THE HELP I NEEDED
Lately, I've kind of been feeling alone.
Let me rephrase that. At times, I feel very alone.
Not because I don't have incredible support around me. Never could I ever deserve the many, many people I have in my corner. I am so grateful for the friends and family I have in my life. I owe them so, so much.
But they can't really help me with the trials I am currently facing. These are things that must be fought by just myself and my Savior, and I know together we can make it through.
However, sometimes it is hard to see our best ally beside us. The adversary is very good at blinding us, leading us to believe that we are truly wading through our storms alone and powerless.
No matter how much we cry out, no matter how honest we are with our inability to take just one step forward, it can sometimes appear that no one is listening. That our Savior has abandoned us at the most inopportune time.
I have felt this way often throughout the course of this hardship, and I cannot count the number of times I have found myself on my knees, begging for help. For aid. For relief. For someone to take the burden off of my shoulders, even if for a moment.
In the days leading up to last Wednesday, I had cried that prayer. I had cried that prayer hard, and had not yet felt it answered.
Overwhelmed and frustrated, I drove to the church to help the children in our congregation practice the song they would be performing the following Sunday. I had been looking forward to seeing them all week, but with added stress and weariness, I was having trouble plastering a smile on my face. Pretending everything was ok. Being excited about flashbacks to long choir practices.
Gathering strength in my car, I stepped out into the chilled evening air, waved hi to a fellow church-goer, and walked into the Primary Room.
And immediately, all stress was forgotten. The smile on my face was genuine and lasting. Joy felt sure.
I cannot count the number of times I was hugged that night. Or how many times I laughed. The silly faces I reciprocated, or how many times I looked around and just knew I was home. This is where I was supposed to be.
The highlight of the evening, no doubt, was when each and every child decided to challenge me to an arm-wrestling contest. No doubt because they knew they could easily take me, it felt nonetheless comforting as they grouped around us, chanting, "Ellie! Ellie!", seconds before my downfall. I still have the bruise on my arm, the twinkle in my eye, and the love in my heart.
Upon returning home, giggles and kid's voices singing the truths of the hymn still ringing in my ears, I was pulled up short by a thought in my mind.
"There's your help."
It does not shock me in the least that my aid came from the children whom I love so dearly. Of course, it came from them. But it has also come from many others in the past, friends and family and the words of the scriptures. I was just not in tune enough to see it. I focused on the pain instead of the peace.
This entire encounter brings to mind the plights of Sariah in 1 Nephi 5. Her sons sent back to where they had just come from, the place her prophet husband was told was bound to be destroyed, her worries and fears feel justified as the days wore on and on without their return.
As the trial drags, it becomes harder to believe, does it not? Becomes harder to focus on the promises of God?
Angry and complaining to her husband, a feeling I have always related to, I have no doubt she was asking for help. For her sons' safe return, and for a speedy journey at that. Reassurance. Perhaps a sign. The end of the worry.
None of these things came. Rather, her husband, Lehi, bore testimony of what he knew to be true. He spoke of the goodness of God, how He had blessed them time and time again, and how He would do so again. He spoke of the love he knew God had for him and his family.
"...yea, and I know that the Lord will deliver my sons out of the hands of Laban, and bring them down again unto us in the wilderness."
Lehi used the unchangeable characteristics of Heavenly Father and the Savior to comfort his wife. And eventually it all worked out.
The Lord did the same for me, that fateful Wednesday evening when I got my butt kicked over and over again by a bunch of eight and nine-year-olds.
Sometimes the trial can't end yet, it just can't. There are more lessons to be learned, more ways to grow, or sometimes, things just must be endured. Which sucks. A lot. But the Lord never leaves us alone in these hardships. He is always there. His promises are sure.
And, when we are having trouble seeing Him, He sends others. He inspires a text, a smile, a hug, an arm-wrestling contest to comfort us. To whisper to us that He is always there, to remind us that His love is never changing. That life is hard, but it is also good, and that it can be good again.
As always, He knows just the type of help to send us. We just need to be looking for it.
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