It's been a while. Yesterday I found a picture of you and Cami from Haleigh's wedding. It was in a book of Christmas music, of all things. Strange, since Haleigh's wedding was in October. Funny how you tend to show up around Christmas for me.
Well, I have some news. I've been called to serve as a counselor in my ward's Young Women's presidency. I'm overwhelmed, but excited. I feel a deep responsibility to show the young women in my influence what it means to be a woman of faith.
I'll be teaching them a lesson in January on the new theme for the year, which is "Ask of God, Ask in Faith." I'm collecting stories from women of faith, asking them about a time in their life when one of their "Asks" was answered. (What would your answer be?)
Though I've asked Heavenly Father many things on many different occasions, the following is what came to my mind as what I need to share with the Young Women. I just wanted to share it here for you, and those that love you.
Merry Christmas,
Brit
When I was 21 years old, my dearest friend was killed in a bicycle/truck accident. I loved this girl like a sister, and depended on her friendship and example. My relationship with her helped forge my testimony and bring me closer to my Savior, so her death was heart-wrenching. I remember that I got a call from a mutual friend of ours on a Wednesday night, telling me that she had passed away at the hospital. The phone slipped out of my hand as I dropped to my knees on the kitchen floor and sobbed for what seemed like forever. At this time, I was living away from home; my friends and family were in Utah while I was at school in Ohio. I felt alone and abandoned and thought grief would consume me. I cried in prayer that night, asking God to send me comfort and understanding. I had never felt so hurt, never felt such anguish, never knew a heart could hurt so badly.
When my home teachers from my singles' ward found out what had happened, they made an appointment to come visit me. When I opened the door on the day of their arrival, I broke down in to tears again. They sat with me and listened to me tell of my friend, listened to me wonder at the justice of it all, wonder how God could possibly have let this happen. One home teacher, Kimball, opened his scriptures to Mosiah and read chapter 18:8-9. After he finished reading, he simply said, "We are hear to mourn with you. We don't have answers, we don't know what words to say, but we want you to know you're not alone in your grief." I felt God answer my prayers for comfort through Kimball's ministering. This was a great lesson to me about reaching out to comfort and succor others; you don't have to have answers, you just have to be willing to feel what they feel, and let them know they aren't alone.
My second home teacher, Spencer, offered to give me a priesthood blessing of comfort. In that blessing, I was promised that I would be met at the veil by my recently deceased friend when my time on earth was over. Looking forward to that reunion has anchored me through many hardships in my life. When other things seemed to be falling around me, when I lost faith in other things or other people or even myself, I could grab on to that promise that I'd be met by Georgia at the veil. I strive to live up to her example, strive to live worthy of her meeting me at the veil and walking with me into the presence of our Savior. I feel God has given me at least some kind of understanding through this promise. Though I miss my friend so dearly, I use her death to make sure my life has meaning, to make sure I live the life of a true disciple of Christ, to make sure I treat others well (especially those I love) because you never know which day will be their last.
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