Experience breeds diversity.

So, last week I was feeling a bit smug.

Recently we've endured quite a few rounds of changes in our little branch, and have all been feeling the burden of keeping all the church organizations running smoothly so that everyone has opportunities to live and grow in the Gospel. See, it's different serving in a small town branch, and I think last week I was feeling like we deserved a big pat on the back for it.

Currently, the first counselor in our Elder's Quorum presidency is also our young men's president. His wife is the primary president. They have four kids. The woman that plays the organ in sacrament meeting is also the Branch Music Coordinator, the Stake Music Chairperson and the piano player in primary. I am currently the young women's president, and the home study seminary teacher. My husband serves in the branch presidency. I have one counselor, and no advisors. My counselor also serves as the Seminary representative for the Western part of the Stake. The list could go on and on. The point is that we all wear lots of different hats. When you are released from one calling, most frequently you are directly called into another of equal or greater magnitude than the last. Families are stretched and juggled. Programs are modified to fit smaller numbers and less workers. Sometimes, it's really hard.

But, it is always lovely and wonderful and absolutely enriching. My children are taught the Gospel just as those children who have a full rank of teachers, leaders, and advisors to run their Gospel programs. We are small, but we are mighty. I love it here, most passionately, and would not trade any of the difficult challenges that accompany living here, in this part of the Lord's vineyard, for easier callings, or better functioning organizations, for closer temples, or shorter visiting teaching routes. This is home. It may be hard, but it is always worth it. The blessings of service far outweigh the burden of sacrifice.

And so, I was smug. I was proud of myself for a willingness to give and serve so diligently, even when it isn't easy.

And then, because God knew I needed a husband that would keep me from being prideful and completely full of myself, Josh came in and reminded me of what challenges members of the church must face that live even farther removed than I do. What must it feel like to live in an area of the world so remote that an entire lifetime of savings is used to journey to the temple one time? What must it be like for international members to read church history, or the Doctrine and Covenants and not recognize state or city names, not relate to the culture and history of 19th century America that so heavily influenced the process of the restoration? What must it be like to have such faith, when opposition or difficulty surround you on all sides? My challenges and sacrifice are but a drop in the bucket compared to what many before me, and many still today, all over the world, endure for the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I cannot pretend to understand all that some so willingly give up.

All I can hope, as I labor in my tiny corner of Zion, is that in some small way, I am gaining experience and strength that will prepare me for whatever the Lord may require, and that my children will understand that blessings will come from diligence and fortitude and a willingness to stand up for what you believe in, even if it means standing alone.

Most importantly, I will strive to remember that while my service in the Gospel is different than that of those living in Utah, or Okinawa, Tonga, Australia, or central Cleveland, it is no more or less valuable, and the Lord is aware, on all accounts, the individual efforts that each of us make, and the trials and challenges that we may endure.

We just need to bloom where we are planted, and allow others to do the same.

And then, we can delight in the richness of variety.