I met my husband during those years. He was not a member of the church, and that was fine with me. One less person trying to get me to go back, I thought.
But things change. Heavenly Father did not forget about me. He sent his angels to administer to me, and let me know He still loved me. They came in the form of friends, family, ward members, and even complete strangers. But they did come. And I finally got the message.
Three years after I got married, I decided to go back to church. My husband was supportive, and did not hold me back. At first, it was really hard to go alone. I felt like an outsider. I felt like everyone was watching me. But I knew that I was where I was supposed to be.
I hit the ground running, and didn’t look back. I received callings, and did my best to magnify them. I developed friendships with the women in the ward. I went through the temple. My family and friends were there to support me, but I still felt alone. I wanted my husband with me. I wanted us to be doing it together. How could I have known, when I married him that I would be faced with this desire?
When I had been married for six years, I asked my husband to learn more about my church, and my beliefs. I volunteered to feed the missionaries when the sign-up came around in Relief Society. That night, after dinner, they left a short message, and then asked if they could return another time. He agreed.
My heart leaped. I thought my wait was finally over. I had felt the Spirit in our home while the missionaries spoke, and I was sure he had too. After a few more visits by the missionaries, he made no progress. He acknowledged that he had felt good about what they were teaching, but he wasn’t ready for the next step. He told them he was not ready to be baptized. My heart sank.
He had begun coming with me to Sacrament Meeting while he was taking the missionary discussions, and continued to do so. He didn’t come every week, but still, I was encouraged by his attendance. Every time a speaker would say something that I thought would touch him, and convince him of the truthfulness of the gospel, I was left disappointed.
That first meeting with the missionaries was four years ago. I’ve been on a roller coaster of emotion during that time. Sometimes I feel at peace, and I am able to put my trust in Heavenly Father’s plan. But sometimes I just want to tear my hair out, stomp my feet, and scream, then cry and beg that he will make the decision to be baptized.
I don’t want him to just do it to make me happy. I want it to be something that he does for himself. But the waiting is hard.
A few weeks ago, a mutual friend of ours talked to him about getting baptized. He told me that my husband acknowledged that he would get baptized, someday. Just not yet. He needed more time.
The friend was encouraged by his answer. He saw it as a good sign. I was torn. Forty percent of me was so excited to know that someday he will be baptized, and that our family will be sealed in the temple. But the other sixty percent of me was frustrated, and even a little angry.
That sixty percent of me was thinking, “If you know it’s true, then why wait? Why continue to put me through this? Why push back the day that our family will be able to go to the temple?”
I know that I am being selfish. I know that I should be one-hundred percent happy with his admitting that he will be baptized someday. But it’s so much easier to know how I should feel, than it is to actually feel that way.
Someday, he will decide it’s time. Someday, he’ll take me to the temple, along with our children, and we will be sealed together for eternity. Someday, I will look back on this part of my life and not remember it being this hard. Someday… Until then, I just try to let my faith carry me.
guest post by Kim of Sometimes Hard, But Oh-So Worth It