Heavenly Father Must Really Love Me

I have a penchant for waxing philosophical. But tonight, my goal is to avoid too much of a philosophical waxing. Instead, Imma tell you about some things that I noticed this month.

Life this year has been almost exactly 50% wonderful and 50% disappointing and discouraging. Rarely have I had such a centrifugal year. On an note that's seemingly unrelated, a few weeks ago I went to a ward activity (as Relief Society presidents are wont to do). In attendance was a certain sister who, by her own admission, doesn't come to ward activities very often although she frequently attends church meetings. This sister and I both got a ride to the activity location from another sister in our ward, Sophie.

Sophie is a sterling human who is a good example for everyone. In what was perhaps her only lapse of judgment ever, earlier this year she purchased an electric car, not realizing that it could only be started by a key fob and that there was no physical key as a backup.

Well, it just so happened that when we arrived at Sophie's car, her key fob was not working. It was unable to communicate with her electric car, effectively locking us out in the cold.

This sister who rarely comes to ward activities exclaimed that she had the exact same model of car as Sophie. She taught Sophie a trick that would open the car door. However, even though we were able to get inside the car, it still wouldn't start.

I was sitting there, silently praying. No one from our ward had parked near us, and even if they had it would be a major inconvenience to leave Sophie's car in the lot and try to catch rides with others. I'm sure Sophie was praying, too.

But then the other sister said that she knew what the problem was. She said that Sophie's key fob was probably out of batteries, and she suggested that she switch the battery in her own key fob with Sophie's battery. Sure enough, it worked. AND what's more, the sister insisted that Sophie just keep the battery because the sister had a spare at home.

On the way home, Sophie marveled about how incredible it was that this sister who happened to have the exact same car as her had ended up driving with her. The other sister agreed and mentioned that she'd felt strongly that she should come to this activity, even though she never comes to activities.

"Heavenly Father must really love me," concluded Sophie.

That was really humbling to me, because while I was grateful that a solution had presented itself, I was more exhausted that a problem had arisen in the first place. But in Sophie's eyes, the death of the key fob battery was not a problem so much as it was a blessing—because, she said, if the battery had died in any other circumstance, she wouldn't have known what the problem or had an inkling of how to solve it.

Later in the month, the daily Light the World theme was centered on comforting those who were grieving. The church's website suggested reaching out to a person who had recently lost someone for the day's act of service.

To me, that was too specific. I knew a few people who'd lost someone over the past year or so but not recently enough that reaching out would be appropriate. I didn't want to dredge up painful memories for seemingly no reason.

That night at institute, I remembered that the daughter of one of the teachers had passed away just days before. Although I didn't know her super well, the unfortunate circumstances of her passing depressed me. I decided to mention to the teacher that I'd been acquainted with his daughter and tell him I was sorry for his loss.

This man broke into a joyful smile and asked how I'd known his daughter. His seeming acceptance of her death helped me feel better about the situation, too, and his positive attitude inspired me. He actually acted like I'd done him a favor by bringing her up!

Everything worked out so well, that I felt pretty good. Like...you know...Heavenly Father must really love me.

One last thing. Even later in the month, I was at Target (as I frequently am), this time with my mom. We were walking near the clothing aisles when a high, inarticulate little voice said, "Would you like a rose?"

I looked down to see the cutest little toddler in the cutest little dress, holding out a pink rose.

I reached to accept the rose, then paused. Where were this kid's parents? Where did she get the roses? Oh, there they were, holding even more roses.

Quickly, I put two and two together: this was the family's Light the World service for the day. And what a cute service it was! I happily accepted the rose.

Ain't it pretty? Made my night. Let's say it in chorus: Heavenly Father must really love me.