Four years ago, when the bishop announced during sacrament meeting that a new bishopric would be sustained the next Sunday, I almost ran screaming from the chapel in terror. For several months I’d been shrugging off the premonition that a bishopric call was coming to my husband, and my husband had seemed to sense something coming, too, as he was pondering and praying more, and pouring over his patriarchal blessing—an ominous sign, I thought. It seems silly now, but at the time I was truly afraid. Because, unbeknownst to just about everyone except the Lord, my husband, and a few close friends (yes, I can keep up a capable facade), I had just recently surfaced from a long bout of depression and anxiety, and I still was feeling shaky and bruised and fearful of any change or disruption to the life I’d so carefully held together. So when those premonitions came, I pleaded with the Lord to be mindful of my emotional struggles and our family situation and begged Him call someone else to the bishopric, just in case.
Imagine my fear, then, when the bishop made that fateful announcement. Later that day, as I was changing out of my dress and tights, heart still pounding with dread, I told myself that we just had to get through that week without getting a phone call from the stake president’s office, and then we’d be home free. I’m embarrassed to admit that I actually toyed with the idea of taking the phone off the hook—for the rest of the week, for the rest of our lives. I felt like Jonah—or, more accurately, Jonah’s wife—wanting to encourage my husband flee to Tarshish instead of obediently sending him to Ninevah (not that our ward was Ninevah, but you get the idea). Sure enough, later that night the dreaded phone call came, confirming what I’d known and feared all along: it was the stake executive secretary, asking my husband and me to meet with the stake president the following Wednesday evening.
The next few days were exquisitely painful as I cried, begged the Lord not to do this to us—to me—and poured out my worries to my poor husband, who was struggling himself to face the impending call. Added to my fear was the guilt I felt for selfishly focusing on my own concerns and not giving my husband the support he needed. Why was I so weak, so lacking in faith? Did I actually want to hold my husband back from his own progression, from serving the Lord? Luckily I had enough sense to ask my husband for a blessing that Sunday night, and in the blessing I was assured that the Lord was acutely aware of our situation and mindful of our needs, and was lovingly giving both of us an opportunity for growth. And then I was promised that the Lord would provide a new heart for me so that I would be able to accept—even embrace—this change in our lives.
Over the next few days I thought about this phrase—a new heart—often. A new heart was exactly what I needed, and, as my husband and I talked and prayed together and attended the temple, that new heart started to grow as I received whispers of insight and comfort. Rather than feel condemned for my inadequacies, I felt understood and loved. I realized that the Lord had been tenderly preparing us for this calling for months, that He knew me intimately. And I remembered that He’d always helped me do hard things. I thought about when I was preparing to go on a mission; I’d actually told the Lord I’d go anywhere He wanted me to go except for South America…..and then I was called to Peru. And though I’d been terrified, I’d accepted the call and had ended up loving my mission. I remembered other hard tasks I’d initially shrunk from, but in each case I’d been strengthened and ultimately made equal to the task. Gradually, during those three days, I went from feeling afraid and unwilling to feeling a little less afraid and wanting to do the Lord’s will. And somehow my pleas changed from, “Please don’t make me do this” to, “Help me do this.”
That Wednesday night as we met with the stake president and my husband was called to be a counselor in the bishopric, I was still shaky and scared, but resolved and willing, as I told the stake president of my recent struggle with depression and worried aloud about my ability to cope with my husband’s demanding calling. I received empathy and kindness, and more reassurance that the calling was inspired, and promises of help and support from the Lord as I supported my husband. And in the days and weeks that followed, though I had to make adjustments, we were blessed—I was blessed—as we entered a new phase of growth and change. And, somewhere along the way, my weak and doubting heart was remade.
Have you ever struggled with accepting a calling or supporting your spouse in a calling? What blessings came as a result of that calling? How has the Lord helped you do hard things?
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