With Easter weekend upon us, I have been reflecting on a simple yet powerful experience I had last year that served to remind me of the truly personal and intimate love God has for each of his children.

I was sitting in the front passenger seat of our gray Dodge Caravan.  It was the Friday night of Easter weekend and I don’t remember where we had been, but I do remember making a mental checklist as we drove home of all the unfinished “to-do’s” I had yet to tackle.  There were groceries to buy, the house to clean, food to prepare, other festive parental duties to execute – and I was starting to feel a little stressed. 

Just at that moment my phone rang.  It was my friend Amelia asking if I would be willing to accompany their family on the piano for a song that they were singing on Easter Sunday (two days away).  Although I have taught piano lessons for many years and consider primary pianist as one of the best callings in the church – I am a terrible sight reader and require significant practice before I feel confident enough to play in public!  I was already participating in two other musical numbers on Sunday and I wasn’t sure how much time I would have to practice.  I nervously asked what song they were singing.

“Gethsemane” she replied.

I sighed with relief – it was a familiar song and even though I hadn’t seen the music yet, she reassured me that it wasn’t too difficult.  I agreed and we met at the church the next day to practice together. 

The initial plan was for all her children to sing while Amelia played a violin descant.  However, the younger boys were restless and nervous, so in the end, Amelia’s daughter Eva decided she was brave enough to sing a solo.  We practiced with the piano and violin accompaniment and I was amazed at how lovely it sounded with such little time to prepare.   

The next morning after all the eggs had been found and the baskets filled, our family attended church on Easter Sunday.  I noted where “Gethsemane” was in the program and as the time for performance approached, I said a silent prayer.  I always get so nervous playing in church and asked Heavenly Father to help calm my nerves, then extended that plea on behalf of Eva and Amelia as well. 

We all walked to the front of the chapel.  I sat down at the large grand piano and began to play. 

Eva started to sing,

“Jesus climbed the hill to the garden still. His steps were heavy and slow. Love and a prayer took Him there, To the place only He could go. Gethsemane.  Jesus loves me, So He went willingly to Gethsemane.”

I played on, but suddenly from the pulpit where Eva stood, there was silence.  Overcome with fear, she stood frozen and panicked – unable to utter a single note.  It was only for a few moments, and then something beautiful happened.  Amelia lifted her chin from it’s rest and gently laid down her violin and bow.  She lovingly walked to where her frightened daughter stood and with the voice of an angel, started to sing. 

“The hardest thing that ever was done, The greatest pain that ever was known, The biggest battle that ever was won – This was done by Jesus! The fight was won by Jesus!

Gethsemane. Jesus loves me, So He gave His gift to me in Gethsemane.”

I struggled to read the notes through the tears welling in my eyes. 

This was Easter

Nothing else mattered – not visits from the Easter bunny or matching pastel dresses, not even carefully executed family home evening lessons – this was Easter. 

In that indelible moment when Amelia did for Eva what Eva could not do for herself, I felt the power and reality of the Savior’s sacrifice for me personally as he time and time again helps me to finish a song I cannot sing on my own.  His grace is sufficient and I truly can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me!

As the final chord rang through the chapel, I returned to the congregation to sit with my family.  I honestly don’t remember much else from the service that day as my mind replayed that scene over and over again.  A simple act of motherly love that somehow on that day with that song meant so much more. 

I have not forgotten this experience, and now, a year later – I reflect on the lasting impact it has had on me.  I feel so often like some alternate version of sweet little Eva.  I too am just a child who feels scared, overwhelmed, weak or embarrassed – unable to sing the notes (even ones I have practiced) in the face of opposition and fear. 

The number of times my Savior has set down his own instrument to rescue me are innumerable and each time he joins my song – I can do so much more with him by my side. 

He carries the notes I drop. 

He lifts my melodies to new heights.

He sings the song of redeeming love, and it is perfect!

On the other hand, I also consider how many times Christ walks over to stand next to me at the pulpit and I pridefully shew him away, convinced that I don’t need any help.  How many times do I change the music to something simpler, certain that I know better.  How many times do I avoid the song altogether, assuring myself that I’m too tired and someone else can sing today.

It sometimes takes me standing in fear, not sure of what note comes next for me to turn to him for his help, guidance and love – remembering that I am a beloved daughter of Heavenly Parents with a divine nature and eternal destiny.

And so, as this Easter weekend approaches and the same to-do list is running through my mind, I am trying to stay focused on the Savior.  Turning to him for the help I need.  Remembering those notes we have practiced together before.  And in the moments I feel frozen with overwhelm and doubt, I remember dear little Eva and the beautiful words she sang with her Mother one year ago.   

“Gethsemane. Jesus loves me, So He gives His gift to me from Gethsemane.”