A New Kind of Blessing

My mom used to lead the "Missionary Board" members in singing "Showers of , Blessing."  There shall be showers of blessing. This is the promise of love.  There shall be seasons refreshing, sent from the Savior above."  These "mature" women---grandmothers all---typically opened their meetings with this declaration.  I was young then, back in the day, but for the life of me, I couldn't imagine why they sang with such vigor.  In sun-baked summers and wind-whipped winters, these good ladies of the Church declared the promise.

I grew up in an era when children were to be seen, not heard, which was just as well because I couldn't figure out a way to ask what "showers" they were singing about without sounding impudent.  We either got rain, hard driving rain, or humid-hot summers.  I couldn't imagine what constituted a shower. Of blessings? What were they? Did they come, like birthdays? Or were they like the surprise parties my cousin's wife used to throw? What did one have to do to be caught in a shower of blessing? It all sounded "pie in the sky" to me, a term I'd been introduced to in one of my small library of books. 

As a young child, I had dreams, for sure, but they never took concrete form.  In fact, maybe all I did was to daydream--- a life where a handsome prince rescued a damsel in distress (me) from a dreary, weary life.   Since Mother's Missionary group sang with such assurance and hope, I wanted to embrace their fervor.  I've always loved songs, especially those that uplifted me from what I assumed were my unreasonable surroundings.  I watched those women as they met life's adversities with aplomb.  I never saw their situations change (my Mother's didn't, from all I could see), as a result of their relentless singing, but it never seemed to bother them or weaken their resolve. 

What did they have that eluded me? Hope. That's what it had to have been. They hoped for a better today and a  brighter tomorrow.  Their lives were buoyed when their school-age kids excelled, even if it was only in physical education.  They served as their children's and grandchildren's cheerleaders, pushing them toward all kinds of finishing lines.  High school graduation.  Admission to college. Graduation from college.  A good job. Belief in "Somebody bigger than you and I."  Their hope was palpable, even in the face of the gravest trauma or setback.  

They knew, as they sang, that "The Lord will make a way somehow, when beneath the cross I bow.  He will take away each sorrow, Let Him have your burdens now.  When the load bears down so heavy, the weight is shown upon my brow.  There's a sweet relief in knowing, O the Lord will make a way somehow." Sadly, that hope rarely happened until they transitioned to a better world they believed was promised and that they had earned.  

Their legacy, invaluable even in present circumstances, was hope.  Hope. That's probably enough!