Episode 1: The Origin Story

 

Six years.

That is how long I prepared to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Really, as someone who was born and raised in the church, I had been preparing to serve for my entire life up to the point I left.

As a young man in the Church, I was taught that I had a choice of whether or not to serve, but I was also taught that as a priesthood holder, it was my duty. Beyond the expectation, I WANTED to serve, I wanted that experience.

However, there was something different that I had to overcome to fulfill my dream. I had cerebral palsy. As the firstborn, my parents were new to the whole parenting thing. So, they did not know what benchmarks and milestones I was supposed to hit as I grew.

As my dad went to work, he would talk about me and my progress. It was not until one of his coworkers alerted him that I was not reaching those normal benchmarks that my parents had any inkling that something was wrong.

They concluded that they needed to take me to the doctor, and when they did, they learned that something was indeed abnormal. They were told by the pediatrician that there was a chance that I would not be able to walk and that I would be confined to a wheelchair. In spite of this, they believed that the Lord had sent me to them for a reason. I was theirs. They loved me, unconditionally. Nothing was going to change that.

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Growing up, they allowed me to dream. They told me that anything was possible, and they made every effort to give me the chance to fulfill every dream I had.

For example, at two, I fell in love with the game of baseball and wanted to play. Instead of telling me that I couldn’t, they joined forces with our home teacher to create a Challenger Little League in my hometown.

I never heard the word impossible out of their mouths when it came to my goals and aspirations. They also chose to support instead of suppressing my young dreams. Consequently, as I grew and my dreams grew with me, the term ‘impossible’ was never in my vocabulary.

That played a large part in my determination to serve a mission. I knew it was possible because I wanted it.

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In no way did that translate to an easy path to my goal—far from it. As long as I can remember until about the age of 10 or 11, I underwent Botox injections twice a year. These injections helped to loosen my tight hamstrings and gastrocs so that I had the best chance to walk better. This was never meant to be a permanent fix. It was only meant to hold me over until my body was ready for surgery. We had to wait until my body was more developed and reached a certain point.

That long-awaited day finally came in the summer of my freshman year of high school. I remember that day well. The doctor sat my parents and me down and gave me two options. Option one: I don’t have the surgery and my body holds out for a while longer, but I would be in a wheelchair in my 20s because my knees would give out, or, option two: I have the surgery and stay mobile for a longtime to come.

In the back of my mind, I knew that surgery was the right decision, that in order for me to be able to serve the Lord the way that I wanted, I needed the operation. So, my parents and I agreed on that course of action. It wasn’t easy. I certainly cried some as the reality of what lay ahead came into sharp focus. But it seemed, all along, that this was what I was meant to go through.

The doctor spent the remainder of the appointment explaining to me what to expect and what would happen. They first needed to reconstruct the arches in my severely flat feet. They then would move up the leg, where they would cut ‘z’s into my heel cords and hamstrings. All of this meant no weightbearing for six weeks.

Though difficult, the whole process seemed pretty cut and dry. Six weeks and I would be able to leave. There was something else that my family was facing though, something that I could not control. In 2005, my mom had been diagnosed with cancer and had been in and out of remission ever since. So, during those six weeks, not only did we have to worry about my health, but we had to juggle the wellbeing of my mom too.

It’s funny how, even though I was simply laying in bed for six weeks, those were some of the most taxing six weeks of my life. Not to mention the toll they took on my entire family. Working through the logistics of getting me to seminary in the morning and then from seminary to high school were an example of just how hard the process was.

Even though I was healing, not able to walk, and pretty helpless on my own, I still needed to go to school, and I still needed and wanted to attend seminary. To solve this conundrum, my Young Men’s leader and dear family friend would drive over to my house at around 6:30 a.m. every weekday morning and help my dad get me from my chair into our car so that I could go to seminary. I will forever be grateful for him and his sacrifice.

It was because of the ministering efforts and friends like him, and thanks to the tireless love and 24/7 care of my parents, sister, ward members and family that I made it!

That one surgery was not the end like we had hoped though. Unforeseen circumstances led to what ended up being four more surgeries in the span of six years. Surgeries to reconstruct the arches in my feet after they had collapsed again, fix a pigeon toe on my right foot, then on my left, and finally, to treat a surgical infection.

Each time this happened, I was sent back to square one. I spent six more weeks in bed. In fact, if you were to add up all of the time I spent in bed over that period, it comes out to about eight months. Words cannot express how hard that was for me. But that is also where I learned my first major lesson from Heavenly Father, a lesson that I carried with me into the mission field and beyond.

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During those six-week intervals, I learned the meaning of patience and, as President Russell M. Nelson put it so eloquently, thinking celestial.

At first, as I would see friends leave on their missions, I would think to myself, “I’ll be right behind them.” However, as time passed, those thoughts of optimism turned slowly into thoughts of self-pity and anger. I would often ask, “Why me?” I was doing this so that I could help the Lord. Why would he exact this price from me?

The person that fielded many of those questions was my mom. You see, at this point, she continued to battle cancer and was good enough to watch and take care of me during the day while my dad was at work and my sister was at school. We would have many long, heartfelt conversations where she would console me, but also impart wisdom. She helped me to keep that eternal view. During those days, we spent a lot of time together. Time that I would not trade for anything, because, as I came to find out not long after, the Lord knew why I needed to stay as long as I did. He was indeed blessing me even though I could not see it then.

Not long after my last major operation, my mom’s health headed downhill quickly. She passed away not long after I had begun and submitted my mission papers. Looking back, if I had left for my mission when I wanted to, I would have only got about three good months with my mom when I got home; instead, the Lord allowed me to have additional years with my mom.

The Lord is beyond good. He knows what each of His children need and looks for every opportunity to bless them. All we need to do is be willing to accept His guidance and go with it.

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I received my call a month to the day that my mom passed away. July 9, 2018. That night, I gathered with family and friends in my living room to read the letter that I had been working and wanting to receive for six long years.

“Dear Elder Guadagnin,” I read. “You are called to serve as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You are assigned to labor in the…”

Nebraska Omaha Mission!

Words cannot express how excited I was to read that.

I was often asked, “What did you think when you were called to Nebraska?” I think the people that asked me that question were often not prepared for the answer that I would give. Once I explained what it took for me to go and that all I wanted to do was serve, their countenance changed.

Ultimately, the reason for this podcast and blog is to do just that, serve and share. I am of the opinion that the Lord gives us challenges and trials in this life to mold and shape us into the people He wants us to become. That is true, but I think we have these experiences so that we can share them with and bless the lives of others.

There were many instances on my mission where I was able to draw on my experiences to help someone my companion and I were teaching. My experiences helped me to connect with them in a way that no one else could; just as the experiences of my companions helped others that I could not have reached.

As you listen to this, and subsequent episodes, I hope and pray that you will be inspired to push through and serve the Lord because there is someone out there that only you can touch.

Anything is possible.

“I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” (Philippians 4:13).

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To hear more about my mission, including stories in miracles, listen in the player above, or follow the show on Apple Podcasts and Spotify. New episodes drop every Monday.