"We seldom get into trouble when we speak softly. It is only when we raise our voices that the sparks fly and tiny molehills become great mountains of contention."
We
had a good bishop in Seattle who used to give young marrieds'
firesides. On one occasion, the topic was church callings.
He
said to us, "Don't ever come to me and ask to be released.
You may in fact need to be released, but if you trust me to receive
the inspiration that you should be called, then please trust me to
have the inspiration to know when you should be released."
He
explained that he did not
mean
that we shouldn't come to him when we were having problems. On
the contrary, that was exactly what he wanted us to do. But
there's a difference, he explained, between coming to meet with him
about our difficulties, and walking into his office with an
already-formed assumption.
If your circumstances have changed,
he said, come and talk to him. If your challenges are getting
the better of you, come and talk to him. Then when he has a
chance to listen, question, and get a good picture of what is going
on, then trust the keys of his
calling to know how to answer. Sometimes, he said, that answer
is that you do need to be released. Sometimes that answer is
counsel for how you can meet those challenges or adjust to fit
those circumstances. Either way, he promised, you will receive
the Lord's answer and it will be for the best, but if you walk into
the bishop's office with your mind made up you may not hear the
Lord's voice.
It can be a challenge to be told you are meant
to continue in a calling which you feel has become impossible.
It can be a challenge to accept a release when your heart is deeply
invested, and you hope to find a different answer. But he was
teaching correct principles: you have to trust in the keys of
the one who holds them.
In one stewardship in my life so far,
I had the keys of selecting or proposing those who should serve.
I was the Primary president, and while the bishopric had the final
responsibility and actually extended those callings, I was the one
with the responsibility of pondering, praying, and submitting those
recommendations, though I would have input from my counselors.
Then I would be answered, after the bishopric had a chance to discuss
and pray, with a yes or no, then (if yes) the calling would be
extended and the person being called would have to accept.
I
was called to this position on the last Sunday that the ward was
meeting out of our building because of lengthy repairs, and with
stake conference the next Sunday I had two weeks to get ready.
In our borrowed building, our schedule had been curtailed.
Primary had been meeting for an hour only--we had sacrament meeting
and then third hour--and there had been no classes, just singing and
sharing time. I had been serving in the Young Women.
There were three Primary teachers, and one of them came to me and
said that she could not continue because of family problems.
One initially said that he could stay, though his wife was very ill,
but called me later and said that, upon reflection, he didn't feel he
could continue. (Three days later he had a massive stroke, so
whatever his desires, it wasn't possible.) I think one was moving.
The only other persons in Primary at that point were the presidency
who had just been released.
It was quite a challenge to begin
a regular schedule, settle down the children, and be ready to go.
First, of course, there had to be teachers! One of my
counselors ended up in a classroom, and the other one was legally
blind--you couldn't just hand her a manual and point her into a room
to go cover an absence.
I
prayed and thought and prayed some more, met with my counselors, and
submitted names which received priority consideration, and we had
three teachers plus my first counselor that initial week, and we were
ready to go. We didn't have a very big Primary. We had
one Sunbeam (4-year-old), and two Stars (one 5, one 6-year-old), for
example. Developmentally, that is not ideal--there is such
difference between 4 and 6 -- but they were all in one class, and
that was the class my first counselor was teaching. I had no
better alternative.
We were sparse, but we had very good
people in place. This was February. Then it all changed again
in May when the ward boundaries were realigned to bring in more
families, and the Primary doubled. It brought in a new bishop,
too. I still had only three teachers, and now I had to have my
counselor out of that fill-in situation. That class with one 4,
one 5, one 6-year-old? Now there were eight new kids in that
room. As you can imagine, the first week was chaos. All I
had to do was bring the bishop's counselor up to that room, point,
and say, Help! (I was not acquainted with him before that day, but he
was a lovely man, and later ended up becoming the next bishop.)
This
was a very different situation in one other respect -- I did not know
most of the new people. I knew some because we had been here
long enough that others had been divided off from our ward once upon
a time and were now “back.” But most of the
families with children were new to me, and the bishop gave me a new
roster of members and said, pray and submit names to me.
If I
had any doubts that I needed to rely on the Lord in my stewardship,
they were fled now. And a funny thing happened -- my three
younger children all got the chickenpox -- at the same time.
The older ones had done this one at a time, a few years earlier.
I was housebound due to sick children.
I
was inclined to be a little stir-crazy, but there was space in my
schedule and thoughts to run down names and prayers and pursue the
feelings that came. It was a very instructive experience to
consider, ask, feel and then seek to clarify the Spirit's response. I
had some very strong answers. I didn't have final say, of
course -- the bishopric had to consider and pray and decide.
But we got staffed with the right people who served with faith and
heart.
I can testify that inspiration guides the daily work of
the Church. Human beings aren't perfect, and their
implementation of the Lord's perfect plan is not always flawless, but
it smooths out over time with prayer and charity. Trust the
keys as our Seattle bishop counseled, pray for those who lead, and be
patient with the bumps in the road. We all have the same
calling to love and serve and make a meaningful difference, whatever
our present position may be.
Marian J. Stoddard was born in Washington, D.C., and grew up in its Maryland suburbs. Her
father grew up in Carson City, Nevada, and her mother in Salt Lake City, so she was always
partly a Westerner at heart, and she ended up raising her family in Washington State. Her family
took road trips all over the United States and Canada, so there were lots of adventures.
The adventures of music, literature, and art were also valued and pursued. Playing tourist always
included the local museums as well as historical sites and places of natural beauty. Discussions
at home, around the dinner table or working in the kitchen, could cover politics, philosophy, or
poetry, with the perspective of the gospel underlying all. Words and ideas, and testimony and
service, were the family currency.
Marian graduated from Winston Churchill High School in Potomac, Maryland, and attended the
University of Utah as the recipient of the Ralph Hardy Memorial Scholarship, where she was
graduated with honors, receiving a B.A. in English. She also met the love of her life, a law
student, three weeks after her arrival; she jokes that she had to marry him because her mother
always wanted a tenor in the family. (She sings second soprano.) They were married two years
later and have six children and six grandchildren (so far). She treasures her family, her friends,
and her opportunities to serve.
Visit Marian at her blog, greaterthansparrows. You can contact her at
bloggermarian@gmail.com.
Marian and her husband live in Tacoma, Washington. Together they teach those who are
preparing to go to the temple for the first time, and she also teaches a Stake Relief Society
Institute class.