I belong

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I learned something really cool from one of my best Christmas gifts this year.  It's a movie called 17 Miracles, by T.C. Christensen.  It chronicles several true stories from the crossing of some of the early Mormon pioneers in the Willie and Martin handcart companies.  It used to be that I would avoid movies like this because I don't like cheezy churchy movies that try to fabricate a spiritual experience with poor acting, writing, and synthesized strings, but lately these movies have been increasing in quality--and I have changed a bit too.

It was a beautiful movie, but what touched me most is that three of the people depicted in the film are my direct ancestors: Tamar Loader Ricks and her parents.  This was really cool to realize, but not because it makes me cool to be connected with people who get talked about in general conference every six months.

I sometimes get into lonely/depressed slumps when the mood is right and I start thinking to much about how nice it would be to have a husband and family of my own.  Christmas, though very joyful and full of lovely times with my parents and siblings and nephews and nieces, is usually one of those times.  This year had hit me especially hard and I crashed down from my Christmas high before my family had even departed for the day.  I slept through most of Christmas because I just couldn't face people just then, knowing that I didn't really belong in a place full of kids and spouses when I had niether.

Later on that evening, I sat down to watch this movie with my Dad because he had given it to me and was interested in seeing it too.  As I watched the struggles these people went through for something I believe in so much, I was touched, but when I realized that some of these people were part of my family, I was overwhelmed.  I felt so greatful to them, for sacrificing literally everything in the hopes that they might live in Zion and raise their families there.  One woman is quoted in the movie as saying: "It will all be worth it if my posterity stay true to the Gospel". 

That's me.  I'm somebody's hope. 

I felt so loved, just then.  I felt there were hundreds of people somewhere beyond the veil wishing me well.  Most important, I felt like a part of them; their faith, their hope, their family.  I belonged in a family of people who had given their lives for the Gospel.  It was tremendous.  I was full of gratitude.  I also felt I had a lot to live up to to make their travails truly worth it.  The stories of these people--my family--have been a great comfort to me this season.  I hope I can live up to who they were.