HOLDING FAST

This blog was something I wrote at the end of a difficult, draining day. It came to me in the moment when I needed it most, and I hope desperately that it does the same for you. These words, these connections, these truths, I cannot take credit for them. They are not mine, they are His. This is Heavenly Father speaking to me, speaking to you, speaking to anyone who needs to remember just how incredibly loved they are, by both He and the Savior of the world.

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As my birthday approached this year, I found myself reflecting on the many wonderful presents I had received over my quarter century of life. Unfortunately, amidst the porcelain dolls and the many-colored-sneakers appeared one of the most abominable gifts I have ever received. A hamster.

Now, this animal acquiring such a title was of no fault to my parents. I had begged and pleaded for this little bundle of joy, and as the suckers they are, they caved and eventually got me Hamtaro. (I know, not the most clever of names. However, I believe it still beats out my brother's selection of Spike the First, Spike the Second, and Spike the Third.)

Hamtaro was indeed the worst pet known to man. (Congratulations, Lulu, you have not secured the top spot. Yet.) Along with possibly murdering some of her own spawn, she was an escape artist, a miniature dictator, and just plain mean. Let's present you with an example, shall we?

One morning, for reasons I can no longer recall, I was carrying Hamtaro's cage down the stairs. As I rounded the curve to begin my descent, Hamtaro saw my plump, child's finger pressed against the gaps in her cage walls, and went in for the kill. Yup, she bit me. Hard. Which, of course, caused me to scream quite loudly.

Immediately coming to the aid of her oldest child, years of practice allowing her to differentiate my cry from my brother's, I can still remember vividly what my mother said to me upon her arrival.

"I'm so proud of you for not letting go!"

Somehow, in a feat of strength that twenty-six-year-old Ellie no longer possess, seven-year-old Ellie managed to cling firmly to the cage, sparing the ground from a mess, and Hamtaro from an untimely death. (or, maybe that was my chance, and I missed it. I don't know.)

Somehow, in the odd recesses of my brain, a link to the gospel appeared in this just-missed-murder story. Are we not all young Ellie, at times? Aren't there times when living the gospel, being a disciple of Christ, just seems far too much to bear? Too much work, too many expectations, too many ways we can fail, miserably.

Attacks come from outside, and within. The words and comments of others, who, sometimes out of love, try desperately to convince us of our incorrect views, or of the many experiences we are missing out on by walking the covenant path. And, don't even get me started on the blows from our own minds. We are not good enough. We will never make it, anyway. We cannot do it anymore.

Living a life we hope Christ would be proud of can be hard, sometimes. Lot of times. Each of us have had moments where we feel it would be better to drop it and run, leaving our mess behind for someone else to clean up.

But, when we don't, when we choose to ignore the worries of others or the doubts in our own minds. When we work to hold fast to the things we know to be true, especially when things are just so dang hard, a quiet voice can be heard whispering in our ears.

"I am so proud of you for not letting go."

There is a beauty that comes from not giving up, from not letting the distractions of the adversary sway our view from the person who helps us to carry that heavy load in our arms. Testimonies are strengthened, blessings are received, and protections that we can not even begin to understand are set in place. Fears and questions are inevitable, but turning more towards Him, clinging tighter to Him, remembering what He says both to us and about us will allow us to exit the other side even more rooted in the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Now, let's take a second to alter the memory of my least favorite pet. Let's say, when Hamtaro maliciously attacked her owner, said owner dropped the cage, as she had every right to (thank you very much.). How do we think the girl's mother would have reacted?

Well, seeing as I know that angel sent to earth, I know exactly how she would have reacted. Lovingly, she would have put her arm around me, tended to my wounds, and helped me to clean up my mess. Never would she have expressed her disappointment that I had been unable to hold fast to the cage, but instead, would have calmly and sweetly reassured me, "Sweetheart, it's ok."

Now, she is going to kill me for even daring to make such a comparison, but is my mother's hypothetical reaction not exactly how the Savior would react? How He does react, when we feel we cannot carry our burdens anymore, drop them at His feet, and run? Does He gripe and grumble, irritated that He is forced to help us through the chaos we have created, when we don't even seem to want His help?

No. Never. That is not how the Savior of the World, operates. Lovingly, He puts His arm around us, tends to our wounds, and begins preparations to help us clean up our mess. He is never angry with us for walking away. No, Jesus Christ, who has suffered for each and every trial, heartache, or bite we endure, understands. He understands it all. Not only does He recognize our feelings, but He can comprehend the necessity of such trials. Through His all seeing eyes, He is able to see just what those hardships, those hidden miracles, can do for us.

So, patiently, He waits for us to return to His side, constantly sending out invitations to bring us back. And then, when we do return, He does not scold us with disapproval or disappointment. Instead, He holds us close and whispers, "Sweetheart, it's ok."

Because, whether we choose to hold on, or feel we need to let go, He always holds fast.