Today’s post is a guest blogger, my daughter. I’ve asked her to tell her story in her own words. This is a testimony not only to the power of prayer, but of having a real, personal relationship with our Heavenly Father.
It’s Tuesday, and I realize my wallet has been missing for a week. I’ve spent the day searching every nook and cranny, including dismantling the bed, mattress, and box spring, looking in the refrigerator and freezer (after tearing the car, van, couches, and rest of the house apart.) It is nowhere in the house or garage or car. I had retraced my steps, viewed all my transactions to see if any were fraudulent in the past week, and to try and figure out where it could be. I call all the 5 stores I had shopped at the Wednesday before to prepare for our trip. No one had it.
Wednesday, depressingly, yet also emotionlessly I go through the motions as I spend the day deep cleaning my house to see if it could be hidden under the pile of crumbs on the floor, because I can’t look for it any more. There was nowhere else to look. I had to stop thinking about it or I would go mad. I decided I wouldn’t replace all of it. I had just done that when it had been stolen at Christmas, and it was a nightmare. I decided I would just not ever go to the temple, get pulled over, go to the doctor, or buy anything ever again. I would live simply. Minimalistically. I didn’t need a wallet or the billion things it contained. My husband had put a lock on all the cards so they couldn’t be used, not wanting to cancel them in case it showed up.
This had happened in college years before. I had lost my wallet 5 times in less than a week. I had prayed about it at varying points of searching and found it each time after praying. The last time, I didn’t have time to mess around. I had already determined that Heavenly Father was messing with me, hiding it and seeing how long each time it would take me to ask for it back. I had a test in the testing center that would close shortly and I needed my Student ID card to take it. I knelt down immediately and said a somewhat sacrilegious prayer, “I know you know where it is. Can I have it back now please.” I opened my eyes and at eye level it was there, stuck between the mattress and box spring, which was on a frame that was raised on cinder blocks. That isn’t a place it just “falls” or is left. It was put there.
Now, I wasn’t going to ask where it was any more. He had taken it to prove a point, and I was too fuming mad and stubborn to play along. I had prayed for inspiration the first day, and clearly He was wanting something more than that, because He hadn’t revealed it yet. We were at a stalemate. I was confident it wasn’t stolen, but that it was hidden, again, and would eventually be returned, but I wasn’t going to give in to negotiations quite yet, because I was not in the mood.
That was last night.
This morning I didn’t look for the wallet. I didn’t pray about it. I did, however spend the morning trying to figure out in my own mind what it was that I was supposed to be learning or gaining from this withholding. Clearly He wanted me to stop doing something or start doing something that I hadn’t been doing, step it up, and be better. I wasn’t ready to start making promises or negotiations, quite yet, but I was going through the list in my mind. Should I tell Him I will start praying or reading scriptures more? Should I give up that one vice that still has a nagging hold on me? What was it that He wanted for this particular test? Should I do them one at a time, as kind of a trial and error elimination exercise? Or all at once and hedge my bets?
I realize it is getting late in the day and I need to put the garbage cans out, or they will be missed when the trucks come to pick them up.
After returning to the garage, I walk past the recycle container. I have a random urge to quickly and sneakily pull down the side of the Bosch Tool Bag on the workbench, the way Maria, from “The Sound of Music” pulled the sheet off of a bed quickly to see if there were any spiders in her bed, finding nothing there, sighs with relief. Though it all happens in an instant, I have a split-second thought of what if it is in there, but part of me knows that would be absurd and I will just be disappointed. In one quick motion my hand is on the bag, pulling it open.
There it is. Inside the tool bag is the shining silver wallet, containing no less than 40 cards that I no longer have to debate whether or not I will replace. I come inside and kneel on the floor by the couch and bow my head, and say a prayer of gratitude…not only for its return, and the stress and hassle it will eliminate, but for having confidence in me to not wait until I had signed a contractual agreement written in blood that I would do what He wanted me to do before relieving my suffering. I had heard Him, and He knew it. And like I always try to explain to my daughter, any parent that punishes a child, doesn’t do it of malice or to be mean. It is to try and change behavior, to get that child to wake up, pay attention, and not be satisfied with lukewarm, when the bar has been set so much higher, and they know what you are capable. It is to get that child to do better. Be better. To rise to their true potential. Here is to self improvement.
And as I stated in my Theme Reveal, this is how faith is transmitted from generation to generation. This same daughter shares an experience with her daughter…
My daughter, age 4, misplaced her pink purse containing her ticket to the carrousel for the past few days. This would not have been so sad, seeing we only go once a week anyway, but this was the last week to ride the carrousel for the summer before they closed it down for the year. She had two rides left on her ticket that we had already paid for, that would have gone unused if we didn’t find it in time. Having searched everywhere as a family for two days (we were also looking for “The Hiding Place” because that too was misplaced only pages before being done reading it) we turned up empty handed. Exhausted of possibilities, she and I prayed to find it. Later in the afternoon I had the feeling to crawl around on the floor in her room. Looking under the bed, the changing table/dresser, and crib I didn’t see it. Then glancing across the room into the open closet, I saw it just laying on the floor by the basket of swimming things. I called her in to tell her the good news, Heavenly Father had shown me where her purse was. She was so excited.
“Why Heavenly Father help you find my purse? Cause Him kind?”
“And he loves us and wants to help us.”
“Him good at finding things.”
“Yep He knows where everything is and we just need to ask for his help to see it.”
“Him help me find it I can’t see it! HIM KIND!”
Kneeling down to say a prayer of thanks, we told our Heavenly Father how grateful we are for his loving kindness and asked Him to help us find my book, too. I was grateful for this opportunity to bear my testimony of prayer and Heavenly Father’s love and watchful eye over us. He has helped me countless times to find things in answer to prayer.
Finding it with only an hour before the last carrousel ride started (they only go every 15 minutes) we hurriedly got ready to go. I asked Renee to find her shoes and put them on. Sitting in the entryway by the pile of shoes, she said she wanted Heavenly Father to help her find them. I told her they were right behind her on the floor and she got very upset at my usurping His power, yelling at me not to help her, that she wanted to say a prayer. I explained that it is after all that we can do that we ask for His help. We can’t be lazy and just expect Him to hand us everything, we have to try first. I am not quite sure she got that concept, but we put on her shoes together and hopped on the bike to ride for our very last special ride together.