Testimony of a Teenager

I have another dear friend (the second in as many weeks) whose daughter passed away Saturday night.  Sudden, tragic and heartbreaking.  Losing a child is such a devastating thing… My heart aches in empathy.  The pain is real and physical and oppressive.  I cannot imagine how her heart feels.

There were so many things that I wanted to tell her.  So much I had to say that just couldn't come out.  So much comfort I wanted to share but no words… I felt numb with sorrow.

As I sat at the carwash today, waiting, I opened Instagram on my phone.  Mind you that I do not have an account - it was logged into my 10 year old daughter's account.   As I scrolled thru the photos, I came across a picture of the Savior posted by a teenager we know, with a hash tag that said this,

"The Friday of the Savior's death was one of the darkest days in history.  The people mourned greatly for the loss of their Savior and all hope was lost; until Sunday came.  The glorious resurrection of the Savior brought joy and restored hope to everyone.  All of us will have Fridays… We will experience broken times and days full of sorrow, but Sunday will come.  The message of this wonderful Easter Season is that no matter how dark or how difficult our circumstances may be, Sunday will come!  The Savior loves each and every one of us whether you believe it or not.  He is there for you and He always will be.  Take the time this week to turn to Him and I promise you will feel of His love and His arms encircled around you." #becauseHelives

Such profound words from a teenage girl.  It was like medicine on a wound.  When had she written them?  Was she thinking of me?  Of my friend?  How could she have written all that I had in my heart that couldn't make it's way out?  Did she know she answered my prayers and gave me the words to give my friend?  Did she know she was God's instrument in delivering comfort?

I shared her words with my friend.  I couldn't even copy and paste them… I'm not that tech savvy.  I screen shot the post and just sent it as a text with a short explanation.

I'm not sure who received the most comfort from those words but I know their effect on me was profound.  That beautiful teenager used her social media for good - to testify truth.  And from her to the Instagram of my 10 year old, to me in a carwash, to my bereaved friend, her message moved thru this world blessing all those it touched.

Thank you Lindsay.

http://www.mormon.org/easter

Magnification of Good

Our family is participating in the Easter Pageant this year.  We tried out in October and were selected to participate.  We told our kids they could participate or hang out with their really cool grandparents for a month.  Grumbling and complaining, the teenagers agreed.  The grumbling continued until the first practice and there hasn't been a complaint since.  The Pageant has power.  I can testify of that.   My children have all different rolls from carrying baby lambs, to surrounding Jesus as he heals, to holding the water that Pilate washes his hands in.  They all have several parts and scenes and there is power in each scene.  

James and the two littles and I are in a scene called Jesus and the Children.  In the scene, Christ heals two children as the other children sing, "He is my Savior, my Redeemer, my friend".  It is beautiful and powerful and full of love.  The first night we practiced this scene, I felt the Spirit so strongly that I cried.  

When the practice was over, I took the littles home and James stayed to practice the Mob Scene.  We hadn't given it much thought - everything had been so amazing so far.  

When he came home that night, he was very sad.  He expressed how horrible it had been to be caught up in that scene.  Looking around at the men, who were clearly Pageant veterans and had been in the scene before, he felt frozen.  He said he couldn't do anything but watch and feel terrible.  He was supposed to revile the Savior and demand his crucifixion but he couldn't.  He said that it really drove home the love he has for his Savior.  They kept them after and gave them a debriefing (like treating someone for post traumatic stress I would imagine).  And comforted them.  They gave them specific instructions to leave that on stage and to move on when they exit the scene.  That was hard.  Emotions are real.  Even when you are acting.  Even when you are just watching.  

With repetition, the scene has become less painful for James and he has been able to move past the shock of it.

The last scene I want to mention, though I could write a post about every single one, is the scene when Mary Magdalene runs to the tomb and sings He is Risen.  It is beautiful.  I watch and listen and the words fill my soul.  I loved it the first time I heard her sing it and felt overcome with emotion.  I assumed that, just like the mob scene had lost some of it's impact on James, this scene would loose some of it's impact on me as I listen to it over and over and over.  But it hasn't.   Every time I hear it, it has more power over me.  It reaches farther into my soul and magnifies itself.

So maybe that is how good and evil are...  Evil, if repeated over and over, looses it's sting.  It looses it's horror.  Our Spirit becomes numb to it.

But good, if we continually consume it, magnifies in us until we can hardly contain it.

Homebase, Heartbreak and Hope

Springbreak has come and gone and left me with several beautiful moments I will always remember.

