Today’s guest post comes from Michelle F. Michelle is a full-time mother of two little boys and a part-time voice teacher. She has an English degree with a theater minor from BYU and lives in Provo, Utah. She sings like an angel and served a mission in Bulgaria, where her mother was born.
It happened again. We were teaching Tanya a second discussion in her tiny apartment, and she corrected my companion, Sister Harper. I shot Sister Harper what I hoped was a supportive and comforting “I’m-sure-your-verb-tenses-are-just-fine” look, but she didn’t appear bothered at all. I was, of course, supremely pleased that no Bulgarian had corrected me mid-sentence. But, to be fair, I was half Bulgarian.
And then it happened to me. I was buying train tickets and a total stranger corrected me (the nerve!). And then the bread man did, and then a member at church, and on and on. What was going on? Were my language skills getting worse? Why was this happening? After a few months of frustration, I sank to my knees. What was wrong with me? I cried and prayed, hoping my language skills in Bulgarian wouldn’t be a total disappointment to my mother, who I was sure was expecting me to come home speaking like a native.
Soon a stunning realization gently came over me. No one had corrected my language before, because they hadn’t understood me before. Their correction was evidence that they could at least guess what I was trying to say. It was a supreme act of love to stop and correct me–to help me get to where I wanted to be.
Since then my life has been full of stunning, humbling, and loving corrections. When I couldn’t get pregnant with a second baby, for example. I had a thermometer in my pillow case so that I could take my waking temperature and wait for a subtle increase to announce that I was ovulating. I had an entire shoe box of herbs, tinctures, and homeopathic remedies that all promised abundant fertility. I prayed. I fasted. I went to the temple. I was going to make this happen! I cried and pled–why would He give me this desire if He wouldn’t fulfill it? Give me my baby! But something else happened. Instead of changing God’s mind, He changed me. He calmed me down. He filled me with peace. Several strong, brilliant, single and married women came to me and told me of their unfulfilled desire to bear any children at all. I started playing more with the child I did have; holding him, kissing him, reading to him. And eventually I told God that if I only was only able to have one child, I was so grateful for the one I had. And the gentle realization came again: I am in charge of when a child comes to your family, not you. In pure love, the Lord had corrected me again.
And then financial challenges swallowed us whole: a combination of moving and paying two house payments, surgery and doctor visits, and dramatic job changes within a tanking economy (to name a few). We prayed. We fasted. We made goals. We visualized. We went to the temple. We worked. And worked. And worked; month after month. And in all those months encircling, angelic generosity from others was a daily experience. People who I had thought “had it all” opened up to me and shared their own formidable troubles. I no longer cared if I or my children were wearing the latest fashions, or watching the newest movies, or playing with the latest electronics–I was free not to bother with keeping up at all. I looked at the homeless people I saw differently; they were real people with lives and stories and the line between us was blurring. And then the stunning, gentle realization came to me during a sacrament meeting: Money is just one resource. You have a thousand others.
I began to open my eyes to them. My friends I had relied on: Emily–who bartered, walked and strategized with me daily. Kathryn–who could sense when I was depressed and would immediately offer a lunch date, or free babysitting while I went to the temple, or cheerful and tearful encouragement. My husband–who would leave love notes around the house, wash a sink full of dishes, dance around the kitchen with me, or put the kids to bed at the drop of a hat. My children–who would take my hand and lead me off to admire a new creation, or curl up in my lap to a book or movie, or giggle those light, golden giggles. I was made more aware and grateful for relentless optimism, hope, creative outlets like writing and singing, family, good humor, good food, restful sleep, peace and unseen angels taking care of the details and fabric of life that I could no longer control.
And the loving corrections continue…
I honestly used to think that obedience to the gospel naturally equaled financial stability, good health, lack of conflict with family members and so on. Didn’t challenges mean that I was being punished for some undiscovered wickedness? Wasn’t ease in one’s life a sign of the Lord’s favor? But then I remember Nephi’s troubles, challenges, and heartaches (some of which were never resolved) and he had called himself “highly favored of the Lord.” And I remember that there are those who want to help me get to where I want to be, who love me enough to correct me, and I hope it happens again.
What realizations have your challenges taught you? What assumptions have you made that the Lord has lovingly corrected? Please share with us.
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