At different points in a person’s life, you sometimes reflect back on what has been done with it. As I think about the past, I remember former goals, ambitions, bitter failings, and the joyful victories that helped influence and shape me. When I think about my past, I remember a contest where the prize changed my life and revealed a surprise gift.

Throughout that first day of Vocational Agriculture (Vo-Ag) class, nine other classmates and I anxiously waited to hear about the Future Farmers of America, the leadership organization available to Vo-Ag students. When that time finally came, our instructor briefly explained about the many leadership conferences, contests, meetings, and opportunities that we could participate in.

“However,” he said, “To become a member, you must participate in the chapter creed speaking contest in which you will be required to say the creed from memory.”

I didn’t think that seemed very hard, until he showed us the 5 paragraph, 250-word “book” called the creed. My enthusiasm and self-confidence, as well as that of the others, sank to a very low level.

Then out of the group Rob declared, “I can do it!” Then Troy and Terry chimed in “Us, too!”

Feeling the spark of competition within the group, I vowed to myself that I would learn the creed by heart. When our instructor also informed us that not only could we go on to the district and state levels of competition if we won the contest, but the winner would also receive a trophy, and his regulation blue corduroy jacket and dues would be paid for. My family didn’t have a lot of money and Dad had already voiced concern over the cost of being a “FFAer”. The stakes were high for me and I was determined to commit that long anthem to memory. I would win this contest.

Since the contest was only two weeks away, I began to prepare for the important event shortly after I went home that day after school. By the time I had arrived home, my enthusiasm had started to sink once I realized the vast chore ahead of me.

I thought, “How can I memorize 5 long paragraphs and speak them in front of an audience when I have never done anything like that before?”

But I remembered that I wanted to join the FFA. I had heard a lot about the exciting meetings, conference, leadership training in Washington DC, and skills that would help be to grow. I realized that I had to do my best of I might not be part of any of it. Later that night I sat down at my desk with the creed in front of me. At first I worked on the beginning line, “I believe in the future of farming. . .” I tried the next line, and then the next. Throughout the next week I memorized a little portion of that long “book” each day. Every day when I woke up, I said the portion I had memorized, reciting it again and again.

When the final week before the contest came, I had the entire thing memorized. But my grasp on the sentences, word order, and everything else could just vanish without a trace. At Vo-Ag class, I quickly found out that I wasn’t the only one who had been practicing. Terry, Rob, and Troy were going to be fierce competitors. The rivalry among us made me want to win the contest more than ever.

Each day I could not wait to arrive home and begin my linguistic drills. I would repeat the creed over and over and practice using emphasis in my voice and gestures along with the voice. As I said each paragraph, I focused on the words, “I believe. . .” that began each paragraph and introduced the morals and principles that followed. Toward the final days nearing the contest, Mom, Dad, and my younger brother must have wondered who I was talking to when I was alone in my bedroom, but they probably knew that I was “preparing for battle” against my peers.

For the 10 of us in Vo-Ag class, the day of the creed speaking contest had arrived too soon. None of us would admit it, but we were nervous and waiting with at least a little dread for the contest that night. Waiting for the time of the contest, I felt “butterflies” – a whole migration of Monarchs that come each year from Mexico – in my stomach. At that point I wished I had another week to practice or a convenient rock to crawl under to hide.

That night at the school, I left my family and entered the Vo-Ag classroom. There, my classmates and I drew numbered pieces of paper from a jar to determine the speaker order. I drew last spot. “Oh, no!” I thought. “Now I will suffer the torture of just waiting and waiting my turn!” As time passed, and each of my classmates was taken from what we called “the holding room,” I paced the floor with nervousness, palms sweating. I wondered, “What if I mix the paragraphs up?” What if I even forget the creed?” When I was the last contestant waiting in the room, I tried to calm by repeating, “You can do it. You can do it. You CAN do it. YOU-CAN-DO-IT!” My chant seemed to help.

I saw my father watching me, and I saw him smile. “I believe in the future of agriculture. . .”

Then, I suddenly heard the faint sound of applause from the cafeteria where the contest was held. The door to the holding room suddenly opened and one of the contest escorts announced in a monotone, “You’re next.” Sound translated to me feeling electric shock. As both of us walked down the hallway to the cafeteria and its stage as my heart raced and my hands began to tremble. The only sound was our footsteps echoing in the silent hall as we approached the cafeteria door. The escort, opening the door, said “Good luck. Go get ‘em.” Wishing I could be 100 miles away, I walked through the doorway into a brightly lit room with what seemed a HUGE audience and I hesitated.

In that moment of hesitation before I began reciting the creed, time came to a screeching halt. My knees were weak, my heart pounded, and my throat became dry and tight. The silence during that tiny moment of pause was unbearable as I saw the audience waiting for me to speak. I knew that fainting was inevitable if I didn’t die first from not breathing. But in that split second that seemed to last forever, I saw my father watching me, and I saw him smile. “I believe in the future of agriculture. . .”

All of us in the Vo-Ag class were relieved to know that the “ordeal” of speaking the creed was finally over, or almost. Each of us was grateful, especially me, that it was behind us. But now a new tension set in: Waiting for the contest results. Waiting for the judges to return, the audience mingled, talking about the contest, congratulating or efforts, and enjoying the refreshments. My appetite had finally returned in time for one of the last frosted cupcakes.

When the judges entered the room with the “verdict” and a solemn as a trial jury, I felt my impending heart attack from anxiety set in. The Master of Ceremonies informed the audience that everyone had done a great job and that each performance was ranked in the categories of bronze, silver, and gold. I wanted to dispense with things and cut straight to results I could stop holding my breath. Then the Master of Ceremonies said, “And the bonze winners are. . .” I breathed a sigh of relief when my name was not called. I thought, “Could I actually have received a silver placing?” Then the silver winners were announced. I wasn’t among them. “Oh no!” I thought. “What if I didn’t place? They said everybody did well, but what if I barely passed and no award for me? I won’t be able to bear it if I didn’t at least place!” Then the words rang out, “And the two gold winners are. . .” Before it sank in that two of us were gold winners, I heard, “. . .is the winner of this contest and will represent this FFA chapter at the district level!”. Won? I actually won? I didn’t believe what I had heard until it was all over and people began to congratulate me.

Yes, I had won the chapter creed speaking contest. I went on to win at the district level and was the first person from my chapter to compete at the state level. There I won gold. That one contest made a difference. From there, I won countless crops, range, speaking, and agribusiness contests. I became a district FFA president and received the State Farmer Degree. Past college and into more than one job far removed from agriculture, I kept an old and worn copy of the creed in my wallet until it dissolved away, but remained in my mind.

The words “I believe” helped me to believe in myself and always try for higher goals. And as a surprise gift, years after my father has passed away, I can still remember his smile of encouragement and love that sometimes comforts me when times are slim. We all need something to believe in, whether it’s a cause, a set of values given to us by caring mentor or that we are on this planet for a purpose. Look for it. Find something that helps you to believe in yourself when nobody else is by your side. Take small, positive steps, to build small victories. Put together, they add up and give momentum for bigger triumphs in life.

~ Mason