Small Things

Lately, it seems as though the little struggles in life are starting to pile up. I think I fully came to this realization last week, when nothing seemed to be going right, and I was more stressed than I felt I could handle. Today I've come to another realization about a solution I didn't fully see was right in front of me.

When called as the new Young Women's ward pianist, I fought the urge not to laugh. With a smile I said, "Yeah. I can do that." On the outside I probably appeared to be somewhat confident, maybe even a little bit excited. On the inside all I felt was anxiety, and a little bit of humor on top of that. Still, I felt that perhaps having our household filled with hymns would be nice.
I had read and heard stories about people getting called to play the piano for their ward or quorum when they didn't know how to. To me, they all seemed like stories, and things that I thought would be rather funny if they happened to me, but never actually saw them happening. So, on one Sunday afternoon when it did, I felt a lot of different emotions.
Upon telling my family about the new calling I was about to receive, even they kind of laughed. Someone said something about God giving me the talent of playing the piano, and how He wanted me to use it more. I believed that maybe Heavenly Father was telling me I should listen to more wholesome music, instead of getting songs like Zayn's "Pillowtalk" stuck in my head quite often. I also believed it would help me improve my sight reading skills, and other skills I lacked in. Perhaps, and most likely, it's all three, and a lot more.
Just a little less than a week after I was asked to take this calling, I got an email wondering if I could play the opening and closing hymns for a Young Women's program we were having the following Tuesday night. Seeing as I felt I needed to do so, I said I would. My only problem was that I had five days to practice. To those who can easily sight read, and/or don't find hymns very complicated, this might sound like an easy feat. For me? While yes, hymns aren't necessarily the most complicated pieces, I spent those days playing the same song over and over and over and over again. It turns out, I could only play the closing hymn, due to other responsibilities I have that cause me to be later every Tuesday night to mutual, so that made life a little easier. Still, in the end, I didn't even get to play the hymn I had spent many, many hours practicing.
When it was time to close the meeting, I felt a flutter in my heart, but I prayed that Heavenly Father would help me get through the song so that it wasn't the worst thing people had heard, and that my nerves wouldn't get the best of me. So, I sat on the piano bench, and after taking a solid minute to find the song, I played the first couple notes. No one sang. So I started from the beginning again, looking at the conductor to signal that I was ready to start. No one sang. And suddenly I was flustered and I started the first note, and utterly failed the next one, and the next, until I lost my place and stopped playing all together, because the notes were no longer in my head. I sulked behind the piano, ready to cry, disappointed in myself. When everyone was finished singing to a piano-less song and the prayer was said, I slowly got up and didn't make eye contact with anyone. I briefly talked to my mom, quickly stopped by the bathroom to see how badly my eyes were watering, then left to go home.
While in the car, I started to shed some tears, but I told myself to stop. Then, upon returning back to the house, I went straight to my piano, played the song without too much trouble, closed the hymnbook, and started to kind of sob. This is slightly embarrassing to admit, but that's life and this is what happened. I like to be honest with my posts, and I'm not gaining anything by telling you that I didn't cry. I very much did, and I very much went into the bathroom, closed the door, and rested my arms and head at the edge of the sink. I then proceeded to ask Heavenly Father why he let this happen, and why after so many hours of practice, I couldn't play the song I was supposed to.
Flashback to earlier in the day when I was at my internship. All I wanted was some time before my internship was finished, and before going to mutual, to practice the song... We were feeding the horses, so we needed to get hay out into the back fields. I was riding on top of the hay on the front of the tractor. This was much easier compared to holding on for dear life in the back, where there was a bar at my face, ready to smack right into my head and give me a black eye if I didn't continue to lean back. When we were on a slight uphill incline, turning ever so slightly, I felt my body start to sway to the left. Then, in what felt like slow motion, I realized I needed to grab hold of something, but found nothing. The hay started to fall off, with my body on top of it, where the both of us fell into the mud. My entire being was left in shock, where I was amazed that what had just happened, had really happened. These were my thoughts; "Are you kidding me? Did that just happen. Oh gosh. I'm sitting in a bunch of mud, and probably horse poop. Oh. My hair is probably sitting in this too. And now there's a hand coming down to help me up. Maybe I should get up, but I'm just not sure whether to laugh or cry right now. I'll get up." So I stood up and tried to wipe myself off (which, may I say was useless because my hands were covered in c-r-a-p and mud). I told myself I would be fine, and it was no big deal. There was a momentary flash of pure anger and frustration that I really pushed to not be there. Then, I realized that I would now have to go home, shower, and change. This meant I had to go home early. Which then meant I could go home and practice my song quickly before I left for mutual. So in my mind, falling in the mud was an odd tender mercy.
