Thursday, April 4, 2013
Last Saturday I purchased a fluffy, little yellow baby chick from Home Hardware. My plans were to show it to my Primary children and tell them how a chick breaking through his eggshell is symbolic of the Savior breaking the bonds of death. That did not happen. A far greater Easter lesson was "experienced".
By the time Sunday morning came we were all quite fond of our new family addition. He would jump out of his box and follow the person who was closest to him. He was very sociable and enjoyed company! As our Easter morning got busier I found a box that I was sure he would not be able to jump out of and placed him in it. The girls and I then headed to the kitchen to start breakfast.
Holly returned to the living room to ask her dad something and a minute later I heard her scream as she ran down the hall to her bedroom. I hurried into her room to find her visibly shaken and sobbing. Hannah and Jared were close behind and I turned to them in hopes they knew what had happened. They did. No one realized that the chick had hopped out of his box and when Holly took a step backward, her foot smashed it.
Now this might not seem like that big of a deal or it might even seem a little comical to some, but it wasn't. It was heartbreaking. Between her sobs Holly kept saying: "I don't know what to do; I don't know what to do!" After some time, she was finally able to sit down and talk, but she couldn't get the image out of her mind.
As her mother, it was horrible watching Holly and the pain she was in. I remembered back to the time when I felt the thump thump of the car tires as I ran over a cat. I remembered the sorrow and pain I felt upon realizing I had killed something. But our experiences were different and I truly didn't know the depth of Holly's sadness.
But I knew who did. I don't know if there has ever been an Easter Sunday where I was so aware and filled with gratitude for a Savior who knows exactly how we feel. I promised Holly that the atonement would swallow up her pain and take away the horror of the memory. And then I felt prompted to go and get a clean, damp wash cloth and wash Holly's feet. It was all I could do for her. Symbolically, I was washing away her sadness and sorrow and I was grateful for that sweet, tender moment.
Shortly after, Jared went into Holly's room and put his arms around her, offering to give her a father's blessing. He placed his hands on her head and began his sweet, beautiful prayer. I knew that the power of the Priesthood was the conduit to applying the Savior's atonement. Jared gave Holly the blessing, but I too, felt the power of that blessing comfort me.
I asked Holly for permission to write about this experience. There has been a healing take place during the week. The atonement is not just for our sins, it is for anything that causes us to suffer. Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me!