I wrote this tonight about an experience I had at church yesterday...
I sat surrounded on the hard, metal chairs
at the rear of the chapel by my four, young daughters. The hushed, but busy
noises of families with small children surrounded us as our Bishop turned the
time over for the bearing of testimonies. My eight-year-old, Brynna, laid her head on my
shoulder and looking up at me with eager, blue eyes whispered “Mom, I want to
bear my testimony!”
I smiled at her and told her to go ahead.
My heart swelled in my chest as I watched her little, blonde head determinedly make
its way from the very back of the chapel, up to the pulpit for the first time.
I certainly was never as brave at that age. What she said made my heart swell
even more though. She stood in front of the congregation and peering over the
microphone said “I would like to bear my testimony that I know my family is
forever and I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.”
Of all the gospel principles she could
have born a simple testimony of, it touched my heart that this was the
principle in her heart and on her mind that day.
You see, my husband is inactive and has made the decision not to come to
church with his family anymore. So every Sunday I load the kids in the van,
find a row of empty, metal chairs and bring our daughters to church by myself.
It took a while, after his decision was
made, for sitting in Sacrament Meeting not to be a painful experience.
Surrounded by other families who had their husband or dad on their row with
them. While I was grateful, it hurt to have to ask my friend’s husband to give
my children blessings when they were sick or needing comfort, instead of having
a worthy Priesthood holder in my home to turn to. Many times I would find
myself sitting in the temple on Ward Temple Night, keenly aware that my “date”
wasn’t with me and wondering how my family’s situation translated on an eternal
perspective.
Though participating in church activities
usually meant my quiet sorrows were just under the surface, threatening to show
up in the form of hot tears I would try to fight back at the mention of
priesthood or eternal families, my commitment and resolve to staying active
myself and making sure our daughters were raised with a knowledge of gospel
principles sustained me. Slowly the pain of these situations eased as the joy
of the gospel filled in those sad and hollow places in my heart.
By continuing to come to church each week,
I was allowing myself to be reminded of Heavenly Father’s love for me. I was
reminded that He knows me and my situation personally. I was reminded that He
has plans for my life. I was reminded, as my daughter bore testimony, that my
family is forever. That if I
earnestly strive to be worthy of promised blessings, that Heavenly Father will
work miracles. Maybe those miracles will be in my heart, in the ability to
endure faithfully. Maybe they will be in my husband’s heart, in the desire to
nurture a seed of faith. Maybe the miracles will be in the lives of our sweet
daughters as they grow and their own faith is strengthened with the understanding
from a young age that a testimony doesn’t just happen, but is something that
must be worked for.
Whatever the Lord has in store for me, I
know it is what I need. I have faith in His plan and know my Father in Heaven also
desires my family to be a forever one. And I know that the realization of that
starts with me.