Called to Serve

Today I attended a mission farewell for my husband’s cousin, a wonderful 19 year old young woman. Yeah. That’s right. Nineteen.  I still can’t wrap my head around it. Ever since the prophet made the announcement on the age change, I have worked through a wide range of emotions on the subject. My first reaction was surprise, and then, unfortunately, jealousy. Because of certain factors in my life, I knew I would go on a mission if I had the opportunity, and I almost did. But my story is typical: I found the man of my dreams, and I knew what was right for me.

Choosing to marry the right person at the right time was the best choice I ever made, but I continue to struggle with the fact that I will not serve a mission as a young woman.  It was truly a loss I had to mourn. And despite what people may say, one wonderful opportunity does not automatically make up for the loss of another. 

I often imagine a life filled with service to the Lord, day in and day out.  I try to imagine devoting my time to scripture study, prayer, teaching, service, and yes, even knocking sounds kind of cool. I have heard moving stories and inspiring descriptions of missionary life.  It seems as though the measure of the Spirit in a missionary’s life is incomparable.

This kind of life seems so far from what I experience daily now that I have two small children.  Group prayer is not particularly inspiring when it must be kept under 30 seconds, and two of the four participants refuse to sit still or be quiet. Scriptures study is less than optimal when two children are clamoring for my attention.  Early morning prayers are less sincere when I am exhausted from waking up to feed the baby each night.  And of course, the desperate question of any parent to young children is “why do I even come to church?”

My time is spent cleaning, caring for children, shopping, cooking, and, oh yeah: cleaning.

This week was a particularly difficult one. I struggled with my own failings and with the drudgery of it all. I got to a very low point.  I lost my desire. I felt like I had failed, and I felt like giving up.

Then this morning we went to the missionary farewell. She was glowing, and I was happy for her. I wasn’t jealous (I think I like her too much) but I was sad. I began to feel the lack of spiritual things in my life. I wondered again why I never got the opportunity she is getting. After her wonderful talk we sang “Called to Serve.”

That was the answer to my prayers: Called to Serve.  I hate crying in public, but gosh-darn it, I did it anyways.  

Called to serve Him, Heavenly King of Glory

Chosen e’er to witness for His name

Far and wide we’ll tell the Father’s story

Far and wide His love proclaim:

Called to know the richness of His blessings

Sons and daughters, children of a King

Glad of heart His holy name confessing

Praises unto Him we’ll bring!

Onward, ever onward, as we glory in His name.

Forward, pressing forward, as a triumph song we’ll sing,

God our strength will be, press forward, ever called to serve our King. (Hymn #249)

I know that I, as a mother, am called to serve the Heavenly King of Glory.

I am called to witness for His name to my children and in my calling

I will tell the Father’s story to my children, and to all those around me.

I will proclaim His love to them

And my influence will be felt far and wide

I am called to know the richness of His blessings in my children and in my church service.

I am the daughter of a King!

I am glad of heart to confess His holy name!

Praises unto Him I’ll bring!

I will glory in his name as I press forward through the most mundane and frustrating of tasks.

I CAN press forward and sing a song of triumph.

I can press forward forever because God is my strength,

I will press forward forever, because I am called to serve my King.