Faith

My middle name is Faith. 

I've always loved it. 

Even to the point of protecting it. 

Once, in 6th grade, some friends of mine were guessing middle names, and I gave them a hint that mine started with an "F." They had a hard time coming up with something, so I teased them that it was Fredericka. They were convinced, though! So when I busted up laughing and told them the truth, they weren't sure they could believe me. A nickname grew out of it all, and they started affectionately calling me Fred. I loved it. I loved being special enough to have a silly nickname, and I loved the idea that my middle name was still...safe.

Having the middle name Faith has been interesting for helping me learn about myself. Sometimes I felt shy to admit to people that it was my middle name, because I knew the story my parents told about it; while pregnant, my mother felt that I had a lot of faith, or that I would help the family with my faith. It was important enough to her and my papa to stray from tradition and give a daughter a middle name (something my parents didn't otherwise bother with for girls). 

I never wanted anyone to think I was better than they just because I had my significant middle name. 

So I protected it (lovingly). I simply kept it private.

But for whatever reason, the door's open today. My talking tap is on. 

I do have faith. And even though I know it's tiny in many ways, it's also what helps me to live an optimistic life. My faith helps me to change my attitude and perspective. My faith helps me not to worry. My faith makes me happy. While making dinner tonight, I've been wondering what specific kind of faith it is that's behind everything else. I figured it out while comparing my relationship with my papa to my relationship with my Heavenly Father. 

I commented on one of my sister's posts written on my papa's birthday. Without thinking much on it, since it's simply the truth, I said that I grew up feeling like I was my papa's favorite daughter. Yet somehow, I knew that each of my sisters was also his favorite daughter. And I was utterly content with this knowledge. I was aware that it didn't make much sense literally, but I knew it was true. 

I've come to realize that I feel the same way about Heavenly Father. Every time I pray or receive a priesthood blessing--or simply notice something beautiful in nature that is surely there for my pleasure--I feel that Heavenly Father absolutely loves me. The most wonderful thing about that? He also absolutely loves you. 

Each one of us. So dearly, so wholly. 

Having faith that Heavenly Father loves you is...healing. It gives you the strength to understand yourself, the bravery to become better, and the comfort you need as you learn to forgive yourself. 

Just trying to believe it will help the sense of love bloom in your heart. He loves you. 

He loves you.

And the more you understand that, the more you will feel blessed and happy and full of love for everyone...including yourself.