WHY I’M HERE

“We all came to church today for different reasons, but what unites us is the opportunity to partake of the Sacrament and renew our covenants with Him.”

I was hearing the speaker’s words. I understood them, agreed with them, and had my own reason for being at church that beautiful Sunday morning.

“Please, please let somebody notice I am drowning.”

The past few months have been incredibly difficult ones for me. I’m not sure if it was my twenty-ninth birthday that put the wheels in motion, or just this confusing stage of life that doesn’t really feel like it has a purpose, but whatever the cause, anxiety has been the result.

Apart from right after my Grandpa J died, I’ve never suffered with anxiousness at this level before. I feel like I’m a person who tends to be a worrier, but never felt that I had the medical condition of anxiety. After this last season, I feel sincerely sorrowful for people who do. I cannot imagine how you beat it day in and day out. You are incredible.

So, carrying this before-experienced weight around with me, I waited and waited and waited for this moment to pass. Never had an anxious season lasted more than a few weeks, and I knew eventually it had to come to an end.

Until it didn’t. Until it lasted for an eternity. Until things progressed for the worse instead of the better. Until I could not see a light at the end of the tunnel.

So, that wonderful Sabbath Day, sitting in a pew with my leg bouncing and tears streaming down my face, my reasons for being there directly aligned with what the speaker had stated. I was there to connect with Christ, but I was also there in hopes that someone would be His hands for me that day.

That snot-covered prayer came to fruition, ten-fold.

Upon entering the building, a kind woman gathered me in her arms and asked, “How’s my favorite turkey?”.

While just trying to make it through the first meeting, my mom reached across the pew to give my arm a squeeze and ask me if I was alright.

Later, when the meeting ended, she pulled me into a hug I desperately needed, even if it brought more tears.

Some friends asked me what my Thanksgiving plans were.

A little girl walked up to me with an envelope she had made herself, explaining, “This is for you, Sister Ash.” Inside was a beautiful Christmas drawing made just for me.

A little short staffed in Primary that day, so many people joined hands to help out, including a little girl who proudly bore her testimony of Christ with soft giggles and a wide smile.

A friend told me I was doing a good job when it was very clear I wasn’t 😂

One of my sweet little friends in a green dress with pearls kept her eyes on me the whole time we were singing, worry and concern evident on her face.

I had the opportunity to chat with a friend as we watched a little boy draw scribbles all over the chalkboard.

The children, without being asked, began folding up chairs and stacking them along the wall after the meeting was over.

My father gave me a blessing of comfort to help me through the panic attacks that were plaguing me.

See? Ten-fold. I was surrounded by extra love that day, and in the days to come, when I needed it most. The people around me acted as the Savior did at a pivotal moment in my life, one where I truly felt I was sinking beneath the waves.

To honor that, on the day after Thanksgiving, I must proclaim that I am so grateful to them. I’m grateful for the people that love me. I’m grateful for a Father in Heaven that answers prayer. I’m grateful for the Gospel, that teaches me who sustains me in my times of need. I’m grateful for my Savior, and the way He watches out for me. I’m grateful that He knows what each of us are going through, and sends the help we need most.

I’m grateful to know the reason why I’m here will always be fulfilled by Him.