I went to church today for the first time since our church leaders told us church in our meetinghouses would be canceled until further notice. Before leaving the house, I looked in the mirror to make sure I didn’t have lipstick on my teeth. Then I laughed, knowing that I had to wear a mask.
Our ward has been meeting on a very limited basis for the past several weeks, but I hadn’t yet attended. To be honest, I wasn’t planning to attend this Sunday either. I planned to read my scriptures, pray, and take it easy.
And then I got a call from our music coordinator asking me to lead the music in Sacrament Meeting today because we would finally be allowed to sing. I was thrilled. We had only been in this ward for a few months before the shutdown, so I hadn’t had a chance to do much. I have felt out of touch with ward members because I hadn’t had a chance to develop friendships, and I was getting used to staying home.
Music kept me active in the church while I was growing up with parents who were inactive. When I graduated from Primary at age twelve, I was called to be the Junior Primary pianist. A few years later, I was called to lead the music in Junior Sunday School. I put together our ward’s first Mutual choir, and was privileged to lead the ward choir at age sixteen. I represented our ward in Stake Music Festivals and sang and acted in the roadshows. I sang solos and played special piano musical numbers in church. I conducted the Junior Sunday School music for two years up until a few months after I graduated from high school. Shortly thereafter, I stopped going to church and remained mostly inactive for the next ten years.
When I was pregnant with my second son, the second counselor in our ward bishopric called to ask me if I would accept the calling to play the organ in church once a month. I accepted the call and never missed my Sunday until the day after my husband was killed leaving me with a three-year-old son and a year-old baby boy. I went back the following Sunday and have remained active in the church since.
I was released from my organist calling shortly before I married my second husband a couple of years later. I have enjoyed numerous callings to work in the music programs of the church over the years, playing the organ, leading the music in church, directing choirs, and presenting special musical numbers.
It felt so right and so comfortable standing in front of the congregation leading the opening hymn this morning. There weren’t many voices, but they sang from their hearts.
During the administration of the sacrament, I looked, from where I sat on the stand, over the sparse congregation sitting on every other bench and distanced from one another. The sight of so many empty benches and so many empty seats made me sad. And then, almost as quickly as I felt that sadness, a thought came to my heart.
“There are no empty benches. There are no empty seats.”
I looked again and wondered who was on those benches and in those seats that my eyes couldn’t see. I felt calm and warm and safe and loved.
It wasn’t until my husband and I arrived home that it dawned on me that being called to participate in music positions, whether as an actual calling or to substitute, has always been Heavenly Father’s way of calling me back, of showing He knows me and loves me. Today’s gift of leading the congregation in songs of praise to Him was no different. He knew my intention was to stay home for yet another week rather than go to church, and He gently invited me to come back.
As I write, I am filled to overflowing with gratitude for His love. I am humbled to know He understands me. I am thankful that my seat wasn’t empty today.