"We're Safe."

I had a sweet experience a couple weeks ago, and haven't been able to stop thinking about it. Eliot and I were out on some afternoon errands, and just as we pulled into the parking lot at the grocery store, the sprinkling rain turned to pouring rain. Eliot was nervous, and I did my best to juggle him, an umbrella, purse, keys, etc. in my arms as we vacated the car and rushed inside. As we were clinging to each other in our hurry to get in out of the storm, I heard Eliot next to me, whispering, "We're safe. We're safe. We're under the umbrella. We're safe." Almost instantly, his words hit me with a sweet profoundness. It was one of those moments where I felt the weight of my responsibility as a mother. Sometimes I forget what a big role I play in keeping these little ones safe and protected. It's a little overwhelming if I stop and think about it.

But to balance out the heavy responsibility I feel as a mother, the other feeling that struck me from Eliot's sweet self assurance, was that we are in fact safe, that we have protection and safety from the storms of life. I felt a peace and calm in knowing that as much as it's so daunting to raise children in the current climate of our very confused and, well, evil, world, we are safe under our "umbrella" of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Recently I have felt grateful specifically for the protective power of the priesthood. As I was singing to Eliot before a nap this past week, I got to the second verse of "Love is Spoken Here," and found myself getting choked up as I squeaked out, "Mine is a home where every hour is blessed by the strength of priesthood power." I do feel that power in my home, and I am so grateful for its protection. I'm so thankful for Grant for worthily holding and using that priesthood. I'm grateful for his dear father, whom I love and adore, for teaching Grant to use that power with such gentle, quiet strength. I take great comfort in knowing that our little Eliot and Zachary will be able to follow in their father and grandfather's footsteps and bless their own homes with the priesthood.

I don't think I will soon forget, but wanted to record it to make certain I don't, the image of my little boy holding tight to me as I struggled under an umbrella to guide him through a literal storm, most especially because I can't forget his innocent voice whispering near my ear, "We're safe, we're safe." My heart overflows with gratitude for the many blessings of the gospel -- for the priesthood, temples, covenants, eternal families, a living prophet and scriptures to guide us, personal revelation -- all of which allow me to cling to my family amidst the troubled storms of mortality and whisper with reassurance, "We're safe, we're safe."