Story submitted anonymously.
“Will you share a story about a tender mercy or miracle in your life?” I sat staring at the text while my four young kids were all in different states of crying and fighting. My house was a mess. My sink was full of dishes. I was still wearing the same leggings that were covered in spit-up baby food. I was crying. I had mascara still on my checks from crying the night before. My three-year-old just drew on my daughter’s new bedding and the entire wall in her room with a Sharpie. I wasn’t feeling super spiritual at that moment. I was losing my patience with my daughter. I walked over to my couch. Put a cushion back in place to sit down while stepping on various Legos. I felt completely defeated. Looking at my half-dressed kids and disorganized house I couldn’t think of a single tender mercy in my life.
Just a few days earlier something happened that made me feel completely betrayed and isolated by someone from church. I felt spiritually empty. So, I stopped what I was doing, and sat on that single cushion, surrounded by the chaos of a young family, wondering about the tender mercies that the Lord has given me… recently.
For years I have seen His hand in my life and in the little lives of each of my children. There are big moments where we know that it was the Lord’s hand guiding us, protecting us, and saving us. But how often do we think of those little and tender mercies we get everyday?
I joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints 12 years ago and met my first “ward” (the congregation we attend based on where we live.) I have waited those entire 12 years (and 24 wards later) to feel like I belonged. Up until a few days ago, I believed I found that place. A place that I thought was prepared for us, because leading up to moving here I was praying that we would find our “promise land.” A place where we can lay down some roots, be part of a ward, and raise our kids. This is where my kids would call “home” and I wanted it to be perfect.
By now the chaos in my house turned into real mayhem and I sat and scrubbed my brand new wall in my brand new house holding a crying child. I felt like running away. I wanted to move. I didn’t even care where. I just didn’t want to spend another second in my ward. I momentarily lost my faith. And this bitterness and resentment grew inside my heart. I told my husband I didn’t want to go to church on Sunday. I didn’t want to see anyone. I wanted to go on a permeant vacation to <insert random island>. I felt like I needed to attend church away from my pain or rather the people who caused me that pain.
However, later that evening two friends showed up. I live in the middle of no where so making the effort to see me is a huge gesture. I was so hurt and angry by the actions of others that I had overlooked that my prayers about our move here had already been answered. I had friends. Better than that I had true friends that came over without even knowing what had happened. They gave advice, shared their struggles, and made me feel loved. They listened and didn’t pass judgement. They loved me. They loved my family. They poured out their hearts and their testimonies. They gave me comfort. But most of all they gave me back hope.
This is the Lord at work. This is how the Lord ministers to his children. This is how the Lord answers prayers. He works through all of us. Life is messy, busy and disorganized. We don’t have to wait for a perfect moment, or a calling or assignment to help in the Lord’s work. We don’t have to do grand gestures or wait on local leadership. We all can stand up and serve in little ways. We all can lift someone around us who has fallen. We all can listen. We can wait to pass judgment.
No one should feel as if they aren’t part of His fold. This is the Lord’s church. It’s not Sister-so-and-so’s. It’s not the Bishop’s and it’s not the Prophet’s. This is Christ’s church. And we are all in His fold. Sometimes we are the strong ones pulling up and gathering others and sometimes we are the ones who have had their spirits crushed, their testimonies tested, and hearts broken. Our job is to look outside ourselves and find those we can touch, lift and help their light shine.
Unfortunately, people will always be hurtful and give offense. None of us are perfect. However, I believe that through each of us we can help bring forward the miracles and mercies that someone else is waiting for. A ward should be Zion. A people of one heart and of one mind. If I stop coming, I’m not only hurting my own testimony (and my children’s) but I am not helping create Zion. I am not gathering those who also are hurting or suffering in silence. I’m not helping bring miracles to those around me.
Everyday we can be a tender mercy to someone else from our Father in Heaven; we just have to be looking past ourselves to lift those around us. With the littlest of effort, a text, email, visit, even a smile; this is how tender mercies come to pass. I was so wrapped up in my own trial and pitty party that I missed out on the tender mercies I get from my kids every day. Sometimes, your tender mercies have been sitting there all along… pouring legos and shredded cheese down your vents.