The first was Wednesday, I took the kids to Jumpstreet to burn off some of their energy.  I checked them in and went to the back to find a semi-quiet place to read my book.  My kids had long since run off and left me to join a game of trampoline dodgeball.  As I settled in, here came Colby - "Hey mom. Whatcha doing?  Ok - bye" and off he went.  Then Ivy - "Hi, why are you back here?"  I didn't have the heart to tell her that it was in hopes of being able to read my book undisturbed...  She plopped down next to me touched my arm and grinned and danced away.  Then came Dalton - sad he had unjustly gotten tagged out of the dodgeball game - "Mom..." and the story of the unfairness emerged as he climbed up in my lap.   A hug and kiss and off he went.  Moments later, Colby rounded third base and slid into home base again - all hot and sweaty to tell me he and his friend were having fun.  Then Dalton and Ivy together.  Tagging the me in unison.  Watch this!  Watch me!   Round and round they went.  Play, sweat, run back to mom.  Run, play, get a drink and tell mom what they just did.  Then repeat.  I officially read 2 paragraphs in 90 minutes.  But as I sat there, I realize how much I love being home base for my kids.  The place they run to to be safe.  To be seen, heard, loved, consoled, listened to and cared for.    Sometimes I am not only home base but the umpire too.  But I'd take that any day to always be their home base.

A few days later we attending the wedding of the oldest daughter in the Coon family.  They looked radiant and so very happy.  It was beautiful  - dancing, sparklers, cookies and friends - we were joyous and happy all evening.

On the way home, I got a series of text informing me that the daughter of a dear friend had just been tragically killed in an off roading accident.  We drove the rest of the way home in devastation.  Sad to the core.  Shocked and heartbroken.  The reality of it all couldn't even sink in.  We drove home, gathered our children and mourned.  The next morning, it was like it had been a nightmare only to wake and realize it wasn't.  It was real.  The heartache was magnified as we prepared for church and the reality that our sweet friend would not be there.   As we sat in church, our emotions very near the surface, in walked the family of the girl who had passed.   I saw them and wept.  Such courage.  Such devotion.  Such heartache.  She had passed only hours before - they must have been up most of the night.  With swollen eyelids and visible injuries on two siblings who had been with her in the accident, they took their seat and allowed us to mourn with them.

At the close of the meeting, our stake president stood and asked if we would all kneel for the closing prayer and asked the Bishop to offer it.  As the closing hymn ended, everyone kneeled where they were and we prayed for their family, for peace and comfort, for others whose pains we are not so aware of, and for healing of the pains of loss.  What a spiritual moment.  United, we mourned with those that mourn.  It was beautiful.  A different kind of beautiful - but beautiful.

After the prayer, I made my way back to my friend and as I waited to give her a hug and love,  I saw her husband.  I told him, "Thank you for coming, what an example you are to all of us".  And he looked me in the eye and said, "Of course we come Sister Johnson.  It's true - that's why we come."  

I turned to hug my friend and said how sorry I was, and that her daughter was such a light to us all.  Hardly able to even lift her head, she told me, "Tricia, God could have taken 3 of my babies last night and he only took one!"  I'll never forget their courage and strength - in the darkest moment that they have probably ever experienced, there they were - testifying of God's truth and mercy to us! We are supposed to "mourn with those that mourn and comfort those that stand in need of comfort" but to my surprise, THEY were mourning with me and comforting me as much as I was with them.  What a beautiful moment.

Immediately following the meeting, I had to go teach my class of 10 year olds - who are super awesome by the way.  Unable to compose myself, we took a walk around the church before we started our lesson.  The lesson was on prayer from the book of Matthew in the Bible.  I had brought my Karl Bloch picture of Jesus being comforted by the angel as he pleadingly asked God if it be Thy will, remove this cup from me - but not my will but Thine be done.  Even the Savior had to go thru things that seemed too hard, too big, too painful for even Him to overcome.  Like the Savior, sometimes we have to walk a road that seems to full of pain to endure but the greatest gift we have, the atonement, came from His suffering.  And though this family's pain seems unimaginable to me, I can already see the lives that have been touched, changed, improved because of the way they have handled their trial.  Well done my friends.  Well done.  You not only shared your heartbreak with us, but you shared your hope and happiness in the Savior and his goodness.

In the words of a good man, "It's true.  That's why we come".  That's why we do what we do.  That's why we hope.  That's why we believe.