To my friends of other faiths: As a devout member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, I often write about experiences I've had as a member of said church. The following is such an entry. When I refer to my "calling," I'm referring to service that we, as Mormons, feel is a "call" from God. Our church has a lay (unpaid) ministry and all members work together to meet the needs of the congregation. Our "callings" are extended by the priesthood leader of the congregation. A release from a call to serve is also extended by the priesthood leader who speaks for Heavenly Father. I'd be happy to answer any questions if you leave me a comment.
To my friends who are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, I'm posting this experience not to be boastful, (because as you will see, I was insecure and proud while Heavenly Father was teaching me) but because it was meaningful and reminded me again of how much The Savior loves all of us - how He can reassure us in the specific ways we long to be reassured, - how service can be so beautiful for the one trying to serve. (That's such a long run-on sentence that I'm breathless just writing it. And please, let's not even talk about how I'm actually supposed to punctuate it.) If you choose to comment, I'm not looking for pats on the back. I just wanted to share.
I’ll never forget the Sunday evening I was released from my calling as the Young Women’s President in our branch. I had served only eleven months and the release came as a complete shock. I’d expected to serve for three or four years. I had just returned from Girl’s Camp excited and happy and the news caught me completely off guard. I felt like I had not met the expectations of my priesthood leader and I was ashamed and sorrowful. My mind was flooded with the things I had not done as well as I would have liked. Soon after the Branch President left I knelt down in tears. I needed to know if the service I had rendered was acceptable. I knew I hadn’t been perfect but had I done what He wanted me to do in the short time I’d had? I had the distinct feeling that the release was part of Heavenly Father’s plan and that He was pleased with the small things I had been able to do. I felt comforted and grateful.
Over the next two days I reflected on the people I had spent my time and energy on. I thought about the twelve faithful girls I saw every Sunday and at mutual on Wednesday night. Just one week prior we had been together for a special evening at camp during which I greeted them as they reached the end of the “iron rod” and were led to the “tree of life.” It was powerful and profound.
I thought about my counselors and the things I’d learned from our successes and failures as a Presidency; the sometimes wonderful and sometimes difficult hours as four very different women worked together on the Lord’s errand.
I thought about Haley Wolton, my little less-active Beehive who had moved into our area just prior to receiving a double lung transplant. I remembered the first time she was well enough for me to visit her. Two of the young women from our branch came with me and when she asked us why she had been anointed with oil prior to receiving a priesthood blessing we told her about the atonement – how just as an olive releases its oil when pressed by a heavy weight, so the Savior’s blood came from His pores when the weight of our sins and sorrows pressed upon Him; how consecrated oil has healing power because it represents the Savior’s healing blood. I remember the way her hands trembled because of her medication as I looked into eyes that were steady and believing. As we left her home the two faithful young women who accompanied me kept exclaiming, “That was so cool! That was amazing!”
I thought about Teyha Bouchee and Sirena Yin, also from families who were not active in the church. I hoped Teyha would remember ice-skating with me on a cold January day or the day I brought a bag of gummy lifesavers to the door. I hoped Sirena would remember sitting across from me at the pizza parlor where she worked and talking about the future.
I thought about Tiffany Reeves, the high school Senior who physically recoiled when I introduced myself and told her I wanted to be her friend. I remembered cheering her on at her high school swim meet just after Christmas and how surprised and happy I felt when she came and sat beside me in the stands after her race was over. Later, when she was in a devastating car accident she knew she could look to me for support. I cherish the times my phone rings and it is Tiffany, just wanting to talk.
I thought about Ashleigh and Stacie Ballard, sisters without a mother who hadn’t been inside a church since they were little girls. I remembered one of the evenings they came to our house for dinner with their father and brother – the way Stacie, the oldest, had eaten only the diced up potatoes in her Mexican Chowder. I remembered the family home evening lesson when we made two pans of brownies – one with a recipe and one without – and talked about how much better things turn out when we follow the Lord’s plan. I remembered watching Ashleigh cheerlead at a junior high basketball game and that Stacie’s favorite snack was Cheez-It crackers. I doubted I would see those lonely girls again after their family moved to a large town an hour away and when I went to their house to say goodbye they had already gone. I was devastated that I hadn’t gotten their forwarding address.
Yet, in spite of these good memories and my Sunday prayer, the next days were spent fighting off feelings of frustration and sorrow and shame. I reminded myself of His answer again and again but I was so preoccupied with my own doubts that I couldn’t remember the feeling. A close friend and her husband, a member of the bishopric, felt inspired to drop by my home. Their family offered to help me with some projects around our new house. They swept and dusted and carried boxes but mostly they listened. I felt grateful for their inspired visit.
My husband, Jay, embodies the righteous priesthood leader who “reproves betimes with sharpness, when moved upon by the Holy Ghost.” Jay is never loud or angry. Rather, his “sharpness” is more like a surgeon’s scalpel, precise and careful. He was kind and honest when, after consoling me he gently suggested that perhaps my pride was standing in the way of my peace. I knew he was right and because of the quiet way he spoke his words didn’t sting when they sunk in.
That evening, on our way to a picnic with the missionaries, our family stopped at a drive-up pharmacy to pick up a prescription. As the pharmacist assisted my husband, who was driving, I noticed a group of teenagers crossing the parking lot in front of us. Suddenly, one of the girls left the group and hurried over toward our van. It was Stacie Ballard, in town visiting friends for the day! We hugged each other while her friends watched from a distance. I asked about her new home and her family and got her address and phone number. Then we hugged again and our family drove off in one direction and she and her friends walked in another. I sat very still in the passenger seat holding the paper with Stacie’s new address and feeling the love and reassurance of a kind Father in Heaven. My husband looked in my direction and quietly said, “Now do you believe that you’ve done a good job?” And I responded simply, “Yes.”
Looking back now I realize that both my call and my release were inspired. Five of the six less-active girls I befriended during that brief time either graduated from high school or moved away from the branch within a month of my release. Sadly, the sixth girl, my little friend Hayley passed away later due to complications related to her transplant. I didn’t know it at the time but those precious eleven months were all I had to show Heavenly Father’s love to six young girls. I am so grateful for the things I learned from them and from my Father during the time they were briefly in my stewardship.
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