Today's Relief Society lesson was all about miracles. Shelly, our Relief Society president as well as today's teacher, decided that it was going to be a lesson combined with music, to add to the Spirit and the testimony. And the Young Women joined us for the day, so Adria of the YW presidency helped put together the lesson.
I have heard of the musical program Woman at the Well, but had never heard the music. Shelly and Adria picked three songs from the program. Shelly told the story, we read the scriptures, and then the song was sung. The first was the story of the woman who was healed of her illness just by touched the garment of Jesus. The second was about the 12-year-old daughter of a leader of the synagogue who had just died and then Christ raises her. The last was the story of Lazarus, who died, and was raised after four days. It was a very good lesson. After all the singing, Shelly gave examples of modern miracles, and talked about daily miracles. And then the comments of the sisters in the room about the little miracles that are so important to building up your testimony of the Gospel.
I had been asked to sing the third song, a duet voicing the thoughts and feelings of Mary and Martha, the sisters of Lazarus. The first time I heard the song, I got a little weepy. When I tried to sing along with the recording I had, I had troubles getting through the song without getting choked up. Eventually I got to the point that I was able to get through without a problem. I didn't even think that I was going to have a problem with the song and my emotions.
Well. Our regular pianist wasn't at church today, so I sat down to play prelude and so got to play the opening and closing songs for the meeting. I started to cry as soon as I started to play the opening song, How Great Thou Art. Which is just one of my most favorite hymns. And one that can always make me cry. It's not a good sign if I start crying that early in a meeting. But I still didn't think that I'd have that big of a problem. Once the lesson started, I moved across the room from my belongings, not even remembering to bring my tissues with me.
Shelly started the first story, the woman with the issue of blood, that only wanted to touch the hem of Jesus' garment. Then came the song. And I start to cry. At this point, it's too late. The only way for me to stop crying is to completely ignore the song, or leave the room. I didn't want to do either, so I'm stuck with being an emotional mess.
But since the feelings I had were so sweet and filled me with peace and gratitude, I don't really mind the tears. (However, it would have been better for me to remember my tissues. Luckily, my duet partner had some extra.)
It really is amazing all the wonderful things my Father has given me. The miracle of living on this earth, at this time, having the Gospel, having my family so close, having the blessings of the Church. Knowing about the temple, and being able to go is a miracle and blessing. Waking every day is a great blessing and miracle. Finding my roommate was a great miracle. Getting our couch was a wonderful little miracle.
When it came time for me to sing, I had been steadily sniffing back tears for 20 minutes. And when I stood up to sing, all the room could tell that I had been crying and was on the verge of tears again. I told them it was a good thing the words had been printed up for them, so that if I was incoherent, or stopped singing altogether, they would know what it was supposed to have been. I manage to get through this song, even getting through the part that had tripped me up in the first place. But the last few lines. "Somehow He knew when to be here. / Son of God, / He is always here." I couldn't actually finish the last note for crying. (I'm even starting to cry as I type this.) My only consolation is that I made some of the other sisters in the room cry.
But the whole experience made me so grateful for so many things. For a family that loves and supports me. For a ward family that loves me and prays for me. For friends that still are my friends, even though I make fun of them, or have a laugh at their expense. I'm grateful that my friends stayed around long enough to know that past the cynical and mean exterior, I'm worth getting to know.
I was giving a sister from church a ride home and she told me that I can't hide the fact that I have a soft heart. Which made me laugh, because sometimes I'd rather be seen as mean and cynical, but sometimes no one else sees me that way. (At least among the sisters of my ward, who only see me on Sunday, and who see just the soft-hearted side.)
Anyways, I guess I just wanted to share that I do have a testimony of the Gospel. And that I do know that I am very blessed and lucky. And that miracles are around us, everywhere and everyday.
