I watched my almost-2-year-old nephew a few days ago, and instead of staying home where it was safe, I decided to be “brave” (the word every stranger in public uses to describe me) and take him, my son Benson (two months younger) and my 6-year-old to the library for a Wiggle Worms class.
After 20 minutes of throwing scarves and blowing bubbles, we decided to calmly and quietly walk the aisles looking for books like normal people.
But we aren’t normal.
So, loudly and disruptively these boys ran down the aisles, laughing and playing hide-and-seek while I tried to quietly call out their names.
After about 10 minutes of this, the two boys decided they were tired of running from me, and both wanted to be held. They each grabbed hold of my shirt and began to pull, trying to out-climb the other, screaming, “Hold you!” While I tried to stay modest, refereeing face palms and eye pokes.
Suddenly my 6-year-old asked if we could go get doughnuts.
Fun fact: The word “doughnut” does the same thing for me that the sight of a squirrel does for my dog. We see it, we must have it. Drop everything and run. So I abandoned my book search and we left to the historic Lehi Bakery, which has some of the best doughnuts in Utah County. My waistline and I can say that with confidence.
We hurried in through the heavy door, the tinkling bell welcoming us to baked heaven, and we all took a deep breath of warm, sweet goodness. The youngest two ran up to the front and pushed their tiny faces against the glass, their eyes growing wide at the assortment of treats. My 6-year-old came up behind them and put his arms around them, everyone feeling the love that only a massive amount of sugary dough can provide.
I reached for my purse to grab my phone to take a picture, when I realized I had left my purse — and car keys, and phone — in the car. I ran back outside and opened my door at the exact moment a huge gust of wind kicked up, and it ripped the door right from my hand, sending it crashing into a pole. Hard. Like, that’s-going-to-leave-a-dent-don’t-tell-your-husband-just-show-up-with-a-doughnut-tonight hard.
Curse in head and purse in hand, I hurried inside just in time for the fighting to start back up.
Needless to say, I didn’t get a picture.
I did, however, leave a lasting impression on the customers waiting behind me, an older couple who were trying not to notice how frazzled I seemed.
I picked up the boys, grabbed my purse and keys, and was trying to figure out a way to balance the doughnut boxes on my head when the older woman asked, “Can I help you?”
She grabbed the boxes and followed me out to the car, while I thanked her profusely, dodging angry baby fists.
We drove home while I replayed the craziness of the morning in my mind, wondering if now would be a good time to shove the entire buttermilk bar in my face. I felt like crying. Am I just not good at being a mother? Do other people know how to do outings better than me? It seems every time I leave the house, I come home with a column to write.
It was then a talk given in church came to mind.
The speaker was telling the story of the woman in the New Testament who had an “issue of blood.”
She believed that if she saw the Savior and could “but touch his garment, I shall be whole.”
As the Savior walked by, she reached out her hand.
“But Jesus turned him about, and when he saw her, he said, Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole. And the woman was made whole from that hour” (Matthew 9:20-22).
This faithful woman knew if she made the effort to come to the Savior and just reach out that he could heal her.
I have been struggling with feelings of inadequacy over the past few months. Normal situations are stressful, and stressful situations like what happened at the library and bakery threaten to push me over the edge.
But this story of the woman who grabbed hold of Jesus Christ’s garment gives me hope. When I’ve exhausted all my options — and am exhausted myself — there is hope knowing that Christ has the ability to completely heal me, all at once, and instantly.
Is my faith as great as hers? Even in seemingly small moments and for small things, like feeling worn out as a mother, do I believe Christ’s power can change me — physically, mentally or emotionally — whatever specific way I need healing?
I wonder how often the Savior has been right there in front of me, knowing of my struggles and wanting to heal me, waiting for me to just reach.
Carmen Rasmusen Herbert is a former "American Idol" contestant who writes about entertainment and family for the Deseret News. Her email is carmen.r.herbert@gmail.com.