I am "the one".

Written Sunday, May 25, 2014:

In this moment, I just realized I have an opportunity to better understand what partaking of the sacrament can (and should) mean to me--as I sit in this Children's Hospital and watch my daughter struggle to breathe.  

For many terrifying, never-ending minutes this morning, Charlotte's eyes closed and she became completely unresponsive.  Thankfully, although her breathing was labored she was still breathing.  Yet, she would not respond to voices or people rubbing her body in an effort for her to stir.  Not even when nurses sat her up did she open her eyes.  Not any inkling of acknowledgment that she was being pestered, poked, prodded.  Her body was limp and she would not wake up.  Before I knew what was happening, three doctors and several nurses including a respiratory therapist were in the room all working together to help Charlotte.  They crowded around her bed and I worried that my desire to be close to my daughter was actually getting in the way.  Panic begin to invade my heart as I knew Charlotte was in trouble and needed help. I also felt completely useless as there was obviously nothing I could do, aside from calling to her with a trembling voice.  "Charli, wake up.  Charli, open your eyes and look at Mama."  Doctors and nurses rattled stats back and forth, and even though I could tell they were concerned almost as much as I was, they seemed to somehow have order in the chaos of the moment.  The respiratory therapist finally stated loudly that they should not delay any further the suction treatment as her respiratory rate was becoming more labored despite her limp composure.  Each medical professional gave their concurrent permission and the respiratory therapist began to suction Charlotte's lungs.  

I think under normal circumstances I'd have fought back feelings of Mama Tiger as the catheter was threaded down my child's throat, and the sounds of sickening mucus filled the room.  However, in this case I was incredibly thankful as this unpleasant intrusion seemed to snap her from her lethargic state.  Her eyes opened wide in panicked surprise and she began to cry.  What relief filled all our hearts!  Obviously, she was frightened to suddenly see so many people over her.  Standing at the foot of her bed, I began  to talk to her and told her: "Mommy's right here.  I'm right here.  Mama stays with Charli.  It's going to be okay."  Knowing if she looked at me I needed to appear strong and unafraid, I fought everything within me that wanted to crumple to the floor in a sobbing mess.  I knew seeing me like that would only alarm her more, so I took deep breath and held it in.  

Later, once she was stable and out of immediate danger, the exhaustion from three sleepless nights and the stress of the situation hit me.  Brett came through the door twenty minutes later and of course, seeing my rock, my best friend -- all I could do was let him hold me as it all came out.  While he held me and also cried over his beautiful girl, I noticed out in the hallway two priesthood brethren bringing the Sacrament to hospital patients.  Earlier in the day, I'd wanted to attend the hospital LDS services at 10:30.  But as the hour drew closer, Charlotte was struggling more and more, and naturally I felt I could not leave her.  I had been disappointed not to attend, since I recognized that at this particular time I was more than ever in need of the strength receivable from renewing heavenly covenants.  Seeing these men, I asked Brett to wave them in.  

I expressed my desire to partake of the sacrament and they kindly began to prepare, asking the nurse if she had a plate available for them to use.  She did not, and so they settled for a white napkin.  Somehow that seemed more appropriate -- as though viewing the offering on clean, white "linen" more naturally resembled what our Savior would have offered, had He been there in person.  Foolishly thinking I had my tears under control, my eyes betrayed me and I wept through the prayers that were made solely on my behalf that Sunday afternoon.  I was not alone--even the nurse cried with me as she held onto my baby's little fingers.  

Something stirred within me to see a single piece of bread resting on a white napkin in the palm of the brother's hand, the sacrament cup held by the other brother.  To hear the sacrament prayers being said over one solitary serving at this symbolic partaking emphasized to me the importance of "The One".  The significance that we have to our Father in Heaven.  We ARE "the one" that He leaves the ninety-and-nine for.  WE each are "the one" that young Priesthood holders pray for each Sunday.  

Partaking of that ONE piece of bread, and internalizing that ONE cup of water confirmed in my heart that the Sacrament Ordinance is truly of God.  It is FROM Him, FOR Us.  It is for all of His children, but more importantly it is for us individually.  A witness of His love, His sacrifice, and His companionship came into my heart.  I drew strength from hearing those sacred prayers, knowing I could repent of the mistakes I make and in return always have His spirit to be with me, which I needed so much more that day than usual.   It was a beautiful experience born from a morning filled with anxious, heartfelt pleading that my baby would be watched over.  She was, and so, I discovered, was I.

the look of hope...

I can't get over the feeling I had when I first saw this painting by Liz Lemon Swindle. Immediately your eyes are drawn beyond the movement of the apostles to the look in their eyes. It is the expression on their faces that Liz Lemon Swindle chose to use as the title of her masterpiece: "HOPE". It stirs within me my own feelings for my Savior. My own hope that I can live my life in a way that is pleasing to my Heavenly Father. That as I utilize the atonement in my life, to right my wrongs and heal my hurts, I will earn a seat at His table and live with Him forever. I love what Ms. Swindle wrote about what inspired her to paint this image:

When Mary came to the tomb, she found the stone rolled away and the tomb empty. She ran to the disciples crying, "They have taken away the Lord…and we know not where they have laid him" (John 20:2). Peter and John immediately ran to the tomb.

What did they think as they ran? Were they simply curious to see for themselves? Did they fear, like Mary, that their enemies had stolen the body? Or did they remember His promise, "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up"?

The decision that faced Peter and John that Sunday morning is the same decision that faces each one of us today. Will we doubt? Will we hope? Or will we know that He lives? I know that He lives.

And so do I. This Easter weekend I desire to shout from the mountain tops that I know my Savior loves me, understands me, died for me, and lives for me!

"How great, how glorious, how complete,

Redemption's grand design,

Where justice, love, and mercy meet

In harmony divine"

i might not have much to offer, but it is enough.

This week at Youth Conference, each morning we started our day with scripture study and a discussion about what we had read in the second chapter of 2nd Nephi. (One might recognize that chapter from their seminary days, as a well-known scripture mastery can be found in verse 25: "Adam fell that men might be: and men are, that they might have joy.") Much of this chapter addresses the fall, opposition in all things. But it also speaks a good deal of our redemption, which is through the Holy Messiah, Jesus Christ. After we read, one of the young men leaders made a comment that struck me. He referred to the idea that salvation is free unto all. And while it is in a sense, we do pay a price: our effort and our faith. Despite what we are asked to pay, the blessing of the Lord's plan is that we can all afford it.

Verse 7: "Behold, he offereth himself a sacrifice for sin, to answer the ends of the law, unto all those who have a broken heart and a contrite spirit..."

The mercy and unconditional love of the Atoning sacrifice of Christ is available to all who are willing to offer in return a heart filled with genuine remorse and a sincere commitment to improve. The Lord has not asked anything of us that we cannot afford to give. I found that comforting to know...I might not have much to offer, but if I do it willingly, "believing in Him", I shall be saved. I can do that, and that's an empowering knowledge to have. It reminds me of the story of the Widow's Mite (Mark 12:41-44). How grateful I am this Sabbath morning to my Savior, that He would accept my meager offering and in return grant me eternal life and happiness.

This talk was my favorite of G.C. I'll *never* think of the Atonement or Easter the same way again. Pause the playlist down on the right & watch.

What I learned from Elder Holland's insight, what I felt, has changed my understanding of the Atonement of Jesus Christ forever. I'm grateful for my faith, and for the confirmation I have personally received through prayer, bearing witness to me that this gospel is right and true. Isn't it great that we don't have to "take anyone's word for it"--that we can know for ourselves if it is truly from our Heavenly Father simply by sincerely asking Him?