I
decided that I was going to write my personal history, and as a
starting point I sat down to make a list of all the callings I have
ever had. It ended up being a long list since I left home at
eighteen, and I’m not sure I remembered all of them.
My
history of service began with the calling, as a college freshman, to
lead the hymns in Sunday School. It was both a relief to have
something I felt I could do — lead music — and a
challenge to not just stand and direct for sacrament meeting, but to
have to get up in front of everyone and teach that practice hymn,
which was part of the opening exercises before everyone broke for
classes. I would have just hidden quietly in the back of the chapel,
left to myself.
That
same bishop was inspired to offer me the calling I would have picked
first in a heartbeat the following year, teaching Spiritual Living in
Relief Society. I wasn’t counting on a perfect service life
forever, but this was two for two. I was happy with this principle
of inspiration for those who held the keys.
In
our married student ward the first thing that happened was that we
were assigned to the teacher development class. That took me out of
my confidence zone but in a direction I wanted, into better skills in
what I desired to do most of all, which was teach. Life made its own
plans, and I didn’t end up teaching school, but I have used
those lessons all of my life in the Church.
I
was offered the chance to use them quickly, as I was called to be
Primary Inservice instructor in our first ward out in the real world.
I was still teaching adults, who were teaching the children. Then
when we moved from Seattle to Tacoma, I was called to teach the
seven-year-olds in junior Sunday School — to see if I had
learned anything, I figured. You taught about how to teach children,
now you get to try teaching them yourself. It was a natural
progression.
Skipping
ahead maybe two years, with three preschoolers and a major crisis in
my life, the calling I never saw coming was Relief Society counselor.
The new Relief Society president was a widow, seventy years old and
semi-retired. She had been the ward choir director for thirty years,
and I don’t think she saw this coming either. The first
counselor was close to forty, and I didn’t know her well.
I
was stressed at that point with family problems, and the bishop was
well aware of that. I wasn’t old enough — experienced
enough — to do this! Sure, I had had three callings in this
ward at the same time, but they weren’t tough ones
individually. How could I possibly deal with my life and do this?
This
one was so far out of my league that I was stunned, but the bishop
was firm, and said that Sister Broomhead was clear in her mind that I
was the one: I was to be homemaking counselor if I would accept. As
a well-programmed good Saint, who had seen all along the way,
so far,
a progression of divine tutelage in my callings to serve, I said yes,
still totally stunned.
I
learned some important lessons in that service. When I was set
apart, I was blessed that I would have inspiration not only for the
responsibilities of my calling, but that the Holy Ghost would also
give me more insight into the answers for my personal challenges. The
message was that I would have more help through this service than I
would be able to find on my own. It was a way to answer my need.
I
also didn’t have to be fully prepared, primed, and experienced
in order to do this. I had to be willing and prayerful, and I would
be led through what was required.
We
didn’t have a luncheon chairman for five months, and we had a
luncheon every month as part of homemaking meeting. We didn’t
have a homemaking leader, the sister who coordinates the projects and
classes (sewing, crafts, cooking, quilts) provided for the sisters,
for a couple of months longer. The homemaking counselor — me —
had to fill in for those responsibilities; we had at least
immediately replaced me as sewing instructor. But my husband was
willing to arrange his schedule to be with the girls; I knew that he
could do diapers, baths, and all their routines pretty well.
We
did eventually get both of those homemaking department spots filled,
but I was wearing extra hats for quite a while, and the calling was
demanding even without covering the extra bases.
The
first time I had to conduct Relief Society, I took a deep breath and
imagined that I was any one of the good sisters I had sat and watched
do this greetings and announcements stuff. I pretended I was fine,
relieved that all those expectant faces looking back at me were very
kind.
I
managed not to bolt or make unpardonable blunders, and we all laughed
a little, gently. We all felt new at this, even the white-haired new
president, and we shared a love of the gospel and a love for the
sisters.
I
did learn a lot about the Relief Society as I tried not to let these
big new shoes fall right off my feet as I clomped along in my
responsibilities.
Those shoes seemed to fit better as they got broken in; though the
calling was challenging, I came to love it and feel like I couldn’t
imagine being anywhere else.
Then
came the day that the bishop called me in to speak to him. He told
me that I needed to be released. No, there wasn’t a new
presidency being called, just a replacement for me. He told me that
I needed to be home.
What
immediately popped into my head (but not out of my mouth) was, “But
I don’t want to be home!” Oh! Oops. Not good — I
guess he’s right, I do need to be home. My children needed me.
My husband needed more of me, and less strain on his life filling in
for me, and I had come to use the needs of the calling to escape the
problems we were dealing with otherwise, without really recognizing
it. It was time for that to change.
The
next Sunday, after the customary announcements over the pulpit and a
vote of thanks, one of the older sisters asked me if the Relief
Society presidency had been released.
“No,
just me.”
“Oh,
so what’s your new calling?”
“I
don’t have one. Nothing right now, I guess.” For the
first time since I had started school as a newly-minted adult, I
didn’t have a calling. I didn’t have one for a while.
The
Lord saw what I did not. My time away was done for the moment. He
had taught me that there was much I could offer even though I felt
unable.
But the welfare of our families is always our most important work.
Sometimes,
when we think that we couldn’t possibly manage anything else in
our lives, we are asked to serve, not as a further burden but as an
opportunity. Sometimes, we might be reminded that home has to have
all of our attention right now.
Always,
the Lord knows and illuminates the difference. It comes down to
following the path of inspiration, being in tune, both us and our
leaders, and trusting in His wisdom and claiming His help. He, after all, is our Master Teacher.
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.