I practiced the song several times before going to the church. I thought I could play it, and then I couldn't. So while in the bathroom, I sincerely asked why Heavenly Father gave me such a calling, why falling in the mud wasn't actually a tender mercy, allowing me to practice more, and why He let me fail. I was frustrated with Him and how it felt like this shouldn't have been a hard thing to do. It was so small, or so it seemed. In that moment there was a lot of "Why Heavenly Father?" Then, realizing that there was a part of me somewhere that could understand why He gave me such a calling, I thought that crying over this was somewhat foolish. So, I quickly put myself together, changed into PJs, and decided I would watch Netflix to distract myself from thinking about the matter any further.
Just two days later did my dogs run away for about five hours. They were no where to be found. Upon driving around the neighborhood and up and down the road, they couldn't be seen. On my way to school, while my mother was coming back from work to take some time to look for our dogs, I sincerely believed they were probably dead. I was though that I would never see my dogs again. I prayed that they would come home, that we would find them, and they wouldn't be hurt. My prayer was answered, and after those several terrible hours, our dogs came trotting along to the house across from us. I called them over, filled with frustration and love for them simultaneously, and thanked the Lord for bringing them home safe.
That week I also had some papers due, and a decent amount of school work. Towards the end of the week, I was really irritated about all the had happened. The mud, the piano, the dogs, the school. All of these little things that I felt were so easily solvable and within my control to fix. For eighteen years I've been used to dealing with things I couldn't solve. They were things that felt completely out of my control. Adoption, death, depression, and every other thing I've dealt with, one after another. These things are events that are huge, and things I know I can't necessarily fix or handle, or stop from happening. They feel so out of my hands. It's during these times I turn to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, because I know they can help me handle anything and everything. But with the stress I've been dealing with to handle everything, it doesn't seem so big to me. Yes, I'm still praying, but I haven't been asking for help to handle the small stressors I've been experiencing. For me, they don't feel big enough to ask for help. They seem within my reach of being solved on my own. Like, if I don't procrastinate so much, I won't have as much homework to do in a day. Or, if I practice a song enough, I'll be able to play it just fine. Solvable.
Today during seminary, yet another morning where I was so close to staying home, I realized the real solution to these problems. We were talking about the story of Naman, how he was told to wash in the river Jordan seven times, and his leprosy would be healed. Such a small and simple task, that it didn't feel it would work. We talked of how the Lord is always there for us. How He can help us with whatever we need, even at our lowest of lows. Praying is a small and simple thing, but when we do it, we can have powerful results. So while listening, I realized that I wasn't asking for help. I haven't been specifically asking Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ if they would help me manage these little things that were piling up into big things. I know now that this is what I need to do, and I didn't clearly see it before today. For weeks I've just been walking around with a level of stress constantly hovering around me, like a dark cloud that doesn't seem to have an effect, but after a while, it really does.
Praying during the huge trials is one of those things that is really important, that I've learned. But these "little" things are something I can pray about too. It's like when you're a child and you lose your favorite stuffed animal. You pray to find it. It seems so small, but it's a pretty big deal to you as a kid. These smaller things may not seem so big to others, and even me just yesterday, but they can pile up, and it's still important to not forget the Lord.
I may not have felt like my prayers were answered last Tuesday. As I was writing this, I thought about my dogs and how I prayed for them to return home safely. They did. In my mind, I think that was the Lord telling me, "Maggie, I'm here. I hear you and I don't forget you." He always hears us and answers us in someway, somehow, somewhere, even if we don't feel it. He's there for everything, no matter how big or small. We have to have patience and look carefully for his hand in our lives.
Now that I've come to this realization that the "little" things are just as important to pray for as the "big" things, I have already started to feel more peace, and I'm grateful for the gospel and how I can learn and come closer to Christ.
As always thanks for reading!
---Maggie