Happy Gratitude Week!

Today at church, in sacrament meeting (our major worship service of the week) I really felt inspired that the messages shared by the 3 members of our congregation were just for me.

Kjirsti talked about how the Savior can help us to have an eternal perspective and to see things, especially blessings that we can’t see on our own. She told a story of how her son understands what he can do on his own and what he needs help with. When he wants a better view, to see something up high, he asks to be held. In the same way, we must ask for the Lord’s help to broaden our perspective. He can show us a beautiful vista that was unattainable to us on our own merits. He can lift our eyes, or He can provide the step stool of the Spirit to raise us higher so that, instead of looking at the wall, we can see out the window to the blessings of eternity.

Kealy spoke about how the Lord can help us to be of good cheer despite trial and adversity. She told a soul stirring story from a talk given by President Thomas S. Monson from general conference:

In about March 1946, less than a year after the end of the war, Ezra Taft Benson, then a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, accompanied by Frederick W. Babbel, was assigned a special postwar tour of Europe for the express purpose of meeting with the Saints, assessing their needs, and providing assistance to them. Elder Benson and Brother Babbel later recounted, from a testimony they heard, the experience of a Church member who found herself in an area no longer controlled by the government under which she had resided.

She and her husband had lived an idyllic life in East Prussia. Then had come the second great world war within their lifetimes. Her beloved young husband was killed during the final days of the frightful battles in their homeland, leaving her alone to care for their four children.

The occupying forces determined that the Germans in East Prussia must go to Western Germany to seek a new home. The woman was German, and so it was necessary for her to go. The journey was over a thousand miles (1,600 km), and she had no way to accomplish it but on foot. She was allowed to take only such bare necessities as she could load into her small wooden-wheeled wagon. Besides her children and these meager possessions, she took with her a strong faith in God and in the gospel as revealed to the latter-day prophet Joseph Smith.

She and the children began the journey in late summer. Having neither food nor money among her few possessions, she was forced to gather a daily subsistence from the fields and forests along the way. She was constantly faced with dangers from panic-stricken refugees and plundering troops.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks to months, the temperatures dropped below freezing. Each day, she stumbled over the frozen ground, her smallest child—a baby—in her arms. Her three other children struggled along behind her, with the oldest—seven years old—pulling the tiny wooden wagon containing their belongings. Ragged and torn burlap was wrapped around their feet, providing the only protection for them, since their shoes had long since disintegrated. Their thin, tattered jackets covered their thin, tattered clothing, providing their only protection against the cold.

Soon the snows came, and the days and nights became a nightmare. In the evenings she and the children would try to find some kind of shelter—a barn or a shed—and would huddle together for warmth, with a few thin blankets from the wagon on top of them.

She constantly struggled to force from her mind overwhelming fears that they would perish before reaching their destination.

And then one morning the unthinkable happened. As she awakened, she felt a chill in her heart. The tiny form of her three-year-old daughter was cold and still, and she realized that death had claimed the child. Though overwhelmed with grief, she knew that she must take the other children and travel on. First, however, she used the only implement she had—a tablespoon—to dig a grave in the frozen ground for her tiny, precious child.

Death, however, was to be her companion again and again on the journey. Her seven-year-old son died, either from starvation or from freezing or both. Again her only shovel was the tablespoon, and again she dug hour after hour to lay his mortal remains gently into the earth. Next, her five-year-old son died, and again she used her tablespoon as a shovel.

Her despair was all consuming. She had only her tiny baby daughter left, and the poor thing was failing. Finally, as she was reaching the end of her journey, the baby died in her arms. The spoon was gone now, so hour after hour she dug a grave in the frozen earth with her bare fingers. Her grief became unbearable. How could she possibly be kneeling in the snow at the graveside of her last child? She had lost her husband and all her children. She had given up her earthly goods, her home, and even her homeland.

In this moment of overwhelming sorrow and complete bewilderment, she felt her heart would literally break. In despair she contemplated how she might end her own life, as so many of her fellow countrymen were doing. How easy it would be to jump off a nearby bridge, she thought, or to throw herself in front of an oncoming train.

