The Spirit

A couple of weeks ago, Mark asked me "What's wrong?"

I had been feeling sad and when I feel sad I get quiet. I tend to retreat inside of myself while I mull things over.

As usual, when Mark asks me what's wrong, I reply "Nothing." But we've been together over a decade (awesome!) and he is well versed in the herculean effort it takes for me to give him a real answer.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing"

"C'mon.."

"I'm fine."

"Tell me. You're not fine"

"I don't know"

Silence. He's waiting. Because he knows that I have NEVER really not wanted to tell him what was wrong.

"Well....it's just that.." and then I spill it. All of it. Everything that's been on my mind in one gargantuan run on sentence peppered with tears and nose blowing.

Sooo... I'd been feeling distant from Heavenly Father. When I think of Him I feel a great deal of disapproval. I picture him with a spiral notebook and a pencil keeping track of the endless unkind thoughts, how many times I say "seriously?" to my kids, the excessive number of 'dangit's that come out of my mouth, when I forget to say my prayers, how many times I've turned off the tv when I hear Mark opening the garage door and make it look like I wasn't being lazy, and on and on and on. For some reason I picture Him as an accountant of my failings rather than a father that is giving me the benefit of the doubt. I spent my whole mission trying desperately to convince others that God loves them and He wants them to be happy. And now I spend everyday trying to teach my four little people the same thing. I tell them that they can always turn to him and he'll understand the true desires of their hearts. I want them to feel His love for them, but for some reason I struggle believing that He loves me too.

Mark listened and reassured and eventually I stopped crying and we started talking about something else and then we popped popcorn and watched "The Office".

But as we went to the temple this weekend, it was still on my mind. As I sat in the Celestial Room, I wondered why I have a hard time feeling His love for me. I prayed to feel it. I prayed to know what it was when I felt it. And like most things in life, I eventually had to get up out of that chair and leave the Celestial Room and change back into my street clothes and drive back to Arkansas. And life goes on.

Then today as I pulled out of the driveway to go to church, I popped in the CD with the kids' primary songs on it. The first one was "The Family is of God". I had just read my sister's blog and how much she loves this song. She had mentioned that her favorite part is "God gave us families to help us become what He wants us to be. This is how He shares his love". So naturally when it came to that part, I paid a little more attention. When I heard those words, I felt that wonderful feeling wash over me. It reminded me that He shows me His love through the love of my family. They are a gift from Him. I remembered the exact words of my prayer in the temple and I realized that I had received an answer. Such a small thing and it all happened inside of my head and my heart. Isn't that something? It really is something.

Maybe He does have a spiral notebook. If He does, maybe He wrote down that I grew a little bit today. And maybe He'll jot down that I made dinner (with side dishes!) instead of busted out the cold cereal. That's got to neutralize the fact that I'm helping myself to the kids' Halloween candy without permission.