THE GREATEST GIFT

I want to preface this blog by saying this:

It has a happy ending.

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A few weeks ago, I came to one of the scariest points in my life.

During a scripture study, I was presented with a question such as this, "Do you have a testimony of your Savior, Jesus Christ?".

Having been asked this question before, several times in fact, I was stunned to find that the answer was no longer what it used to be.

No. I don't.

The reality of how I had just mentally answered the inquiry did not hit me all at once. I think I tried my best to ignore it, going about my tasks and pretending the incident hadn't occurred. If I waited long enough, perhaps my current worries and beliefs would fade quietly into the background.

They did not.

One Sunday, after a normal, wonderful church service, the weight of it all came crashing down until I couldn't carry it any longer.

I didn't believe in my Savior. I didn't believe in my Heavenly Father. I wasn't sure I believed any of it anymore.

Numb, gut-punched, fearful and angry, I ran to the one person who I knew could help me. My mother.

Collapsing on her bed where she had been, of course, studying her scriptures, she finagled my burdens out of me. I knew I needed to talk about it, but I still did not entirely want to face it.

I am so, so grateful the Lord urged me forward. Encouraged her to continue asking. Prompted me to speak, even if that meant attacking Him. Because that is what I did.

Furious at some of the situations I found myself surrounded by. Enraged at the fact they had lasted far, far longer than was necessary. Indignant that no matter how many prayers were offered, the issues refused to be resolved. I blamed it all on the Lord that wasn't there.

"If He was really there, this would not be happening. If He really loved me, He'd take it away. I don't know how He can be here, in this."

My mother, bless her soul, remained brave in the face of my words. My bitterness. My anger. She could not be swayed, although she did not judge me for my viewpoint, either. Rather, she looked to me with love in her eyes, and boldly stated,

"I know this is true, Ellie."

I didn't know what to do with that. Because, beneath my cloak of anguish and betrayal, I knew He was there, too. I felt He was real, deep, deep down.

What I no longer believed was that He loved me. How could He love me, if this was my life? How was this, all of this, an expression of love?

It wasn't, in my mind.

However, just like the Stripling Warriors in the Book of Mormon, my mother's words had affected me. Her simple testimony wormed its way through the armor of fury I was soddering in place, and touched my heart.

Alma 56: 48

48 And they rehearsed unto me the words of their mothers, saying: We do not doubt our mothers knew it.

The hardships of the last few years? I have not endured them well 😂 I've gotten by with the scraps of my testimony I could cling to, but I am not going to win any awards for my faith. No odes will be written about my example, and those around me will not be able to say, "she had such poise through that trying season."

Nope. No way. I made it through, and that was it.

And along the way, I developed a skewed view of my Savior and Heavenly Father. Looking back now, with clear eyes and refined vision, I believe my perception of Them may have always been degraded by my constant friend, perfectionism. However, as my world spun out of control, and I tried to clamp down harder on the parts that I thought I could harness, my understanding of my Savior and Heavenly Father became even more tainted.

As I failed over and over and over again, I began to believe that this is how They saw my life, as well. A giant failure. I developed habits that led me to believe everything I was doing was wrong. Upon making a decision, my default opinion was that I had made a wrong one. Every time, in the simplest of choices, I was always coming up short. I was always letting Them down. They were always mad at me. They were always upset with me. They always wished I could just be better.

My mother constantly tried to reassure me that such was not the case, and I believed her. At least, I believed her when she applied those truths to others. Not me.

As the trials I was buckling under stretched on and on and on, I started to feel that not only did My Savior not like me and not approve of me, He must not have loved me, either. Because if He loved me, if He and my Father in Heaven gave even an ounce of care about me, They would have taken the challenges away, right?

I mean, They have that power. This is the Creator of the World we are talking about! He conquered death! He suffered for all sins, and won! There is nothing He cannot do.

And yet, He was choosing to let me suffer. He was continually watching me break, build myself up shorter than I was before, and crumble again.

The God I served must have been an unloving, vindictive, heartless one. One who watched His children from on high, feeling no need to interfere. Whether they lived or died, were at the last of their strength, or found any joy in life at all, He did not care.

He did not care. I just knew it. He did not love me.

Remember what I said about my mother's words? I cannot remember the exact day or time, but they started to undermine what I thought I knew.

Because despite it all, she knew. She knew that her Savior loved her. Despite her longer life filled with far more challenges than my own, she chose to believe. She chose to let the fact that the Savior had opted to suffer in her behalf, to experience her exact pains and afflictions, change her. Comfort her. Sustain her.

While I did not. I found no comfort in those sentiments. Until I started to believe, like her. Until I started to act in faith, and trust that He loved me.

When I began to trust the whisperings of the Spirit, the ones that told me I couldn't possibly be doing everything wrong? The ones that told me I'd be loved even if I did? The ones that reminded me I didn't have to earn my worth in my Savior's eyes, it was already there? The ones that proved that His sacrifice was real and lasting and could make an impact on my life? The ones that taught me to believe that the Lord could and would work everything for my good? The ones that showed me I was loved, that told me to clasp onto the hope of that statement with everything I have?

Those truths, those things I now know to be true, have changed me forever.

Why? Because He loves me. He loves me.

That unarguable statement is the greatest gift He has given to me, and He has given me so, so many.

A mother I could never, ever deserve. One who guides me even when her own load is so, so heavy.

Hardships that turned me to Him, that refined my testimony far more than placid waters ever could. Peter's words in 1 Peter 1:7 are so, so true.

A relationship with Him and my Heavenly Father. I'm realizing that I've spent my whole life dodging Their love.

Freedom. Freedom from sin. Freedom from sadness and anger and despair.

Because, I think that was the tipping point. When I decided I was done with living at rock bottom? When wallowing became annoying and too much to bear? That is when the light of Christ could shine through. That is when the gift that is the hope He offers could finally change me, after years and years of His efforts. He never, ever gave up on me, and at last, His labors have borne fruit.

I was truly worried this Christmas Season would not be able to break through the guard I had placed around my heart. No longer. The joy we sing of, the light that radiates out of those who know, and the relief and awe that comes with God's greatest gift to us? I feel it all.

I know, now. I know He loves me. I know what a gift that is, because my life is so, so much better with Him at the center of it. I could never repay Them for this, and every gift, They've given me.

My only my hope is to spare someone pain, as my mother did, by sharing my testimony.

I know Christ loves us. I know Heavenly Father loves us. I believe it, now. I understand the pure elation that comes from knowing. Such knowledge can change even the blackest heart. I know that They are with us through it all. I know that holding to that truth gives one power. I know that my life is so, so much better because of my grasp on these things. Because of the gift of Their love.