I rushed into church today, the first sacrament meeting with two daughters and no Derek because we are now on the 9 am schedule. I quickly made my way to the overflow chairs and plopped everything down as the sacrament hymn began. "Late again!" I mumbled to myself in frustration. I pulled Libby on my lap and left Sarah in her seat so we could sing the hymn. Off to our left was a man in a wheelchair. He must have cerebral palsy. I have never seen him before. As the song began I listened in amazement as he lifted his voice in song--his version of the song. He couldn't form the words, and he didn't come close to the tune, but I felt the song coming from his heart. I sat there listening--humbled. Often in this phase of life I feel so overwhelmed with the challenges that face me, but as I sat with my two beautiful, healthy daughters close to me and listened to his voice praising the Savior, I was reminded of the blessings that I have in my life.
We didn't quite make it through the whole sacrament before I retreated with the girls to the primary room. There I could listen to the talks and handle both girls with more room. As I listened to the talks on making meaningful change in our lives, I resolved to be like the man in our sacrament meeting who sings praises to the Savior despite challenges, rather than like the grumbling mother who takes her blessings for granted.
1 comment:
What a beautiful post, Trish. I had one of those moments myself this week. I read about a family whose baby was diagnosed with a problem with her mitocondria. It can be a terminal illness, and if one sibling has it there is a 100% chance the others will, too. That includes this mother's 2 older twins. Breaks your heart! All we have to do is see someone who is worse off than we are to remember how blessed we are.
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