House of Faith

This morning I was thinking about the house I belong to.  I recently returned from the Wizarding World  of Harry Potter at Universal Studios Hollywood.  While waiting in line, I played around with a couple of Harry Potter apps including the sorting hat.  After asking several questions, the sorting hat declared I was 56% in the house of "Hufflepuff."  What the heck?   That's the weird one.  Great.  Oh well.  I have a lot more house pride as I consider what it means to be part of the house of "O'Malley".

it meant so much to meet to gather for the  baptism of my great niece and participate in the baptismal service. My brother did the ordinance and talk about baptism; my sister gave the talk about the Holy Ghost; my mother and sister in law gave the prayers. I sang a song and played the piano interlude.  There's a special power that comes when everyone is on the same page.  We believe Jesus is real.  We believe the gospel is real.  We believe in the restored church. We believe in priesthood power.  We believe in ordinances.  Believing together brings us closer.  The next day the counselor in the bishopric mentioned how touched he was with the powerful yet simple faith if dear Bella. it reminded me of my own house of faith. 

in his talk, my brother shared how our mother had taught him faith my teaching him the Lord's prayer.  My mother also taught me faith by bringing me to church, teaching me the gospel, bearing her testimony and observing her commitment to every church calling-including her latest calling as a primary teacher for the 5 year old children.  My faith had grown as I have observed my siblings and their commitment to the gospel. They show their belief through action. I not only come from a house of faith but I feel like we are also united in our faith.  Together we are really stronger.  We are loyal to a cause much greater than ourselves.  We defend our faith just as fervently as any Gryffindor would! 

Not that it's Hogwarts castle, but I certainly am sad that the  Woodruff ward  building is being sold.  It houses so many of my childhood memories.  I look at the light fixtures  and remember gazing and imagining all sorts of things to pass the time while laying down on the pew as a 3 year old.  The familiar strained glass windows seemed to make our little ward house especially unique. The pulpit was sacred ground where I bore my testimony in word and song.  The classrooms still have the orginal hardware reminding me of primary kids escaping through the windows and other classroom antics. The stage was the place where we held our very large teenager Sunday School class complete with lesson and Texas sheetcake or cinnamon rolls from Mom-good ole' Sister O'Malley.  The primary room was the place where I learned about magnifying callings. Back in the day before the block meetings, we spent so much time in the building, it was  almost like second home.  It was my very own  house of faith. it was the place where I felt the spirit over and over and over again.

Yet, the Woodruff chapel is not where my faith resides.  It's part of my own house-memories of faith stored in my body and in my spirit.  The light peaking through my own stained glass windows reminds me that I really am part of the house of Elohim, God the Father.   I'm  part of something so much greater than myself. I seek unity of faith with my fellow brothers and sisters.  We really do have something to cheer and show our house pride.