And Still, I Stay
By Heather Sheffer
@pressingforward.holdingfast
“I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”
These were my thoughts as I watched my youngest sister bury her husband. Their oldest children, twins, were 7. A boy, the spitting image of his dad was next at 4 years old. The baby of the family was barely over 1 year old. She was cradled in my husband’s arms as we watched the graveside service on that hot August day in southern Idaho. It was 2018. Three years previous to this my family had gathered to bury both our dad and my 12 yr old nephew after a simple hike in the Arizona desert turned tragic. And now this. Another tragic and unexpected loss. How much more could we bear?
With financial issues, severe depression, an unexpected pregnancy that brought both prenatal and postpartum anxiety and depression, I was hanging by threads. And now another extremely difficult blow came that I was ill-equipped to handle.
Why? Why did God keep taking my family? Nobody had been sick. Nobody had a chance to make peace or to say goodbye. Why? Where was God’s love in this?
A year passed. It was 2019 and I was staring my 40th birthday in the face. My faith was clinging in tatters and bare threads. Me, the “strong one” through high school and college. I was a returned missionary, married to a returned missionary for time and all eternity in the Mesa, Arizona temple. I couldn’t believe it, but here we were, seriously considering walking away from it all.
And yet…we stayed.
I remember my desperate prayer. I was going to meet some friends for lunch. I could feel myself spiraling into another confused and depressed state. Turning 40 does something to your brain. You naturally question things you had once believed were infallible. For me, it was a time of unmooring and figuring my life out all over again.
I found myself asking, “Where is my place in the world? What do I have to offer?” After spending 15 years raising boys and not thinking of myself at all, it was smacking me in the face. I felt lost, weary, and overwhelmed by the future before me. Mostly? I felt alone. The God I had once implicitly trusted seemed far away and muted. Was He still there? Would He answer me? After all, the tragic accidents I had experienced didn’t end with a miraculous rescue. No, my family’s accidents would never be the topic of a General Conference talk about prayers being answered. Instead, we had to navigate the waters of deep grief and unanswered questions.
My prayer that day was simple. I could clearly see two paths in front of me. One would take me away from all I had held dear my entire life; away from the God I was raised to love and pray to, and away from the faith I had shared so freely as a missionary. From my viewpoint, this path looked easier. It wasn’t uphill. It didn’t require so much of me to navigate the turns and twists. In fact, from where I was standing, this path looked much more appealing in many ways. Sure, I’d have to give up some things, but at this point I wasn’t sure I even wanted them anymore. So what would I really be giving up besides heartache?
In contrast, the second path looked challenging. It was definitely an uphill climb. This path would require a greater struggle than I had put in for a long time. I’d have to earn every step forward with my blood, sweat, and tears. It would require all of my faith, plus more than I could muster. But the reward? Eternal life with my family.
“Help me,” I prayed silently while driving. “If you’re there, help me to not lose what little faith I have. Help me to see the path. Help me to come home to thee.” A simple prayer from a struggling daughter to her Heavenly Father. But it was enough.
The days and years since that prayer have not been easy. In fact, it’s been a bigger struggle than I thought I had the strength to overcome. These highs and lows have been accompanied by desperate pleas on my knees. I’ve spent countless hours searching and devouring scriptures, books, counsel from prophets, and seeking advice from trusted friends. I found myself being drawn to those who had gone down this path before and had tasted the fruits of the Spirit. These men and women (both living and in heaven) shared their light with me. Their words and testimonies have lit my path. One small step at a time I’m making my way back home.
And so I choose to stay. I stay all in the Gospel of Jesus Christ until He returns in His glory. I will stand firm in the faith.
Because this much I know. God hears and answers prayer. Even when heaven is silent and far away. Even when the world is dark and lonely. Even when all feels lost. Even then. All is not lost. And I will stand firm in the faith.
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