Drawings

I have had times in my life where Sabbath worship didn't "look" how it "should." My first such time was our first Sunday at Seattle Children's after Caden was diagnosed.  Caden was beyond sick, not able to keep anything down.  As the visiting Elders offered Caden the bread, it had barely hit his stomach before he threw it right back up.  Exhausted but intent, Caden asked, "Does it count?"  Never had the Sacrament meant more to me than right then.  I have had many times since, as I've swallowed the bread and thought over my week, where I hoped in faith, "Does it count?"

Another time came when Caden was told he couldn't eat or drink anything.  Despite the doctor's orders, he was determined to partake of the Sacrament.  Again, the bread was offered to Caden, who reached out with determination for not just any piece of bread, but the biggest piece on the tray.  The Spirit was strong as I realized that his faith was stronger than his fear.  Nothing was going to dissuade him from what he held most sacred.  No one, not even the doctors, would stop him from keeping his covenants.  That day, Caden taught me what it means to Always Remember Him.

These last few months have looked quite different as well.  At first, it was church-at-home only.  I loved the quiet of our Sacrament service, that Randy broke and blessed the emblems while Brennon administered to our family in peaceful silence.  Then we were allowed weekly Zoom meetings, where speakers spoke from the comfort of their homes.  Next, in September, we got to attend Russ's meeting to become a Bishop without partaking of the Sacrament.  It was my first time attending church with a mask on.  Now we get to attend church every-other-week.  We begin the meeting by listening to the organist play the opening song, no singing allowed.  Then we have two speakers before ending the meeting's zoom with a prayer.  Those at home partake of the Sacrament in their home, while those in attendance are ministered to by attending members of the Aaronic Priesthood.  The Deacon's each hold two trays, one laden with individual cups of bread or water, the other empty to receive the empty cups. They offer one tray first, pulling it back before anyone can confuse the trays, quickly offering the empty one.  They go from row to row, which are spaced every-other to conform to the social distancing guidelines.  It's not what we'd consider "normal," but it's getting closer.

Church hasn't looked normal for many months.  But the Spirit can still be felt so strong.  Today we got to hear from Elder Ritchie, who recently returned from the Santa Rosa, California mission.  Because it was our off-week, Shelby, Brennon, Tyson and I sat around our computer in our blankets and comfy chairs.  It didn't look like church, but the Spirit that permeated our room and hearts from his testimony has become one of those experiences that I will remember forever when I contemplate what it means and "looks like" to Worship.

(Paraphrasing from memory)

Elder Ritchie, holding up a picture drawn by 6-year old Abigail Schlesser, whom he taught in Primary before his mission, for all to see, including those at home.

"I've asked many people what they thought this was a picture of.  One person told me it looked like a squid.  But I know what it is-- It's a picture of me, drawn by a girl that had done her best, even going so far as to add tears I'd shed in a few of our lessons together.  I have kept this picture with me every day of my mission, in my scriptures so I could pull in out when the Spirit prompted me.

This picture is like our earthly experience and presentation to our Savior and Heavenly Father.  Others may not know what it is, may only see scribbles and their own interpretation of what it represents.  But to our Savior, it means the world.  He knows it is our best, with as much meaning and love as we could give at the time, done with as much color and detail as we thought needed to be added.  Others may not hold it as dear, but our Savior keeps it with him and holds it close.

Sometimes we may not feel as if what we are giving is as good as others, something that would be framed or saved, but the Lord knows the true value and worth of our pictures given throughout our lives to Him."

It may be the setting or simply the analogy itself, but because I was struck so deeply by the imagery and feelings it evoked, I will never forget this Sabbath day.  I imagine some of my own presentations to my Savior over the years look much like Abigail's picture-- something only I know what it represents, drawn with as much love, color, detail, and meaning as I could do in my limited experience with my Spiritual Crayons.  But the Savior knows how much time I took, how much it meant for me to make it for him.  He holds the drawings of my story close when others would discard, when others would see only scribbles or squids.  I hope my current drawing portrays a beautiful, vibrant, bright-colored stroke for today because it was a day to always remember in a long line of not-normal Sabbath days.