Two little girls sang in church today. They had beautiful, sweet voices that testified of the Savior and His love for each of us as he suffered in Gethsemane.
It is a song I have loved since I first heard it a couple years ago, and I was touched by the words and their voices.
But what touched me the most, was watching the mother of one of the girls as she sat in the congregation.
Jen sat five rows back from the front, at the end of the row. She was not in a position where the girls would notice her, nor was she where she could help if they forgot the song. Yet there she sat, with a copy of the words and music in her hands, head bowed, and mouthing the words along with them--seemingly willing them along. Jen has nine children, yet at that moment she seemed oblivious to the other eight as she concentrated, singing the words along with her daughter.
The little girls did not see her, but I did. And as I watched her there, the script in her hand, and singing every word with them, it touched me deeply.
I first thought of my own daughters, far away from home. I may not be in a position to help if they stumble or forget what they should do, and they cannot see me, but my thoughts and prayers are always with them. I suffer with them through their hurt feelings and rejoice in their successes.
And then my mind went to heaven, and those who live beyond the veil. I wondered how many mothers, unseen, watch down on children, and mouth the words along with them as they attempt to sing the song of life?
Suddenly I could feel the presence and power of others, watching us, willing us along, holding the "script" in their hands, encouraging us to say and do what we need to do, praying we will remember the words we were taught and always sing in harmony with the Savior.
They are our own unseen cheering section.
It was a nice thought. And one that brought . . . joy to my journey.