Sometimes I wonder.
There is a song that repeats in my head a lot. Here's a fabulous version of it. It will make your heart sing, I promise.
So, you see, sometimes I wonder: Have I done any good in the world today?
I feel like the answer would be YES.
I sure hope so.
Yesterday, I went and sat on the stand with a wonderful friend of mine, who became too scared to give her talk in sacrament meeting. She started her talk, and as she did my heart got to pounding so hard it hurt. She couldn't bring herself to do it. With tears streaming down her cheeks, fear boiled up in her, chocking off her words, until silence and embarrassment took over, and she sat back down, and her dear husband took over.
With my heart still thumping, I got the strongest impression: GO SIT WITH HER. I didn't hesitate. I scooped Brooklyn up, and started towards her. I only wondered briefly what everyone else would think of me going up there.
Instead of dwelling on those thoughts, my thoughts became these: Who cares. I'm not afraid of sitting up here, and perhaps I can be of some comfort to her. I don't want her to sit there alone, and I knew how I would feel if it were me. Half, if not all of the congregations' attention will be diverted to me. Yikes. What was I thinking?
As soon as I sat down by her, we exchanged a few whispered words. She seemed to calm down. I watched her baby, who cooed quietly in her car seat and rocked her with my foot, while I held Brooklyn on my lap, and used my left hand to reassure my friend several times.
I don't blame her, for wanting to leave, to escape to the halls of the chapel. I would have. Instead she steeled her nerves, and we sat there together.
After her husband wrapped up his talk, she had regained strength, courage even. I was leading the music that day, substituting for a friend, and we sang an intermediate hymn. My heart started to pound again as my friend stood up to the microphone. She started her talk again.
When she finished it, I heard myself silently cheer for her. In the face of fear, she showed courage, determination and resilience. She didn't cower or say NO, I WILL NOT FINISH. I'M NOT DOING THIS. Instead, she did finish, and I thought of that scripture:
Matt. 25: 21 His lord said unto him, Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.
As we sang the closing song, I got another impression. I knew I had listened to the Spirit the first time. I hadn't had to be told more than once what to do and I did exactly what the Savior would have done, had He been in the audience. I fought off tears as I watched the Primary children light up at knowing the closing song. Many little faces beamed back at me, singing I am a Child of God. The Parker twins, Logan Thompson, the Gibson children, my children. All smiles and singing. What a tender mercy!
I felt no concern as to what my ward friends thought. Worry washed away completely, as two wonderful women who were in the congregation later told me of their gratitude that I went and sat by our nervous friend.
There is a song that repeats in my head a lot. Here's a fabulous version of it. It will make your heart sing, I promise.
I feel like the answer would be YES.
I sure hope so.
Yesterday, I went and sat on the stand with a wonderful friend of mine, who became too scared to give her talk in sacrament meeting. She started her talk, and as she did my heart got to pounding so hard it hurt. She couldn't bring herself to do it. With tears streaming down her cheeks, fear boiled up in her, chocking off her words, until silence and embarrassment took over, and she sat back down, and her dear husband took over.
With my heart still thumping, I got the strongest impression: GO SIT WITH HER. I didn't hesitate. I scooped Brooklyn up, and started towards her. I only wondered briefly what everyone else would think of me going up there.
Instead of dwelling on those thoughts, my thoughts became these: Who cares. I'm not afraid of sitting up here, and perhaps I can be of some comfort to her. I don't want her to sit there alone, and I knew how I would feel if it were me. Half, if not all of the congregations' attention will be diverted to me. Yikes. What was I thinking?
As soon as I sat down by her, we exchanged a few whispered words. She seemed to calm down. I watched her baby, who cooed quietly in her car seat and rocked her with my foot, while I held Brooklyn on my lap, and used my left hand to reassure my friend several times.
I don't blame her, for wanting to leave, to escape to the halls of the chapel. I would have. Instead she steeled her nerves, and we sat there together.
After her husband wrapped up his talk, she had regained strength, courage even. I was leading the music that day, substituting for a friend, and we sang an intermediate hymn. My heart started to pound again as my friend stood up to the microphone. She started her talk again.
When she finished it, I heard myself silently cheer for her. In the face of fear, she showed courage, determination and resilience. She didn't cower or say NO, I WILL NOT FINISH. I'M NOT DOING THIS. Instead, she did finish, and I thought of that scripture:
Matt. 25: 21 His lord said unto him, Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.
As we sang the closing song, I got another impression. I knew I had listened to the Spirit the first time. I hadn't had to be told more than once what to do and I did exactly what the Savior would have done, had He been in the audience. I fought off tears as I watched the Primary children light up at knowing the closing song. Many little faces beamed back at me, singing I am a Child of God. The Parker twins, Logan Thompson, the Gibson children, my children. All smiles and singing. What a tender mercy!
I felt no concern as to what my ward friends thought. Worry washed away completely, as two wonderful women who were in the congregation later told me of their gratitude that I went and sat by our nervous friend.
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