The Powerful Widow

Before July this year, when I heard the word "widow", it brought to mind something like this - 



The Granny Babushka

When I was younger, as far as I was concerned, widow's were elderly women that liked to make homemade jam from their fruit trees, show me pictures of their grown children and late husbands, and pay my brothers five dollars to mow their lawns. To me, they were generally reserved, quiet, kind women who'd lived through something awful... loss - a big word I'm only now beginning to comprehend. Loss.

That's what I thought - before this year.

But this year, I learned something about widows. Yes, some are elderly, some make jam, some show me pictures of their children and husbands - but...

Widows can be young or old.

Widows can be strong in the face of great pain.

Widows can be movers and shakers.

Widows are powerful.

In the Bible, in the book of Mark, it reads:

“And Jesus sat over against the treasury, and beheld how the people cast money into the treasury: and many that were rich cast in much. “And there came a certain poor widow, and she threw in two mites, which make a farthing. And he called unto him his disciples, and saith unto them, Verily I say unto you, That this poor widow hath cast more in, than all they which have cast into the treasury: For all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all that she had,
even all her living.”

During his earthly ministry, the Savior Jesus Christ often used stories to teach gospel truths. This story is no exception, but this time, when I read it, I couldn't help but wonder about the widow in the story. The scriptures say she was poor, but there's no mention of her age. We have no way of knowing how she came to be a widow. We can't know if she had children to care for, or bills to pay. We don't know what pieces she had to pick up after her husband's death. She may have been struggling, still stricken with grief and shock, when she cast in her two mites. All we know, is that she was in need - and still, she gave everything, even all her living - to the Lord.

Now that, is a powerful widow.

When I was little, I loved to play with my cousin Sharee at her house in Idaho on Sheep Trail Road. One day, Sharee and I were playing outside in the yard and a massive hoard of sheep started down the road in one of the craziest, dustiest, most chaotic sheep drives I've ever seen. The sheep ascended upon us like a massive, fluffy, stinky, thundercloud. I was terrified. It seemed like there were thousands of them. They were everywhere - on the road, in the driveway, and on the front lawn.

My Aunt Julie



Oh no. 

Not the front lawn.

Because let me tell you - this wasn't just any front lawn.

This front lawn was groomed. It was mowed. It was weed free. It was beautifully green. It was the result of many hours of sweat and toil in the hot sun.

And the sheep were ruining it.

They were stamping it into a sad mess of divots, mud, and broken dreams.

But not for long.

The minute one hoof set foot on that grass, my Aunt Julie was out on the lawn with a tennis racket, swatting and herding those sheep off her lawn and back to where they belonged.

I'll never forget the sight. 

There she stood - my aunt. Courageous, bold, and heroic in the face of the multitude.

Powerful.

My nine-year-old self certainly was impressed.

Twenty-three years later, this year - I saw my Aunt face another multitude - when she stood in the receiving line at her husband's viewing. Nearly two thousand people came to pay their respects to my Uncle - a bishop, a brother, a son, a friend, and a great man. Two thousand - yes, you read that right. My Aunt stood for over six hours, hugging, shaking hands, and sharing memories and grief with every single person in attendance. Young, raw, and suffering, but every bit the courageous, bold and heroic woman she's always been.

Powerful.



     My Aunt and her children the day of my Uncle's funeral

In my church calling as Relief Society President, I come in contact with many widows. We have more than a dozen in our congregation. They are incredible, faithful women.

I know one who bears an unshakeable testimony of eternal families nearly every Sunday.

I know one, who at age 75, weighing less than 100 lbs - cared for her dying husband until his last days - lifting him, carrying him, watching over him until her arms shook and her back ached - holding his hand while he suffered in agony - kissing him while he passed slowly from this life - sobbing with sorrow and relief when it was finally over.
I know one who tried, with everything she had, to hold it together and sing songs with the Primary children the week her late husband's favorite dog died. 

I know one who's come to church alone, with three children in tow, and cried private tears while they played at her feet.

I know a military widow who serves in the Scouts because she wants to teach others the real value of freedom - and the real price.

I know one who buried her parents, every sibling, and her husband in less than five years.

They are all different, but one thing is the same.

They are powerful.

You see, what makes the widow powerful, is that she understands love and loss in equal measure. She's held her companion's hand in life, and in death. She's felt the love of heaven while walking through hell. She's lived through tremendous joy and tremendous pain. She knows that faith is stronger than fear. She knows that some things transcend our understanding. She knows that love, and family are eternal. She knows that our time on earth is precious. She doesn't fuss over a late phone bill or a burnt dinner, because she knows what a real struggle looks like - and what it feels like. She knows what matters. She has taken her precious two mites - her living - her love and her life - her husband - her hope and faith - her trials and fears - her everything

and turned it over to the Lord.

She, in her want, gave all that she had.

So now, when I think of a widow, I think of this:

My Aunt Julie

 My courageous Aunt and the many other incredible women I know whose husbands' have gone before them. My family. My friends.
The powerful widow.

I love you Aunt Julie!