Tender Mercies

I was reminded very strongly this morning one of the reasons why running into Elder Holland in the SLC airport that evening last summer was so meaningful for me.

In April of 2005, Elder Bednar gave a wonderful talk entitled "The Tender Mercies of the Lord". I had the privilege of hearing the substance of that talk a few months earlier in January when Elder Bednar came to rearrange our stake presidency.  I always try to be aware of and grateful for my blessings, because I think the gratitude is the path to a plethora of other virtues and makes life infinitely more enjoyable.  But there are particular types of blessings that tend to fall into the "tender mercies" category for me, and I think the best way to put it would be blessings that are a divine comfort or reassurance.  

The first time I heard the talk, my mind wandered back to an event about two and a half months earlier.  My Grandma had passed away the previous November, a loss that was hard to take.  She was a huge, huge part of my childhood--my escape from the madness of a busy house full of kids and foster kids, a place of cookies and doughnuts and overcooked hamburgers.  She was one of my closest friends throughout my childhood and adolescence, and just the physical separation from her for the previous two years was difficult.  To have her actually gone was quite a heartache.  But then, two nights after she died, my mom was on her way to her sister's house at about 10 at night to take care of some of the necessary arrangements when she called me and said, "Becky! Tell everybody to get the kids up.  The Northern Lights are out, and they're incredible!"  My grandma LOVED the Northern Lights.  My mom had many memories from her childhood (and I had just a few from mine) of being pulled from a warm bed and hauled outside to witness this particular natural phenomenon.  It was as if Grandma lit up the sky to remind us all, "I'm still here."  It could have been mere coincidence that Aurora Borealis was in full splendor that particular evening, but I don't think so.  It was a tender mercy of the Lord to comfort us in our grief. 

Meeting Elder Holland that night was part of a tender mercy from the Lord, as well.  I was particularly frustrated and depressed that evening over the thought of bad fathers, who fail or hurt their children--over Priesthood holders who did not honor that authority they had been granted, or who even misused it.  When I was feeling pretty hurt and cynical, in walked a man who reminded me that the world was full of good men who honored their priesthood, who loved and cherished their wives and who were good and faithful stewards over their children. How grateful I was to have such a powerful example of that kind of righteousness right in front of me.  

But it didn't end there.  Just a short time later, Doug's flight came in.  Most of the week I had been sick, without a husband around to help, with two small children who had also been sick and were off their schedules.  He came down the escalator and our little three year old went running into his arms, screeching happily, "Daddy!"  He was so happy to see us and we were so happy to see him that all thoughts of poor fathers left me, as I focused on the good father standing with me.  One of the tender mercies of the Lord in my life is a man who is a good husband and a good father.  Oh sure, he's no Jeffery Holland or Thomas Monson or Henry Eyring (and probably never will be:) ), but he's a good man who takes his responsibilities as husband, father and Priesthood holder very seriously.  He sometimes tells me that he feels like a second class citizen in our marriage because everyone's always telling him how wonderful his wife is, and his retort is at least he gets some credit for having the wisdom to marry me, but his strengths are so impressive to me.  If only he knew how often I felt like I was the one left behind! :)  

I am grateful that I am always reminded of what is important and good in my life at exactly the right moment.  When I look back on the times in my life that have been the most stressful, or dark, or difficult, I don't remember them with regret.  I actually remember them primarily with fondness and gratitude, because what sticks out the most in my mind isn't the darkness, it always the light that has been shone into my darkness right when I needed it most.  That's what I remember.  The tender mercies of the Lord are everywhere.