After 10 years of taking David to Church I've finally realized I don't need to sit through an entire service in quiet reverence in order to feel the Spirit. When I make the effort to be at Church with my autistic son the Spirit can find a way to reach me.
Sunday.
The longest hardest day of the week.
The day I take David to Church.
One Sunday after an especially long and trying sacrament service I found myself
standing in front of the elevator. Nine months pregnant. David had just pushed the button and was jumping
up and down as he waited for the doors to open.
I felt exhausted. I wondered
how I’d get through the next two hours. David had been upset for most of the
first hour. This made me think the next two wouldn’t go well either. It was one of
those Sundays where I found myself wondering if it was worth all the effort.
As I leaned against the wall a painting caught my eye. It hung next to the elevator and was positioned directly in front of me. I recognized it as a pioneer burial in the snow. I’ve stood in front of the elevator many times and I’ve seen that painting before. But this time was different.
The
scene before me—‘Martin Handcart Company, Bitter Creek, Wyoming 1856’—depicted
by Clark Kelley Price, ignited a warm glow inside me as the Spirit filled my being. Deep within my soul the fires of
faith burned a little brighter.
I tried to imagine what it must be like to bury your husband or child in a
shallow, snowy grave. Tears welled up in my eyes. I was glad that wasn’t my
reality.
All
of a sudden my trial didn’t feel so bad. I’d rather bring an autistic child to
Church than bury him in the snow.
The
elevator doors swung open and David pranced inside. I followed close behind. It
didn’t matter now if the next two hours were difficult. I’d received the spiritual
strengthening I needed.
In
the midst of chasing David, the Spirit found a way to reach me. It only took a
few seconds for me to be uplifted and edified. In the short time it took for
the elevator to arrive I received a beautiful impression of comfort and faith—my
reward for coming to Church.
All of my effort in wrestling David had now become
worthwhile.
