Sherri, Caryn, Michael, Michelle, and Kirby, living in "Butch's House."
As a young mother I was, on occasion, stunned by the faith of my daughter, Michelle. Viewing the world from an adult perspective, it is sometimes remarkable to realize how pure a young child’s faith really is.
I will relate three incidents that remain indelibly fixed in my mind and which display Michelle’s faith. The first occurred when we were living in Payson, UT. It must have been 1989, so Michelle would have been almost 4 years old. We were living in “Butch’s house.” The kids had helium balloons and I remember we were standing on the carport when Michelle’s balloon slipped away from her and started floating upwards into the blue summer sky. Tears filled her beautiful blue eyes and her lip trembled. We stood there watching her bright balloon rise up into the air when she asked me, “Mom, where is my balloon going?” I replied, trying to soothe her, “It’s going up to Jesus.” Her face suddenly beamed with happiness, “Is He going to bring it back to me?” I was suddenly taken aback by the faith of this child, who at that moment was sure that Jesus would soon be dropping by to return her balloon to her. I could almost imagine it happening myself. I felt that He wouldn’t consider the task beneath him at all, and it made me smile.
Caryn, Bethany, Michael, Meagan, Kyle, Rebecca, and Michelle
The next incidence occurred during a Family Home Evening lesson. We were living in Orem then. It would have been about 1996, so Michelle was probably 11 years old. I was teaching a lesson. I believe we had watched a short clip depicting Jesus walking on the water and we were discussing how the disciples were frightened as they saw him approach, walking on the water. I asked, “Wouldn’t you be scared if you saw Jesus walking toward you on the water?” Michelle’s answer, “Of course not! Why would you be afraid of Jesus?” Again, my rational viewpoint dissolved, as I viewed the scene from the eyes of a child,
Kyle, Caryn, Bethany, Michael, Sherri, and Michelle
Lastly, there was a night, years ago, when we were living in Las Vegas. I’m not sure of the year. It was early 2000s. Michelle would have been 15 or so. I don’t remember the exact cause of the incident, but it was during some bad years while we were dealing with some serious bi-polar symptoms, and some financial hardships. Something had happened. There had been a blow up. Kirby had left the house in a rage, determined not to return. There had been some sort of a scene, and Kirby had grabbed some of his things and left in the car. I was in my bedroom, in a sort of desperate despair. I was very frightened, disheartened, and sad. I knew Kirby was currently at risk for suicide, and that I had no way of knowing where he had gone or when, or if, he would return to us safely. The kids had gone to bed, but I could not sleep. I could just sit and pray, and hope for his safe return. Quietly Michelle came into the room. She sat by me on the bed and put her hand on my shoulder. “Mom,” she said, “I’ve been praying, and I just wanted you to know, Dad’s going to be alright.” At that moment, I was so grateful for the faith of a child, and the answer she had received to her prayer. She left the room, and with peace restored, I slept. A few hours later, Kirby returned to the house. He was not physically harmed. We were able to somehow survive the storm of those years, and come through, more or less intact. We have since been able to work through those issues and come through the storms to a brighter day.
"The refiner’s fire is real, and qualities of character and righteousness that are forged in the furnace of affliction perfect and purify us and prepare us to meet God."--Quenton L. Cook, 2011,
The Songs They Could Not Sing.
Our family today:
Front Row, Michael, Shantel, Meagan, Sherri, Becci
Back Row, Bethany, Michelle, Kyle, Kirby, Sammy, Caryn
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