In the Hand of the Lord

Alec (middle) near Liege, Belgium

About three thousand years ago, a woman named Hannah prayed for a son. In due time, she celebrated the birth of her baby boy, Samuel. And when Samuel was still a young boy, Hannah turned him over to the care of the high priest in the tabernacle. "For this child I prayed," she said, "and the Lord hath given me my petition which I asked of him. Therefore also I have lent him to the Lord."

I have thought often of how difficult it must have been for Hannah to walk away from the tabernacle that day, knowing that she would only see her boy once a year when she came to the tabernacle to offer her yearly sacrifice. According to the record, she made him a little coat every year, and I can envision the love she put into each stitch on that coat and the warmth in her arms as she embraced her son, breathing in his scent and marveling at his growth. The Lord blessed Hannah greatly for her sacrifice, and she rejoiced.

A couple of years ago, I, too, loaned a son to the Lord, sending him off on an airplane early one January morning to serve a two-year mission in France. To be sure, the sacrifice was more Alec's than mine. It was his decision, his preparation. And after all, as a young adult, he hardly needed me to make a little coat each year for him. But still, like Hannah, I rejoice that I have a son to loan. And like Hannah and her husband, we have felt an outpouring of blessings in our family, just as we did when Alec's older brother served.

Even so, there are times when my arms ache to hug my boy, or I long to hear his voice more than twice a year. There are also times, like this week, when I remind myself that I have handed my son to God's care, and that God truly does hold him in the palm of His hand. For the past few months, Alec has served not far from Brussels, leading a zone that includes all of the French-speaking LDS missionaries in Belgium. Just days ago, the Belgian government placed Brussels on the highest terror alert, effectively locking down the city, and the United States issued a global travel alert. Alec assured us in his weekly email that the missionaries are safe and taking all necessary precautions. I believe him, and I know without a doubt that these missionaries enjoy the protection of God now more than at any other point in their lives.

And yet...Alec is due to return to the States in just over a month. I can almost hear the music he will play on the piano, and already I can imagine the laughter spreading across his face as he regales us with stories from his mission. For the first time in two years, my arms and my heart will be full to bursting with all of my children together. I remind myself to focus on the joy and not let my head muddle about in worries about delayed travel and terrorist fear tactics.

A week or two ago, I sat through a nail-biter of a football playoff game, cheering myself hoarse when our team won with a Hail Mary pass in the final two seconds. After so many football games and moments in my life when the Hail Mary passes failed to connect, I marveled a bit at the outcome of this particular game. It served as a wonderful reminder to me that, for all of the trials and learning experiences that the Lord grants us, He also sometimes allows those passes to connect, sometimes opens those windows of heaven and overwhelms us with joy and bounty. 

I have felt, these past few months, that this is one of those times in my life. I truly do feel overwhelmed with blessings and with the responsibility to use those blessings to serve and benefit others. Occasionally, I find myself tempted to listen to that whisper that warns, "It's only temporary. You don't deserve this. It won't last." It is then that I ponder the faith of Hannah, not only in loaning her son to the Lord but also in rejoicing. Over and over in my head runs the question, "Do I have faith enough to be joyful?" Pierre Teilhard de Chardin said once, "Joy is the infallible sign of the presence of God." I believe I open the door to God when I allow myself to rejoice, that living joyfully--not just enduring--must become an evidence of my faith.

As a consequence, I will cheer for Hail Mary passes, for missionary sons, for days both rainy and sunny. I will open my eyes to miracles and my heart to love. I will close the door to worry, and I will rejoice.