Never Forgotten

Another view from my wonderful much-to-be-missed window! (Taken this time last year)

Last Sunday morning, as I sat in church at the beginning of sacrament meeting, I was feeling a little sorry for myself. I had spent the past two days traveling. I was exhausted, getting a small migraine (an almost-daily occurrence right now due to a medication I'm on), and stressed about the coming two weeks of frantic packing and moving. Additionally, I was extremely frustrated about some news I had received the day before, which complicated a number of my plans and left me deeply unsure about some things that I had previously felt certain about.

As I sat there, feeling grumpy and self-pitying, a very clear impression came into my heart.

"Cindy, you need to think about the bonus."

And so I pulled out my journal and started writing about an experience we had had a few days before.

When we first decided to take the job in Utah, we started pricing out how much it would cost to move. We zeroed in on one particular rent-a-truck company as the cheapest, and got an estimate from their website as to how much it would cost. The truck rental was about $80, and we figured gas would probably be somewhere around $100, give or take a little. We couldn't, however, reserve the truck right away, because we did not (at that point) have all the details of the job offer. For one reason and another, getting the "official" job offer took much longer than we had anticipated, and by the time we were able to reserve the truck it had doubled in price. We were now looking at a total truck-plus-gas cost of somewhere around $250, eighty dollars more than what we'd planned.

We were, needless to say, a little bit annoyed. It didn't feel like a financial hardship, exactly—we had enough saved in the bank to more than cover the cost of our move, and although we were less than thrilled about the idea of depleting a lot of our savings, we knew that it would not be a huge deal in the long run. We have certainly been in much more dire instances of financial need in our lifetime, and so—while we were a little frustrated about the fact that circumstances outside of our control had cost us an extra $80—we were more irritated than worried.

But then, the very next day, Mahon's current employer announced that because December had been a record-breaking month for them in terms of revenue, all of the employees were going to get $200 bonuses. Yes: Almost exactly the same amount that we had just calculated we would be spending on the truck rental and gas down to Utah.

That experience, after a day of stress and annoyance, was a palpable reminder of just how intimately the Lord knows us and our needs—large and small. And, as I journaled about it last Sunday, I was reminded of that principle—and also of something else.

I think almost everyone can say that, at one point in their life, they have felt forgotten or abandoned by the Lord. Just the other day I was reading the stories of Rachel and Leah in Genesis, and Rachel's angry words toward her husband and toward the Lord when after years and years, she still failed to conceive a child. It was easy to see, as I read, the depth of Rachel's heartbreak and her feeling of betrayal. As her trial dragged on and on, she felt bereft and completely abandoned.

And yet, when Rachel was finally blessed with children, not only did her sons love their mother, but they (Joseph and Benjamin) went on to become integral players in world history and the plans of the Lord. Truly, the Lord had not forgotten Rachel.

What I realized as I wrote in my journal during that quiet sacrament meeting was this: The Lord is aware—intimately aware—of my life, of my needs. He is right there, wanting to reach out and help me even in a situation—like that of the moving costs—that doesn't feel like it's a huge deal to me. And, therefore, if I feel like I have a need that He is not meeting, then there is obviously more going on than I realized. In those situations, I am not abandoned; in those situations, the Lord is working to meet my needs—only He is working to meet needs much greater than the ones I think I have, needs I may not yet understand.

The need, for instance, to become a strong woman. A holy woman. A pure woman. A powerful woman. The need to develop into the kind of person that the Lord knows I can be. The need to learn faith, to learn courage, to learn trust and hope and patience.

If I feel that the Lord is not taking an active enough part in my life—well, then, frankly, I'm wrong. He is always active in my life, always there, always deeply concerned for my welfare. It is only that, in His perfect and infinite wisdom, He often has a better conception of exactly what constitues my "welfare" than I do.

Like Rachel, I am not forgotten. Like Rachel, even in the times when I feel that the Lord is neglecting to answer my most fervent prayers, there is so much more going on that I can at the moment comprehend. Like Rachel, the Lord desires not only to make me happy in the small, present moment, but to make of my life something much more beautiful and powerful than I can yet imagine.

And so, next time I'm feeling abandoned by my Heavenly Father, I am going to remember the small miracle of the unexpected bonus, and the principles that it taught me.

That the Lord is deeply, personally aware of me.

That He loves me and wants to do everything He can for me, to bless me even in small ways when I don't perceive a desperate need.

That when I feel like He's ignoring my needs, it is only because His plans are so much grander than my own.

That He is always, always there.

And that I am never forgotten.