“I need to bare my testimony”
For the past several months we’ve been trying to teach Bridget what a testimony is. I’m not convinced that she has any real concept of what it actually means to have a testimony, but she’s caught on to the fact that on certain Sunday’s people take turns going up to the front of the chapel to share their testimonies.
The first month we emphasized testimonies, we didn’t bring any toys, books, or snacks to church. We figured that the speaker would change often enough that it would keep her interest. We were mostly right. It took a little encouragement from us to get her to pay attention to the things that were being said – it helped that she knew quite a few of the people that were getting up. She sometimes noticed some of the things they said, and always seemed to notice those that cried during their testimonies, often she asked me why they were sad. Near the end of the meeting we mentioned to her that anyone that want to care bare their testimony, “Mommy can bare her testimony, or Daddy can. Even Bridget can go up there and bare her testimony.” She seemed dumbfounded that she could. Her only response was, “I can?” So that Sunday, with a little assistance, she shared her testimony for the first time.
For the couple of months that followed we would remind her during testimony meeting that anyone can bare their testimony, even her. Each time she wanted to, and did.
The last couple of testimony meetings however, we haven’t said anything to her – except to help her understand that people were indeed baring testimony that day.
Then, last Sunday….
She didn’t seem to be paying too much attention to the testimonies at first. But then toward the very end of the meeting one brother in our ward mentioned the word “camping” in his testimony – the word seemed to immediately get her attention. He sat down and a sister when up to share her testimony. Within a few seconds of this sister standing up Bridget was insisting that she needed to bare her testimony. The problem was that it was already almost 10 minutes after the hour. I tried to explain that she wouldn’t have time, but maybe next time. But she kept insisting that she NEEDED to bare her testimony – she also insisted that I not help her; she wanted me to stay sitting on the bench in the congregation while she went up. I finally asked her what she was going to say if I let her go up there. Her response:
I will say “I’m gonna bare my testimony and Jesus Christ Amen”
After making her repeat this to me several times and trying to convince her to say other things in her testimony as well, I finally consented to let her go up to the stand and try it herself, though I was mentally preparing myself to have to intervene and assist her.
When the sister that was speaking finished, I sent her up. She just started to climb onto the stage when the 2nd counselor stood up to close the meeting. She’s so short that no one saw her. So she stepped back down and came back to join me in the congregation. She had the saddest look on her face, and just kept telling me that she didn’t get to bare her testimony. I reminded her that she’d have another chance at the next testimony meeting, but that wasn’t enough for her.
Instead, after the meeting had concluded we walked to the front of the chapel and I held her up to the [dead] microphone so she could bare her testimony. Funny thing is that she noticed it was off and told me it wasn’t working, but I was successful at convincing her that everyone could still hear her. So, there we stood as ward members were getting up and leaving the chapel… but at least she got to bare her testimony. Its the thought that counts, right?!
Go tell Jesus not to let us get any mosquito bites
Last night as we knelt to say our evening prayer Bridget was scratching a mosquito bite on her leg. I remembered that she seemed to be waking up with a new one each morning for the last several days. So, as it was my turn to say the prayer I quickly added a line asking that the mosquito’s would leave us alone as we slept. The prayer concluded and as I was tucking her in bed I reminded her that the mosquito’s would leave her alone because we asked Heavenly Father to keep them away.
She quickly informed me that we didn’t ask him. The conversation went something like this:
T: Remember, we asked Heavenly Father to not let the mosquito’s bite you, so they’ll leave you alone tonight.
B: We didn’t ask him.
T: Yes we did. When we prayed we asked him.
B: No. Just go and ask him.
T: Go where? Do you want me to say another prayer?
B: No. Just GO.
T: Go where? Where do you want me to go to ask him?
…At this point I was wondering if I would have to explain that there are no airplanes that take us to heaven. That its not a place from which we just come and go at will. But, I didn’t have to, she was pointing to her dresser.
B: Go over there (pointing to a 5×7″ picture of Jesus sitting on her dresser)
T: Oh. (getting the picture) Why don’t you ask him?
B: (talking to Jesus’ picture) Jesus, please don’t let the mosquito’s bite us.
T: Ok. Now tell him goodnight.
B: Goodnight. (kisses the picture)
I was a little bit confused that she didn’t seem to completely understand that when we pray we are indeed talking to Heavenly Father. Though I found it precious that she would have the faith to speak to a tangible representation of Jesus and know what the thing that she asked for would be granted her. And that she would speak to that picture as she would any other person in the room.
It made me smile. I sure do have a lot I can learn from this child of mine.
