Lessons from an old screen door

My grandparents lived in an old bungalow home that they expanded by enclosing the front porch and creating a larger living room. The back door was at the bottom of a few stairs on the back porch. This door had an old wooden screen on it with a long spring that kept it closed. This was long before the days of hydraulic door closers, so if you weren't careful, the door would slam shut behind you.

When I stayed at their home, I would be excited to run outside after breakfast and explore the yard and neighborhood. Every time I ran out that door, it would slam shut. This was invariably followed by the booming voice of my grandfather saying "Don't slam the !#$@ door!". Every time that happened, I would vow that the next time I would be more careful. I would lie in bed at night and promise myself that I would do better the next day, but every day I would run out that door, usually remembering my promise just a split second before the door crashed shut. I never did learn to make sure that the door closed quietly no matter how hard I tried. The few times I did remember, my little brother would follow behind and I still earned the reprimand from my grandfather.

Today, I was released from my calling serving in the bishopric of our ward. I told the stake president that my time in this calling was a lot like my experience with that door. I never felt like I had mastered the ability to serve the way I felt like I had promised the Lord I would. I have loved serving our ward in this capacity. I have loved serving with two amazing men. There is something about counseling with them and being able to receive revelation together that forges a bond of love between us. I will miss the love and trust that I have felt from our ward members during the last 5 -1/2 years. I only hope that the Lord will forgive me for never learning how to keep that door from slamming, and will judge me instead on the intentions of my heart.