So proud

My little brother is leaving next week to serve an LDS mission in Everett, Washington. I'm a little bit jealous that he's going to be in an incredibly beautiful place for two years, but mostly I am realizing how much I am going to miss him and his (sometimes crushing) hugs. I'm incredibly proud of Ethan, especially for his devotion to God and for putting that devotion into action. I know he's going to make an awesome missionary.

On Sunday, Ethan gave his farewell talk in my parents' ward and we had a ton of family come to support him. (I was reminded me that when we start having kids and baby blessings, Tim and I are going to single-handedly fill the entire chapel with our family members. The ward will just have to fill in the overflow or something.) Ethan's talk was really good. Like, really good. Like, I took notes. Yeah, he's going to rock a mission.

One of the things that Ethan said is that prayer is never wasted. Even if we pray and don't see the results we asked for, that prayer was needed for something and affected some kind of change, even if it was only an inward one. I think one of the reasons this struck me is that this is something I have struggled to understand.

For several years, I have worked at not giving up when my prayers don't seem to be answered. Illnesses have not disappeared, family members have not been protected, miracles don't always appear, and sometimes it's a struggle to believe that they ever will. But looking back on the last few years, I realize that if nothing else, my prayers have made me more compassionate and humble. Learning to pray for these kinds of things fosters something good within us, even if the outward results are not what we prayed for.

In addition to Ethan's lovely talk, we provided the musical number as a family. Tim and I sang, Rachel (who got back from her honeymoon the night before) played the viola, Ethan and my cousin Mike played the cello, and my dad played the piano. It didn't go perfectly, but I think it went well. The song we played/sang is a favorite of mine (I actually arranged the viola and cello parts) called "Savior, Redeemer of my Soul."

This song became important to me around the time my dad was diagnosed with cancer almost four years ago. Rachel and I played it the night before he went into surgery, and then again that weekend for my ward's Easter program. I sang it while I was in England with a more beautiful voice than I ever had before. And I have often found in this song the words to express my testimony:

Savior, Redeemer of my soul
Whose mighty hand hath made me whole,
Whose wondrous power hath raised me up
And filled with sweet my bitter cup.

I know that it is not by my power that I am and have been raised up out of grief, disappointment, fear, and pain. And I know that we can be whole even when illness persists and loved ones pass away and we feel our prayers are not answered. It's a beautiful song expressing a redeeming idea and I was so happy that we got to share it.

And all this inspiration and testimony because my brother is going on a mission. So good. So proud.