And then, as these thoughts assailed her, something within her said, “Get down on your knees and pray.” She ignored the prompting until she could resist it no longer. She knelt and prayed more fervently than she had in her entire life:

“Dear Heavenly Father, I do not know how I can go on. I have nothing left—except my faith in Thee. I feel, Father, amidst the desolation of my soul, an overwhelming gratitude for the atoning sacrifice of Thy Son, Jesus Christ. I cannot express adequately my love for Him. I know that because He suffered and died, I shall live again with my family; that because He broke the chains of death, I shall see my children again and will have the joy of raising them. Though I do not at this moment wish to live, I will do so, that we may be reunited as a family and return—together—to Thee.”

When she finally reached her destination of Karlsruhe, Germany, she was emaciated. Brother Babbel said that her face was a purple-gray, her eyes red and swollen, her joints protruding. She was literally in the advanced stages of starvation. In a Church meeting shortly thereafter, she bore a glorious testimony, stating that of all the ailing people in her saddened land, she was one of the happiest because she knew that God lived, that Jesus is the Christ, and that He died and was resurrected so that we might live again. She testified that she knew if she continued faithful and true to the end, she would be reunited with those she had lost and would be saved in the celestial kingdom of God. 8

From the holy scriptures we read, “Behold, the righteous, the saints of the Holy One of Israel, they who have believed in [Him], they who have endured the crosses of the world, … they shall inherit the kingdom of God, … and their joy shall be full forever.” 9

Tom spoke about gratitude. He talked of the trap that I so often fall into: the “I’ll be happy when....” trap. There are so many things that I often try to fill in the blank with, but it seems that I can always find something else after that milestone has been achieved or hurdle has been overcome. I need to let myself be happy now. The blessings of the Lord are attainable now. Tom also talked about being thankful for the little things in life that bring us joy. His son prays to thank the Lord for his water bottle, for his blanket. I want to say more simple prayers of gratitude like that. Kjirsti and Tom both spoke of the references made in this past General Conference to the Latter-day Saints in West Africa, how happy they are despite circumstances of destitution, poverty and political upheaval. I believe one of the quotes was that they are ‘a people who have so little of what matters least, and so much of what matters most.’ I want to think more about obtaining what matters most, the eternal blessings available to all, the happiness that comes from being thankful.

I do not want to forget the story Tom shared, an experience from  his mission in Florence Italy in which he got to know a man named Felix from West Africa. Felix means “happy” in Latin, and this man exemplified this trait. Felix spent every day, all day, trying to sell bracelets on the streets to make a meager living of a couple Euro a day. Not only was he supporting himself but also his wife and children, and trying to help other family members afford the cost of school. He was so happy and joyful, and he wanted to listen to the missionaries message. He invited them into his home. He lived in a 2 room apartment with 30 other men who were all doing the same thing, trying to support their families. Cots littered almost every inch of floor, and they would each get a turn to sleep in shifts. When Felix invited the missionaries to teach him, he would wake up everyone and invite them to listen to the message too.

How could a man in such a condition be happy? How could the woman who buried her frozen, starved  children with a tablespoon find joy? It is through the matchless power of Jesus Christ, and His Atonement. It is a gift available to all who seek it. I’m not at this point yet in my life, but I want to strive to be that happy despite any circumstance.

So I am going to dedicate this week to being grateful, and I know this will help me to feel more happy. 

Today I am thankful for the beautiful house and neighborhood we live in. It is so gorgeous in the spring, and so peaceful.

We took a walk today, and we walked all the way around the block. That is exactly 1 mile. And I will admit that it is the very first time since John was born that I've gotten all the way around the block, and after some yoga I can still walk fine now. I'm thankful to be able to walk.

I am grateful for 6:45-7:00pm. It is the last time I feed John for the day, and it is sweet to me, to just wind down from the day with that precious little angel in my arms who looks up at me and smiles and cuddles up a little closer. That is a sacred time in my day, and I am grateful for it.

I'm thankful to be married to my best friend, and to get to plan and dream and laugh with him. I love to see him make John laugh, or give him a hug and a kiss. He is a wonderful father. I am so very blessed.

Wow, I feel better already!

I hope you will join me in finding joy in being grateful this week! 

What are you thankful for?