are honored with a remarkable and sobering trust.”

Though I didn’t consider it then, Heavenly Father was there with me on that rocky beach, watching my son paddle away when I felt defeated and like a failure. He sent His Comforter to offer peace when I was worried about my son. Both my son and I also had to be rescued in some way by someone with a boat and the capability of rescuing us.

Being the Rescuer on the Boat

The feeling that I have is likely something other people have experienced throughout mortality, alone, abandoned, feeling like a failure.

We have the opportunity to be the rescuer on the boat for others. The formal way we do this is through the ministering program, but this only works if we know the families we serve and they are willing to open up to us about their needs. It’s a two-way relationship.

Informal ministering is likely more common, as we grow close to our brothers and sisters at church, we can use the spirit of discernment to know how to come to their rescue. In his April 2001 talk, “To the Rescue,” President Thomas S. Monson said the following:

 “In a very real sense, those persons stranded on the vessel which had run aground in the storm-tossed sea are like many young men—and older men as well—who await rescue by those of us who have the priesthood responsibility to man the lifeboats. Their hearts yearn for help. Mothers and fathers pray for their sons. Wives and children plead to heaven that Daddy and others may be reached.”

A Father’s Love

As I ponder this experience and the words of modern prophets and apostles, I am grateful for the trust that Heavenly Father has given me as a father in mortality. I’m also thankful for what this experience taught me about a father’s love for his children and the rescuers He sends to us throughout our lives. And I am even more grateful that He gave His only begotten Son so that I could return home, having faced wind and waves, growing and learning, to come into His presence and tell Him about my grand adventure in this mortal life.