Getting It

The manual for RS/Priesthood this year is Gospel Principles. The first lesson is "Our Heavenly Father", about the nature of who God is and His relationship to us. That's something I've thought about quite a lot the last few years.

The prophets and General Authorities have for years counseled young people in the Church not to put off marriage, and once being married not to put off having children. Even before I was married or had any kids, I assumed a big part of the reason for that is that the longer you go along in life having only yourself to worry about/take care of, the easier it is to become prone to habits of selfishness and/or short-sightedness. When you have someone else whose happiness and (in the case of a child) overall well-being depends so heavily on you, on your choices and actions, it leaves a lot less wiggle room for selfishness and you must think more carefully through your actions and what the consequences may be, intended and unintended. The stakes are higher, if you will.

I still think that's true, and is part of the reason for that counsel from our leaders. But something I didn't consider as much before I had kids (at least not as consciously) is how much better you understand who God is and what your relationship with Him ought to be like after you become a parent. Its significant to me that the title of that lesson wasn't "The Nature of God" or something along those lines. It was "Our Heavenly Father". As you experience the ups and downs of parenting and the joy of loving your children, you come to better understand what it means to have heavenly parents, and how much they love you. My relationship with my Heavenly Father has grown tremendously since becoming a mother 5 1/2 years ago and not just because the challenges of raising kids drive you to seek more help, but because I understand better how He sees and feels about me, because of the love I feel for my children.

I watch my five-year-old. She's learning so rapidly and growing so fast. Right now, she's so young she doesn't have a very good grasp of what her own strengths and weaknesses are yet, but she's old enough that most of them are quite apparent to me. I know her better than she knows herself right now, and I can imagine quite easily where she's going to have struggles (and successes) at 13, 18 and 25, so how I address certain behaviors, attitudes and personality quirks is shaped by a future she can't possibly imagine yet. Consequently, the things I ask of her don't always make sense to her five year old brain, and yet I am constantly amazed by the complete trust she puts in me by being obedient. She doesn't always understand, but she does believe that I love her and am trying to help. That's enough for her.

I've been trying to emulate her trust, because I am more confident than ever that I have a Father who loves me, who knows me better than I know myself and can see the bumps down the road that I can't see. So sometimes He asks me to do things that don't make sense to me at the moment, and it is much easier than it used to be to simply trust that He knows best and wants only good things for me.

Keilana loves to confront physical challenges, to learn how to do new things. When she was first learning to go across monkey bars she would want me to hold onto her legs so that she learned the motions for her hands. She grew stronger and more confident and let me inch away. She still had a lot of falls, and it was pretty painful to fall from those high monkey bars, but she knew that I was there. She knew I wasn't going to catch her every time, so she was going to take some hard falls and get some painful bruises, but she knew I'd be right there, ready to comfort her and help her get on her feet again and back to the top. She persisted, with me kissing a lot of owies and picking her up again and again until she'd made enough progress to do it on her own.

That experience kept coming to mind the last two weeks. My lessons the past two Sundays with the youth have been on the Plan of Salvation. I thought, "This is what sets us apart. This is what makes what we know so much different than others." As I looked at this marvelous plan, diagrammed out so nicely, it was so clear that here was the portrait of a loving, kind and patient parent. He doesn't send us down here, knowing how hard its going to be, let us muddle through and then if you're 51% good you go to Heaven and if you're 51% bad, you're out of luck. Two sons came forward and said, "Here am I, send me". One of them said he'd stand there and hold our legs the whole time. Sure, we'd never fall, but we'd also never learn to cross those monkey bars ourselves. But the other Son said, "Its OK, you can try it on your own. I know you're going to fall, but I'll make up the difference. I'll be standing there to pick you up, comfort you and get you on your feet again." And a loving Father, knowing full well what it would cost, gave us that opportunity. And He didn't stop there. He knew some would pass through this life without having the opportunity to know Him, or would have the opportunity but wouldn't recognize it. So He extended that period of probation and organized a way for all His children to be taught and to progress. And even at the great judgement bar He offers one last chance for Redemption. And then you are rewarded with a kingdom that suits your level of righteousness and progression. So few of His children are truly, completely cast out.

So many pieces of that truth were lost, and so much confusion ensued about and throughout Christianity. But here is the complete plan, which testifies so marvelously of how deep and forgiving and patient is our Father's love for us. Here is the plan of a parent who treasures each of His children and does all He can to ensure their success and happiness. He lets us take our bumps and bruises so that we can learn, but He never leaves us without a way to find comfort, strength, understanding, and redemption.

It is not natural for me to ask for help. In fact, its quite opposite my nature. But I am much more willing to do so than I once was, because I know how willing--and not just willing, but anxious--I am to help my own children. All that I ask is that they ask me nicely and show a little appreciation now and then. Sound familiar?