AN ADULT’S PRAYER

With dogs running around me, and worries pressed heavily against my heart, I cast my eyes up the sky. Begging, just begging for things to get easier.

We all have those trials, right? Those trials that we cry and pray and wish and plan away, but our efforts seem always for naught? Almost as if the hardship itself is content to play tricks on us, leading us to believe all is well, only to reappear when least expected. I hate those trying times, and yet, I am told life is riddled with them, so I guess I better buckle up and prepare for the ride.

Ok, so we all know I am not that kind of person. I’m a whiner, I’m a complainer, I’m a curser of my enemies (mostly Oakley), and most of all, I am weak. As I imagine the many adversities my ancestors suffered through, crossing snow covered land with tattered shoes and threadbare shawls, or fighting a war they were much too young to be part of, it becomes quite clear why I was not born during such times. However, it would have been nice if they had passed some of their determination and fervor onto me, would it not?

Alas, as I stood, staring up into the heavens, feeling as if the very weight of the world was crushing me, two things became very clear. One, I could not do this. And two, my prayers were not being answered. How many nights had I spent on my knees, pleading at first for the trial just to go away, but as I grew and matured, for understanding? For eyes to see, for some sort of guidance to wade through the waters whose sole goal it was to drown me?

Too many, that’s how many. And yet, here I was, my circumstances unchanged and unmoved. Except, perhaps, that things had gotten far, far worse, and my resolve had grown thinner and thinner.

“Are you even really there? Do you hear me at all?”

Those thoughts, those questions, reminded me of an experience that had happened just the week before, that had supplied indisputable answers to those exact wondering.

Yes, He is. And yes, He did.

The Sunday before my existential crisis, the first hour of our church had been dedicated to the Primary Program, a special event where the children of the church express what they have learned about Christ and His Gospel this year. It is everybody’s favorite Sunday of the year, you know, apart from the people who plan it. For us, (Of whom I am included this year. Again, a poor, poor decision) it is an undefined blur that passes by in stess, singing, and reminding children to please, please not bounce in their seats.

Seated on the floor, directing kids and whispering lines in their ears, my mind was not completely focused on the Spirit in the room. My thoughts directed towards the logistical side of things, I lost the true meaning of the meeting, to lead others to Christ. That is, until the very last song.

“A Child’s Prayer” by Janice Kapp Perry. I’ve yet to meet a person who does not have their heart stirred by the tender, calming truths spoken in it’s verses. The peace of the Savior comes alive in it’s words, creating a perfect lullaby to the soul, and reminding all just how loved they truly are. I needed those repeated messages that Sunday, when the Spirit nudged me and nearly brought me to tears. However, I needed them more the following week.

Buzzing with the memory of that perfect Sunday, I found myself again in my yard, the lyrics tumbling from my mouth, as they perfectly said what my heart could not speak. That’s right, in the middle of nowhere, a sky of stars stretched above me, and four dogs doing their best to ignore me, I sang a Primary song. And cried. (But, just a little. Remmeber, cold, black heart here.)

Pouring my soul out to the beautiful cloudless night above me, and letting the truth of the song overtake me, I could feel my Heavenly Father speaking to me, as He had so many times before. Because, He really does listen to all of our prayers, and He really does provide feedback. It is not always the answer we want, or in the timeframe we want, and rarely is it the perfect fix that would make the test go away. Rather, it is often the comfort that we are not alone, the reminder of His perfect, infinite love, the promise of better times to come, and the strength to carry on. (Even for a weakling like me).

He hears you, I promise He hears you. He hears us all, from the child to the adult, prayers never go unheard, ignored, or cast off. Flawlessly, He hears them all, and just as flawlessly, He provides the answers we need in that moment. Need, not want. That night, with the tears in my eyes perfectly mimicking the glint of the stars, I did not get a solution to my problems. I didn’t even get a timeline on how long it would last. Instead, to my child’s prayer, I recieved an adult answer. Peace, reassurance that He would be there every step of the way, and increased faith that all would work for my good.

Yup, I was basically told to wait it out, which, you know, is not exactly the answer I wanted. However, it was an answer, and an answer I know I can trust. Not just for this prayer, but for all of the prayers I will utter along the way. He answers them all, and that is enough to help me carry on.