Number The Stars and Open The Doors

I remember reading "Number The Stars" in fifth grade.  I immediately identified myself with the main character, Annemarie, a little girl in Denmark during World War II.  In the story, Annemarie has a friend named Ellen, who belongs to a Jewish family.  Annemarie's family gives Ellen's family refuge from the Nazi soldiers until they can escape tot he safer, neighboring country of Sweden.

This was one of the first books I remember touching me on a deeper level than the surface entertainment or purely informational books I was used to reading in school.  I'd never learned about the Holocaust before, or read a book with such a dark and powerful undertone.  Throughout the book, Annemarie and her family prove themselves to be heroes, even in the face of great personal risk to their own well-being, and possibly their lives.

In sixth grade, we covered the Holocaust again, in conjunction with our Civil Rights Unit relating to Racial Segregation in the Southern United States.  My young heart was raw from the sudden out-pouring of harsh reality.  I ached to reach through the pages of my books to ease the hearts of those both fictional and non-fictional characters who sustained hate and persecution.

I was so entranced that these things could have actually happened, and I drank-in their history with a fearful curiosity.

But I also remember thinking "Why are we covering this so much? We got the message. These things are so obviously terrible... and obviously wrong.  We as human beings would surely never treat someone like that ever again. "

 Syrian children walking in a refugee camp.  [Image Source HERE.]

Recently, my Facebook feed is full of angry posts; some full of "righteous" anger- demanding violent action in the name of justice.  Others spit at the plight of Syrian refugees- saying that we should close our doors and let those people fend for themselves.  More posts include countless generalizations about religions, and other hateful remarks.  I'm stunned by the number of comments claiming the higher ground before kicking dirt on everyone around them.

I've begun to feel a little like Annemarie again.  Only this time, I'm not a fifth-grade girl reading a book.  This time I'm fully aware of just how real it feels to be living through history, painfully awake to what is happening around you.

I feel determined.  But sometimes I also feel powerless.

For those who share my faith, I encourage you to revisit the October words of our first presidency regarding the Syrian refugees.  And I invite you to recall that it was not that long ago that our own religion was persecuted to the point of death and mutilation.

My fourth-great-grandmother, Amanda Barnes Smith, depositing the body of her son into a well for protection after he was killed by religious persecutors. [Image Source Here]  

If recent events for LDS members have felt like religious persecution, and the online comments to news articles attacking our faith have been hard to stomach, we should recall that our stomachs are full of food and not bullets. 

All trials are meaningful, and we should never feel guilty for finding our "small" struggles hard.  They are significant and tailored uniquely for us with a painful precision.   However, we should also strive to remember that amid any trials we face, we are so incredibly blessed with the knowledge of our Savior who has provided all mankind with the Atonement, which covers a multitude of sins.

[Image Source HERE]

It may not be realistic or even possible for us to open the physical doors of our homes, but the doors to our hearts should be continually unhinged.  Only we can open those internal doors.  We can provide financial funding when able, emotional support however possible, and spiritual inspiration to the best of our ability.

Sometimes we feel powerless.  And in those moments, we can only turn to our Savior and pray to God in His name that hearts can be softened and souls can be reached.  That families can be comforted and individuals may feel peace.  I know God hears those prayers and I know they are powerful.  Every soul has worth, and I think our Heavenly Father weeps whenever one of us are lost.

When you are unsure of how to act, pray.  Pray unceasingly, sincerely, directly.  Be specific in the righteous desires of your heart.  Our words have weight, and while their effect may not be obvious, they are felt and meaningful to those to whom they are directed.

Fill your thoughts with kindness.  When you feel your heart being stirred to anger, let your heart move instead toward a change. Turn the other cheek, and move forward.  We have a duty to defend our homes, our family, our country, but most of all, our God.

Let us not forget in the most terrible of times, the greatest commandment.

"Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all they heart, and with all they soul, and with all thy mind.  This is the first an great commandment.  And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.  On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets."

-Matthew 22 37-40

Far Away

Image Source [Here]

The concept of Christ, a man who lived so long ago, and so far away.  The son of God, who performed miracles and brought about our salvation as an undeserving gift.

It's always been hard for me to grasp.

The thought is emotionally and spiritually compatible, but logically difficult.  Not any more difficult than imagining the Pharaohs of Egypt, The Emperors of Rome, or my Great-great-great-great Grandparents.  It's not a question of existence, but of my own grasp on reality.

You see, it's not the immaculate conception, the miracles, or the resurrection I struggle with.  I've seen miracles in my own life.  I've witnessed healing, and blessings, and changes of the heart.  I can believe he existed, and that he still exists. It's the task of relating to and loving someone I can't remember.  When I would hear others bear their testimony of Jesus Christ, I'd watch the tears form in their eyes and ache to understand how they could relate to someone so personally when they'd never physically touched him, or looked into his eyes with theirs.

Someone who was so far away.

In 2013, I asked my husband for a priesthood blessing.  In that blessing I was instructed to build my personal relationship with Christ, and to prepare myself spiritually.  A few weeks later, I received another blessing with the same instructions.

I had hoped for an easy answer.  A blessing that brought solace, without an obligation.  But that's not always how the Lord works.  Confused, and reluctant to work, I began carefully seeking out opportunities to understand my Savior.

The process has been slow and ongoing, with sudden leaps of growth and long periods of stagnant quiet.  Recently, the promptings have been continuous without end.  An urgent push to expand my perspective and deepen my understanding.

I've felt an un-ending need to find Him.

Image Source [Here]

This blog isn't new.  It had 33 entries before today, filled with spiritual questions and the answers I had received.  But as my spiritual growth continues, I was craving a fresh start.

My Savior may seem far away, but slowly, I am learning that he is nearer than I might have ever known.