How Firm a Foundation

In the group that I attend church with, commonly referred to as a ward, people are given jobs. They serve on a volunteer basis, and the jobs run anywhere from Bishop, which is the main clergyman in our group, to nursery worker, which is the person who teaches the children aged 18 months to 3 years. My job consists of playing the piano for the kids aged 3 years to 12 years. There is a portion every Sunday that the music leader spends just teaching the children songs. Some of them are silly, some of them are sacred, but every single one of them revolves around a basic teaching of the church and our gospel.

Today, in Primary, the music leader decided to teach the older kids a new song. I sat at my place behind the piano while she explained the lyrics to the kids and helped them learn the melody. While I was waiting for my turn to play the music, I started reading over the lyrics to the chosen song. This is a song that I have grown up singing. The three main verses I know almost by heart, and I can sing it without thinking about it much. In our Hymnal, some hymns have additional verses written in smaller print below the music, and they are considered optional when singing. Many songs have as many as 7-10 verses, and rarely do we sing past the first three or four. As a result, these verses go largely unnoticed by most of the members of our church. Today, I am grateful for the opportunity that I had to spend time studying this piece of music. Lately I have felt the foundation of my faith shudder. It has creaked, it has bent, and in places it has broken. I long to feel whole in the gospel again. I long to feel the love of my Savior as I go throughout every day. It's a struggle that is not new to me. I remember the dark months two summers ago, when I was pregnant with Brooklyn and it seemed like Ammon would never get a job. I am eternally grateful that his parents put up with us invading their home during those months, but I wanted to strike out on our own. I wanted my own home, and it seemed as though in the long months of waiting--we were being punished. One particular Sunday, I remember sitting in tears on the steps in their foyer. I felt weak. I felt small, insignificant. Most of all, I felt faithless. Ammon tried to talk to me, and I wept as he assured me that my faith was strong, and would see us through the trial of unemployment. I told him with great vehemence that I didn't FEEL the spirit with me. I didn't FEEL guidance, and I didn't FEEL comfort. How it hurt me.

Very, very soon after that, Ammon miraculously got a job. Brooklyn was born, we moved to Cincinnati, and life began anew. Briefly, after Ammon died, I turned my life over whole-heartedly to my Savior. I placed complete faith in his plan for me, and let His spirit guide my every action. Soon, the weight of grief began to weaken that bond. After a few weeks I stumbled, and then I fell. I have tried so many times since those first few months to draw myself back up, and to earn my right to have the spirit with me. Today, as I read the lyrics to this inspired hymn, I am once again feeling as though it might be possible. Once again, music has reached my heart in a way that nothing else can.

How Firm a Foundation

When through the deep waters I call thee to go,
The rivers of sorrow shall not thee o'erflow,
For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,
And sanctify to thee, and sanctify to thee,
And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.

When through fiery trials they pathway shall lie,
My grace, all sufficient, shall be thy supply.
The flame shall not hurt thee; I only design
Thy dross to consume, thy dross to consume,
Thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine.