Spiritual Sunday- Dad, are you still there?

The Power of Personal Prayer

Today was yet another wrestle with Sissy.  I used to scoff at others who make the same old stale joke of having kids when you are young...blah  blah  blah.  I no longer scoff.  I'm freakin tired. 
The usual morning battles of eating a decent breakfast, not throwing every toy in the house, and adding in potty training all made the idea of attending church a little overwhelming.  However, knowing that the times I find myself making an excuse to miss church are the times that I need to be there most.  Today turned out to be no exception.

Luka woke up ill (too much Leatherby's?  He's such a party animal), and since it was too late to find a substitute for his Sunday School class, I offered to pinch hit.
I can usually whip something up, teaching comes easy to me.  It's about the only thing that does, and since I knew the kids in his class, I figured it would be fun.

After taking Sissy potty, and safely depsositing her in her nursery class, I made my way towards Luka's group of kids.  I had read through the lesson material during a few quiet minutes while Splenda had Sissy out in the foyer during Sacrament meeting, got the gist, and had prepared my thoughts of what to include in the time I would have to teach.

Our discussion centered on personal prayer.  We talked about why, how and when we should pray.  Pretty standard answers.  We used some every day experiences to relate to applying the principles and then I wrapped up with a story from the lesson manual that touched me on a very deep level.

It told of a young girl named Stephanie who was babysitting for a family in her neighborhood.  She was doing great and felt comfortable while she was caring for the children, but once they had gone to bed for the evening, she became frightened.  The nighttime creaks of an unfamiliar house and listening to neighbors arguing made her uncomfortable and uneasy.  She was fearful and wondered what to do. 
The thought occured to her that she could call her father who was a firefighter.  He would still be awake and she could get a hold of him on his private line at the firestation.

She was able to reach her father and poured out her fears to him.  He tried to calm her down and instructed her to lie down on the couch, try to relax and rest.  She was too scared to do that.  He assured her some more by explaining that he would stay on the line with her, until the parents returned.

She followed his guidance, lied down on the couch and kept the phone to her ear.  Over the next two hours, she would find herself bolting awake out of fear and calling out, "Dad are you still there?".
He would gently answer her yes, never once hanging up

Of course, by the time I was done, I was in tears.  But then again, I kind of roll that way.  When I feel the Spirit, I'm a crier.  And in front of these 12 year old's no less, but to me the analogy of this story is powerful.

Life on this earth is often frightening.  Many times, I am afraid, uncertain, and need reassurance.  My Father in Heaven is there, on the other line, all the time.  I simply need to place the call, share my fears and concerns, and then relax knowing that he won't hang up.
I thought a little deeper about the telephone comparison.  I live and die by my cell phone.  If I have forgotten it, I feel like I have forgotten my right arm.  I use it to make sure my loved ones are safe, to check on the whereabouts of my children, to chat,  keep in touch and strenthen bonds with friends and family on a daily basis. 

Personal Prayer is much the same thing.  It's our line of communication to our Father.  Our way of checking in, letting Him know we are safe, our whereabouts, chatting to stay in touch and strengthing our bond.  I can no more leave my home in the morning without my "call" to my Father in Heaven than I can my cell phone.

I shared those feelings with those cute 12 year old's.  I think they might have been a little freaked out that Luka's mom was bawling.  Well, maybe the boys were, the girls are used to it from YW.  And while I have no idea if they felt the same Spirit that I did, I do know  that I walked out of classroom 1 a little better.  More committed to being a better daughter of God.  Better at staying in touch with Him.  Better at relying more on my Father for help. 

"Dad, are you still there?"      
Yes, He always will be. 
This I know.