I knelt in sincere prayer, kneeling, speaking out loud, in private, without distraction, even in a psych unit of a hospital where my three roommates were not around me. A singular moment. I just knew this prayer had to be out loud.
"I am so thankful that I know that my Savior has been here before. That I am not alone. That He has felt this, perfectly. Thy son."
It is not possible to put into words, so I feel frustrated.
I have a son.
My Father gave His son to feel this.
But it's okay.
The feelings I was having were feelings of not being able to fathom giving my son to feel pain for others.
Pondering that.
Not fathoming that.
And then…the shift.
I don't want, anymore, that my Savior had to feel this. It's okay, Heavenly Father. It's okay if I had to feel this alone. It's okay if I am the only one that knows this perfectly. It's okay. I don't want that Christ had to feel this.
It was already done. And it would be done regardless of any spiritual progress I would one day make. And it's not that I was in the lowest of any low of anyone else on earth, it's just that of course, with our own backgrounds, experiences, gifts, weaknesses, etc., no one understands perfectly but Him.
But the shift. It was a shift for me. I hadn't ever before, or at least not long enough to remember, felt so much love and willingness towards my Heavenly Father, and love for my Savior, that it was okay. It was okay if He didn't feel this. It was okay if I was to be the only one that felt this exactly. I love Him too much. Please don't make Him feel my things too.
Maybe we all get to this feeling a few times in our lives, where we are sincerely trying so hard to apply the atonement, be enabled, be cleansed, that we understand just a minute bit more about the atonement. And we cry out, "it's okay", "I don't need this too", "I don't want that He had to feel my sins. I love Him and Thee too much."
I felt it. Just one tiny drop of it.
And it felt like a shift. A shift in my way of feeling about the atonement.
