Oh man. Last week was a rough one for me. I was so, so sleep deprived. I was working hard and praying harder and still felt like I was drowning in motherhood and life.
On Sunday, my five-year-old son wanted to go up and bear his testimony for the first time. He planned it all out. I just didn’t think I could muster up the gumption to face the congregation that day, but he wanted to go up so bad. So I said yes.
My husband was gone, so I trekked all three kids to the stand. And then he was too nervous and decided not to bear his testimony.
And I was up there.
And my son looked at me expectantly. And, guys, I bore my testimony (with all three kids) and I WAS A TRAIN-WRECK. Bawling into the microphone.
I’m sure people thought something was seriously wrong. And so many kind souls came up afterwards to offer help—earthly angels, all of them.
But afterwards, mixed into the gratitude was a heavy dose of humiliation.
How dare I break down like that? My life is good. What’s wrong with me?
There are so many people worse off.
So many trials that are harder.
So many bigger mountains people are climbing.
I just needed to figure myself out and move on.
But then I thought of the Savior in the Garden of Gethsemane. Bleeding from every pore. For me. For THIS.
He didn’t move on.
“By the virtue of the blood [He] has spilt, [He] has pleaded before the father.” (D&C 38:4)
He didn’t look at my trial, or any trial any of you are going through for that matter, and say, “I’ll skip this one. It’s not nearly as hard compared to this other one I just suffered for so-and-so.”
He suffered for all of it. For all of us.
No trial was too trivial.
I realized I need to stop comparing trials.
Because, as President Nelson said, “Men are that they might have joy, not guilt trips!”
Our guilt won’t solve anything.
But Christ will.
“His eyes are upon you. He is in your midst” (D&C 38:7)
And our hard matters to Him.