My dad delivers snacks and beverages to construction sites. It’s physically demanding work—carrying heavy boxes and, at times, even refrigerators—especially for someone over sixty. Although I often worried about him, I never really thought to help, until this past Labor Day when I finally made up my mind to lend a hand. When I told him I wanted to work with him, he laughed and said, “It’s going to be tough. Are you sure you can handle it? Don’t tell me afterward that you’re never doing this again.”
That morning, just getting out of my cozy blankets to get ready felt like a battle. I kept thinking, “I work, too. Shouldn’t I be able to sleep in and rest on a holiday? Maybe I should just stay in bed.” But then another thought came to me: “Dad must go through this every morning. He hasn’t had the chance to rest for our family’s sake.” So, I shook off the sleepiness and got up.
When we arrived at the site, I put on gloves like my dad and started carrying boxes of drinks and snacks. In less than thirty minutes, my fingers and wrists began to ache. My back hurt so badly it felt like it could break, probably because I was lifting without any technique. Since it was my first time doing such work, I made plenty of mistakes.
Seeing how much I was struggling, Dad handed me lighter boxes while he carried multiple heavy ones, walking ahead. Under the blazing sun, he climbed stairs over and over, drenched in sweat, yet without complaint. I had come to help, but I felt more like a burden. I hadn’t even thought to give him a massage now and then. I felt ashamed and sorry, but he was the one worried about me.
“Isn’t it hard for my little princess? Still, working together with you makes it fun.”
Even though he must have been exhausted, carrying not only his share but mine too, he never mentioned his own pain. His only concern was for me.
I thought this must be how our Heavenly Parents feel. I once promised to follow in the footsteps of our Heavenly Father and Mother and help with the gospel work, but in truth, I’ve made mistakes and brought more worry than support. I didn’t grasp Their suffering, yet I complained about my own small struggles. Even so, God always comforted me, setting aside Their pain to encourage me for even the smallest of efforts. I am truly grateful for Their boundless love.
Maybe I’ll always be clumsy and imperfect until the day I enter heaven. But I know that my Heavenly Father and Mother are with me. I will do my best to share the gospel, and in all my weakness, I will rely even more on Them until I become a daughter They can truly be proud of.