every time i think i know

I thought I knew what it meant.

The atonement, I mean. I thought I knew. I grew up being taught about Jesus, that he lived a perfect life and sacrificed himself, that he atoned for the sins of mankind and because of that sacrifice we can be forgiven of our sins. And because I knew that, because I've always been taught that, I think maybe sometimes I'm a little too casual about it. Kind of like that friend who always pulls through, so sometimes you forget what an awesome friend you have. Know what I mean?

A couple of weeks ago a friend asked me to participate in a musical program for church. It's the stories of women in the Old Testament, women who met Jesus, told through song. They asked me to be a narrator, and I was like, yeah. I have a voice. I can narrate. So I said okay.

And I went to rehearsal and there were all these women with these incredible voices, voices that move and melt and do all the awesome things that a voice can do and I was like....uh....hey, guys. I'll just be over here, talking. Don't mind me.

I kind of wondered what I could possibly add. I mean, these women are amazing. I'm a tad embarrassed to admit that I didn't really give much thought to my part at first. I kind of figured no one would be paying me any mind, until after one of the rehearsals the director asked us narrators to really think about what we were saying, about what we felt, what we had a testimony of. And I was like, "right. Think. I can think."

So, I thought about it. I thought about my own personal experience with the Savior. When I was teeny tiny my parents were how I knew about Jesus. They told me He loved me, and I believed them. They told me that if I was afraid, or if I was hurt or if I needed help, Jesus knew how to help because of the atonement. And that was enough. I didn't really understand exactly how, but mom and dad really believed, and that belief was enough for me.

Then this one time I got a summer job. I had to feed our neighbor's dogs and water their lawn while they went on vacation. They paid me a lot of money. And all I had to do was unlock the gate and water the lawn and feed the dogs.Seriously, it was like fifteen bucks. It was going to keep me in Snickers bars for like two months.

So this one morning I went, only the key wouldn't open the gate, and I just climbed over and did my thing and it was fine except for when I needed to go back home I was like, shoot. I can't climb back over the gate.

And I was alone and I was scared and the dogs were just big enough to be scary and the only thing I knew to do was pray. So, I prayed. Maybe that was the first time I ever prayed for something because I really needed it. I knelt on the concrete by the fence and I folded my arms and I prayed like there was no tomorrow, which at the moment felt like a very real possibility.

Heavenly Father, please, tell my mom. Please, tell my mom. I need help. The gate's too high and I'm too small. Just please.

And I sat there and cried and resigned myself to a fate of eating dog food and sleeping on grass and then like fifteen minutes later, I heard the most beautiful thing in the whole wide world:

My mom's voice. And she was like "Andrea, are you okay?" and I was like "noI'mnot okayI'mscared" and I tossed my mom the key and she opened the gate and we walked home.

And I asked her how she knew. She said she was making her bed, and she heard a voice that told her she should go check on Andrea. Only she was sure I was fine, and so she ignored it and then the voice came again, loud this time, and it said GO CHECK ON ANDREA and she stopped making the bed and she found me. I was lost, and she found me.

That's the first time I remember feeling what I had heard my parents tell me for so many years: that Jesus knew. He knew how to help. Not just that He knew how to help, but that He would help.

And I thought I knew it all then, everything about how the Savior loved me.

And then it was years later and I wasn't in such a great place in my life. I was smack in the middle of my angst ridden teenage girl phase and it had been a long time since I'd thought about that morning when I knelt on the concrete so afraid, a long time since I'd thought about needing anything other than exactly what I wanted right then.

But then something happened and it was bad. I woke up and there was someone in my room and then my world changed from one where scary things are only in movies to a world where someone goes into your room who doesn't belong there.

And I was scared, and I needed help. And I prayed. I prayed and I felt love and I couldn't explain it because I didn't feel like I deserved it, but it was there and it was real and I knew where it came from.

Then it was after and sometimes I couldn't stop crying and nobody could make it go away, but then I remembered that the atonement means to forgive everyone and I wondered, could I do that? And so I gave the hurt I had over to the Lord and He washed away the anger and it isn't there anymore.

And it was a miracle. Something so much bigger than me, something so wrong that nobody could make better and a hole so huge it could have swallowed me up and it was like someone had taken a magic eraser pencil to all the hurt and I thought I knew, then, everything there was to know about how the Savior loved me.

Now, it's, well, now. And I have a good life, a good husband, plenty of blessings. More than I deserve.

But I want to be a parent, and I'm not.

I don't understand why. I've tried. I've been patient. I've said things like "it'll happen when it's time" and "I'm just trying to be happy in the moment" and "everything happens for a reason" but there comes a point when all the words don't work and you see it for what it is: hard. Just plain hard.

I've gone to the doctor. I've been poked and prodded and my body has become this crazy science experiment and I am left with only questions and no answers and faced with the possibility that this might be a problem without an answer. A problem with no cure. I feel broken, sometimes.

And one day I was feeling angry and sad and wondering why this is so hard for me, because I can do hard things and then I realized, maybe I can do hard things, but not alone. I need help. And that's exactly what the atonement is there for.

I have to believe that, though. And sometimes believing is hard. Pain is so familiar, sometimes. Pain is real and justified, and hope sometimes isn't, you know?

Maybe this is a problem that can't be fixed. I don't have that answer yet. And while the answer might not be my giving birth, here's what I believe: the atonement can wipe away all that pain and yuckiness and I can be happy.

I believe I'm going to be a parent someday. I believe it. I feel it. I know it. And maybe there is nothing in my life right now to make me think that's true, but I don't care. I so don't care. Because I know it.

I don't think I know anymore. I think the Savior knows. He knows me. That's what I think. That's what I believe.

That's what I know.