Just after lunch as I cleaned things up in the kitchen, I overheard Allie on the back porch, her usual sanctuary. She can spend hours out there just looking out at the lake, belting out songs like Natasha Bedingfield's "Pocketful of Sunshine," Bon Jovi's "Shot Through the Heart,"or even some song from
Barbie in The Princess and the Pauper. But this time it was a little bit different.
She sang out, "We thank thee, o God, for a prophet..." I smiled to myself, and peeked out at her. Such a sweet innocence... such remarkable faith. There is no doubt in that child's mind and heart that Thomas S. Monson is a prophet of God. She really has no idea that most people don't know that as well.
Suddenly I was worried what the neighbors might think. I mean, its doctrine isn't as universal in the Christian world as the message in "I Am a Child of God." Then I shook off that thought. Shame on me for thinking that. She is testifying to the world that mankind indeed does have a prophet to "guide us in these latter-days." That the heavens have opened once again, that the Lord does commune with man. We need not be fearful of the state of the world when we have a prophet of God to lead us through the turmoil with His guidance. It's a remarkable truth-- one that brings comfort and assurance in such trying times.
And then I thought of myself as a little girl-- maybe seven or eight years old. I could feel the wind blowing past my face as I whirled down the street on my bike, as I did each and every Sunday after church. I would breath in the fresh air, soaking in the green in the Eucalyptus trees, listening to the sparrows and mourning doves. And I would sing.
"The Spirit of God, like a fire, is burning!
The latter-day glory begins to come forth;
The visions and blessings of old are returning,
And angels are coming to visit the earth.
We'll sing and we'll shout with the armies of heaven,
Hosanna, hosanna to God and the Lamb!"
I would finish the chorus, and sing it over and over again... like no one could hear me. Ironically, I was out in the middle of the street, so
everyone could hear me. Although, the streets were normally pretty empty, so I doubt anyone paid any mind. Or did they? I suppose I never will know.
Boy, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?
My testimony of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ is sure and unwavering. The adversary tempts me with doubt, but the witness of the Spirit is powerful-- warm and good. It's a witness I dare not deny.
But it's obvious my testimony began as a small child. I learned truths and accepted them, having faith in what my parents and teachers taught me, believing they would not lie to me, believing they themselves were not mistaken. As I grew to womanhood, it was then when I gained a true testimony all my own that what I had been taught indeed was right and true.
And the cycle continues with my sweet children. Allie has no reason to believe that I would lie to her about the existence of a prophet. And in spite of my many parental mistakes, she actually doesn't believe I'm "just wrong" either. Her faith is simple and sweet-- pure. And there's no apprehension in the way she shares it, assuming everyone else knows these truths, too.
I'm sure most people don't pay her any mind... but I suppose we'll never know. Perhaps someone really is listening, more intently than we realize.
