Lessons on SnowSeemingly harmless, white, snow falls like confetti from the sky and lands softly on the earth below. Dinner is ready and next on the list is helping my kids get ready for church. I peer out the window and inhale deeply, a mix of hot roast pork and cold terror. If I could curl up on the couch under a comfortable blanket with a good book and watch the world turn white, I would find the snow as enchanting as my children find it. However, at the top of the list the driveway is clear so we can go to church. Coming out of the garage, I grab a shovel. I begin to clear a path wide enough for the van, while thinking, “I prefer the look of pristine snow glistening in the winter sun.” My thoughts turn to my husband sitting there and I told him, “No.” He offered to come right away and take care of it. I protested, “Dad, the plows aren't out yet and the eight-mile trip will be brutal.” He replied, “Find someone to shovel your driveway in the next half hour or I'll go there.” I hung up the phone and I must have looked terrible because my cute five-year-old son looked at me and asked, “What's wrong, Mommy?” “It's not safe for me to shovel snow because it's too heavy.” I replied darkly. He looked at me, his eyes shining with a combination of chivalry and excitement, and said, “I can do it, Mom!” My heart nearly exploded with a combination of pride and love, mixed with fear. I imagined my little man struggling with all his strength to dig an escape route to the church. Terror stole my emotions; I couldn't send him out there. In a split second of mama bear panic, I realized I had to do the unthinkable; ask for help. With trembling fingers and anxiety ringing in my ears, I called my home teachers. The thought of my little guy struggling under the weight of the snow allowed the words “I need help” to escape my lips. Suddenly from the other room I hear screams mixed with the roar from outside of a snowplow clearing the sidewalk: “It's doing my job. I wanted to do it. I wanted Emma to face things no other woman could ever imagine so that the Kingdom of God would move forward. She didn't have the luxury of waiting for Joseph to open up a path of ease and comfort for her. She couldn't always wait for volunteers to help her. He collected sacred documents and crossed a freezing river in the dead of night. He carried his sons forward despite the adversary's constant attacks. Peace and comfort were rarely available to her and her children. They often walked alone, with hope in their hearts and prayers on their lips. Sometimes they had no choice but to ask for help. I should be able to follow Emma's example and cheerfully do my part to advance our family. It doesn't matter if today or ever I'm the only woman out shoveling snow. It doesn't matter if I have to ask for help; I can joyfully do what is asked of me. As the snow piles up, happy and uplifting thoughts fill my head. The Spirit is loosening my attitude. I think of Emma Smith and her example. I think of many of the Prophet's other wives and the unwavering support they offer their husbands. I think of my stake president's wife, Sister Linnell. She once explained that she knew her husband could spend his time on less significant pursuits, but she knows he is a worthy priesthood