Lessons from Mary

This is the 100th post of this blog. During the fall I saw that this was coming up, and during autumn time I always get so reminiscent, and so I kept thinking I needed to make my 100th post a list of memories from 100 different places in my life. I even started taking notes and jotted down sixty or so places I have memories from. But alas, autumn has passed and so has New Year's Day, and subsequently I feel much more forward- than backward-looking right now, so I guess I'll have to save that for a "103 Memories" post or something along those lines. :)

But for now I want to talk about lessons I've learned from Mary. During the month of December I thought about Mary a lot. And here's why:

Since graduating from college I have had three different jobs where I have worked closely with young children. I can remember how stressful college was--I always felt this burden of deadlines and work piling up and not being smart or fast enough to do it all in time and do it well. I don't experience that kind of stress anymore, and I am honestly grateful for that, but I do have a different burden I carry with me now--the burden of taking care of children.

This burden can feel so heavy at times and I feel so inadequate to carry it. Some days I come home and think, "I cannot do this. I cannot meet the needs of these children. I cannot give them what they deserve." It is a terrible feeling that I have battled these last two and half years, and I am so grateful for how the Lord has helped me learn how to battle it. But some days it is honestly overwhelming and I worry so much that I have, am, or will fail the children who are counting on me to help them develop their divine potential.

This burden is so different from the burden I carried in college, because my ability to carry it not only affects me, but many other innocent people. In college if I failed, I felt it was a blow to my self-esteem, future schooling possibilities, or efforts I had put in to succeed, but it wasn't like others would suffer if I didn't get an A on a test. But now, if I fail at my work, innocent children suffer. I know that may sound overly dramatic to you, but that's how it feels to me, and it is so real. Even the possibility of it can feel so debilitating and discouraging.

Furthermore, the management at Creme has made it very clear to me that the parents of the children in my class pay a lot of money to ensure that their child does not have any problems. And that responsibility falls on me, their teacher, the person who is with them 8 hours a day, day in and day out. I have been reminded more than once that the parents pay enough money that their child should be well-adjusted, well-mannered, advanced academically, and treated as though they were the only and most important child in the class. It's enough to make a person go bonkers.

And I do, occasionally. I come home thinking, "I cannot do this! I cannot make these children perfect! I just cannot do it!"

And the truth is I'm exactly right. I cannot make these children perfect. And I cannot expect myself to be a perfect teacher. I am going to make mistakes. I am going to lose patience and talk to a child who is driving me crazy in a less than gentle and calm voice. I am going to occasionally have to ignore the needs of some children to attend to the need of another. I am going to teach some lessons that just do not reach the minds or hearts of my children. I am at times going to be focused on something else and fail to intervene in a situation when my children get hurt or hurt each other. I'm sorry, but it's going to happen. As much as I try to never let these things happen, they do.

And that is why the last two and half years have been such a tutorial on applying the Atonement in my life. Since working with children, I have felt such a daily, intense, desperate need for Jesus Christ to save me and the children I work with from the mistakes I make, the weaknesses I have, and the good things I fail to do. When I come home at the end of a hard day, I have to believe that Christ will make up for my weaknesses and protect the children from any real harm, or else I would buckle under the reality that I alone am not enough for these children. I believe that nothing can make you realize your total dependence on the Lord like working with children can.

I am so grateful for the grace of Jesus Christ. I am so grateful that I can rely on Him to make things right when everything goes all wrong, despite my good intentions. I am so grateful that I know that He watches over my children, that He loves them, and that He will heal their wounds and in time make up for whatever I can't provide for them. It is such a gift to know this and be able to feel this at the end of a hard day.

During Christmastime I thought a lot about Mary, because she actually was asked to raise a perfect Child. I thought about the pressure she must have felt to be asked to raise the Savior of the world--I know it must have felt enormous--and I wondered how she handled it. I think she must have handled it beautifully, because in the scriptures, she seems so peaceful and serene about the whole situation. I thought if she were like me, she would have freaked out over the fact that she didn't even have a nice room to bring Jesus into the world in. She would have worried that the stable wasn't good enough, that their ability to give the Savior what He deserved was sub-par and a real disappointment. She would worry that she was failing Him, that she didn't have what it takes (both temporally and spiritually) to raise the Boy who would become the great Redeemer. But I don't get the sense that she felt that way.

And why not? Because she trusted that God was taking care of them, that He was watching over them, that as long as she tried her best, it would be acceptable and pleasing to the Lord. Even a lowly stable. She had faith that no mistake she made was too big for God to fix, to make right, to overcome, and to overshadow. Nothing she did or did not do could prevent the Savior from fulfilling His mission on earth. She had complete and total trust in God and His power to save, and because of that, she had peace and serenity in her heart.

When talking about this with my sister Audra and her husband Mike, he pointed out how even when she forgot Him in Jerusalem (talk about big mistake!), it didn't change the course of things. The mission of the Savior was something much greater than her, and nothing she did or did not do could stop it. And that's what I want to have faith in everyday. The mission of helping these children is so much greater than just me and my works--I am just a small part of the Savior's mission to save and bless their lives. I can and should do all I can to help them, but in the end, it is the Savior who saves them, not me. And I need to have faith in the Savior's power to complete that mission of salvation. It is exciting to be a part of it, and that's how I should see it--exciting, not discouraging.

To all you who work with children, I pray for you to feel this peace in your life. I hope we can all have the faith in our hearts to trust in the Atoning power of Jesus Christ to forgive, heal, and overcome the effects of our mistakes.