Letters from the Nest
https://lettersfromthenest.substack.com/p/tender-mercies
I sometimes have difficulty falling asleep after a stressful day, or if I’m anticipating challenges the next day. My brain plays the “You’re Always Messing Up and You’re Not Getting Better” song. It’s a stupid song. And it’s a lie.
To fight it, I bury myself in my blankets, lie still, and wrap my arms around myself in a tight hug. As my body relaxes, I work on the stupid song in my brain by intentionally playing a different song--not a fake, liar-lair, sad song, but Hymns or Primary songs. I sing them in my head, hugging myself until I fall asleep.
Maybe you think this is weird, but it works. Sometimes, I will mentally repeat the same song over and over. Sometimes, I go through a few different songs. As I review the lyrics, I mindfully search for eternal truths scattered in the lyrics and usually fall asleep believing I can get past the constant failure narrative.
So, back to the poopy day. Maybe “poopy” isn’t the right word. It’s not dignified, but it’s accurate. I’ll try a few other words to see if they get the point across.
I had one of those poopy challenging days yesterday. At bedtime, the sad song started playing. “You’re not learning. You’re pursuing the wrong goals. You don’t show up for your family when they need you. Maybe you should give up. Maybe you're asking for too much in life. You’ll never experience true joy and fulfillment because you’re going about it incorrectly. You’re blind to your faults and overly attuned to the faults of others.”
It’s a dumb song. It doesn’t even rhyme.
I sighed, rolled over, wrapped my arms around myself in a tight hug, and searched for truth in hymns.
One song came to mind that I hadn’t sung to myself before- probably because I didn’t know all of the words to all of the verses.
I Need Thee Every Hour by Annie S. Hawks
I need Thee every hour, most gracious Lord;
No tender voice like Thine can peace afford.Refrain:
I need Thee, oh, I need Thee;
Every hour I need Thee;
Oh, bless me now, my Savior,
I come to Thee.
I need Thee every hour, stay Thou nearby;
Temptations lose their pow’r when Thou art nigh.I need Thee every hour, in joy or pain;
Come quickly and abide, or life is vain.I need Thee every hour; teach me Thy will;
And Thy rich promises in me fulfill.I need Thee every hour, most Holy One;
Oh, make me Thine indeed, Thou blessed Son.I mentally repeated the song over and over to myself, mixing up the verses and confusing the words until I finally fell asleep.
The next morning, my alarm rang at 6:00 a.m. and 6:15 a.m. Ignore. Snooze. Ignore. At 6:35 a.m., I pulled myself out of my restless stress dreams to prepare for seminary as fast as possible.
On the drive to seminary, I had thoughts along the lines of, “Teaching seminary is hard, but you don’t learn without doing hard things,” and “Your sacrifice and your husband and children’s sacrifices for you to fulfill this calling are worth it.” and “You’re doing a good job.” and “Everything will be okay. Have trust.”
Well, that’s a better song, right? Maybe today wouldn’t be so poopy rough. I displayed my happy, confident, “I’m awake!” face and waltzed into the classroom.
The kids were so quiet. Everybody seemed tired. Had they also had a poopy difficult day yesterday?
With our class president still asleep in his bed at home, I assigned the opening and closing prayers.
“What song do you guys want to sing to open class?”
Silence. Not even eye contact. They were all looking down at their phones or study sheets. Fridays are often test days at school. I get it. They didn’t want to think about another thing like choosing a song.
Fine, I could play a hymn in video form on YouTube.
But I couldn’t get my computer to cooperate with the church wi-fi. Poo. Fiddlesticks. I didn’t feel up to playing the piano. I had butchered Called to Serve the morning before.
I look in desperation at my teaching partner. She plays the piano too. Like me, it’s not something we announce because we’re amateurs. She’s a lot better at it than me, but she doesn’t have a piano at home to practice.
“Becky, can you play us a song? I’d rather not butcher a Hymn this morning.”
She sat at the piano and leafed through the Hymns, giving the class members one more chance to make a request. Silence.
“Just play a song you know and like,” I say. “You can’t go wrong.”
“Okay, I love this one.” Becky began playing.
With the opening bars of “I Need Thee Every Hour,” I thought, “This one’s for you.” Cheesy, but true.
Unjumbled and powerful lyrics danced through my head, and tears were in my eyes.
Poo. Phooey. This class is uncomfortable with tears. Get it together, Bonni!
By the end of the song, I composed myself. Julia said the prayer.
“Thomas, are you ready for your devotional today?”
All of my seminary kids hold a special place in my heart. Goodness oozes from them. They’re funny, insightful, and caring. I can’t say enough.
Even though they don’t love sharing thoughts for devotionals because it puts them on the spot, they do it. Sometimes, they’re a little silly about it, but that’s just them trying not to be so obvious about their goodness.
I expected a somewhat silly devotional, so I was blown away by a message I knew was meant for me.
“Every adversity, every failure, every heartache, carries with it the seed of an equal or greater benefit.” - Napoleon Hill
Then Thomas elaborated with an endearing and insightful statement that when things are hard, our sacrifices are worth it, and we can expect to be compensated with greater blessings.
Any composure I had gathered after hearing “I Need Thee Every Hour” gushed out my eyeballs with fresh tears.
Did I say the class gets nervous with crying? Poor Thomas sat down after his devotional and patiently endured me tearfully praising his sweet testimony while a fellow young man retrieved a box of tissues from the next room.
The song and the quote meant something to me that morning. Maybe everybody else in the classroom experienced the usual opening song accompanied by a generic quote implying the value of faith in adversity, but I received an answer to a prayer I didn’t even realize I was praying. God understood my feelings and let me know I was doing okay. He orchestrated a way to encourage me to keep trying and reminded me of the confidence I could carry as He walked with me through barriers and setbacks that seemed impossible the day before. I had been blessed with an individualized blessing, loving-kindness, consolation, and support--a tender mercy.
Since Elder Bednar’s talk, “The Tender Mercies of the Lord,” in April 2005, the phrase “tender mercies” has become a bit cliche. I admit to rolling my eyes when I hear the oft-repeated exclamation after a significant faith-building story, “Oh, what a tender mercy!”
But what better way to describe the feeling of knowing God is aware of you because of “ the very personal and individualized blessings, strength, protection, assurances, guidance, loving-kindnesses, consolation, support, and spiritual gifts which we receive from and because of and through the Lord Jesus Christ?” (David A Bednar, “The Tender Mercies of the Lord,” General Conference, April 2005)
Sometimes, you need to know that you are heading in the right direction, that you’re doing a good job, and that you’re making progress. Like road signs on a busy highway, giving guidance and reassurance, God’s tender mercies are reliable markers to go by. As Elder Bednar said, “When words cannot provide the solace we need or express the joy we feel, when it is simply futile to attempt to explain that which is unexplainable, when logic and reason cannot yield adequate understanding about the injustices and inequities of life, when mortal experience and evaluation are insufficient to produce a desired outcome, and when it seems that perhaps we are so totally alone, truly we are blessed by the tender mercies of the Lord and made mighty even unto the power of deliverance.”
Pay attention to those messages of love, peace, and guidance. Don’t discount them. They could be the difference between a poopy disastrous day and a successful one.
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