Faith of Our Fathers

A few weeks ago I accompanied the Youth of our Stake on a week-long trip to historical sites of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. It was a wonderful week spent soaking up the vibrant energy of the teens we were with punctuated by several powerful faith building experiences as we walked the paths of the early Saints.

Among the locations we visited were Nauvoo and Carthage Illinois. These sites are significant to members of my faith because of events that transpired there in the 1840’s.

The early church experienced significant growth in a short period time after being organized by the prophet Joseph Smith. These early converts gathered together in Kirtland Ohio and Jackson county Missouri. Soon these settlements grew to be some of the largest cities in their respective states.

Especially in Missouri the swelling ranks of the Mormons incurred the wrath of the neighbors. Their ideas about religion and the fact that they tended to vote in a united block threatened the interests of those who supported slavery at that time. Soon armed mobs were terrorizing the Saints. Homes and crops were burned, people severely beaten and killed, women raped, and leadership arrested on accusations of treason. This all culminated with an extermination order issued by the governor of Missouri which made it legal to drive the Mormons from the state and murder them if they would not go.

All this because a group of people wanted to practice their religion in the way they saw fit.

The members were driven out of their homes in a brutally cold winter with barely the clothes on their backs. The suffering endured is difficult to imagine. After a period of time they settled on the banks of the Mississippi River in a swamp that no one else would possibly want.

They then toiled and built the city of Navuoo, which means beautiful in Hebrew. It truly was a beautiful city with the gleaming white temple at the center.

Then in 1845 Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum were martyred by an angry mob in Carthage which was located a few miles from Navuoo. The prophet was there under the promised protection of the governor of the state. History records that he was left to the designs of those who openly vowed to kill him in hopes of destroying the Church.

To their great surprise his death did not level the religion he had led. Once again the Saints were forced to leave their homes under threat of violence to cross the frozen prairie and move far enough west to a place they could finally live in peace.

The more you know about their situation questions begin to form. Why didn’t these people just give up, disavow the church, and go back to a life where persecution wasn’t raging around them? As I visited these sites the spirit of those pioneers seemed to imbue the landscape. There is a tangible feeling of faith and hope that penetrates your soul. These are sacred places.

It became clear to me that these people didn't just believe but knew that Gospel of Jesus Christ was a restoration of truth upon the earth. That Joseph Smith was exactly what he purported to be, just a man and a prophet called of God. They knew that God was at the head of this Church. They knew these things so deeply that they were willing to give their lives for the Kingdom. It led them from Jackson County to Navuoo and from there into the Salt Lake Valley and the thousands of graves that lie along the trail are testaments to their belief.

So what to do with this knowledge? How does their sacrifice apply to us today?

Elder Dallin H. Oaks

 “Many of our challenges are different from those faced by former pioneers but perhaps just as dangerous and surely as significant to our own salvation and the salvation of those who follow us.  For example, as for life-threatening obstacles, the wolves that prowled around pioneer settlements were no more dangerous to their children than the drug dealers or pornographers who threaten our children. Similarly, the early pioneers’ physical hunger posed no greater threat to their well-being than the spiritual hunger experienced by many in our day. The children of earlier pioneers were required to do incredibly hard physical work to survive their environment. That was no greater challenge than many of our young people now face from the absence of hard work, which results in spiritually corrosive challenges to discipline, responsibility, and self-worth. Jesus taught: “And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell” (Matt. 10:28).

In the latest Ensign Magazine President Thomas S. Monson, the current President of the Church and prophet wrote

“A dictionary defines a pioneer as ‘one who goes before to prepare or open up the way for others to follow.’ Can we somehow muster the courage and steadfastness of purpose that characterized the pioneers of a former generation? Can you and I, in actual fact, be pioneers?

I know we can be. 

Oh, how the world needs pioneers today!”

Studying and understanding what the early Saints went through will inevitably lead one to the question “why did they do it?” Finding that answer for ourselves will allow us to follow in their footsteps and do the work God asks of us today. We can draw strength from their example and unite in heart with those wonderful people of the past. We too can sing with full purpose of heart that "all is well" even as the storms of life swirl around us. God was with them and He is with us as well.

I invite you find out for yourself what those Saints and I know. There is nothing more important. It will change your life.

Cheers,

Brenda

To find out more or request missionaries to visit with you please visit mormon.org.

Love Your Choice

Last Sunday my 16 year old son and I had a chance to watch a recording of the May 5^th CES Devotional by Elder William Walker. During his address Elder Walker related a story about President of the Church Thomas S. Monson.

It was just prior to a General Conference weekend and all of the senior leadership of the Church were gathered together to be instructed by the First Presidency. As they waited for the meeting to begin the 9 o’clock hour came and went. This was unusual and the brethren began to worry.

“Someone walked out a side door to check if some assistance might be needed. On his re-entrance to the room we were told President Monson would join us shortly. About 15 minutes after the meeting was to have started President Monson entered the room. Out of respect we stood as he entered. We were happy to see him and pleased that he looked well and it didn’t appear that there was any obvious reason why he would have been late. President Monson went strait to the pulpit and said ‘Brethren, I’m sorry to be late but my wife needed me this morning.’  I was deeply impressed and humbled and couldn’t stop thinking about President Monson’s words. This was a very important meeting. The entire senior leadership of the Church was assembled but President Monson set the example for us all. His wife needed him and he took the time necessary to care for her. It was a great sermon.”

 

At the end of this account my son said something very simple and profound. “Love is like faith isn’t it mom? Love without works is dead.”

As I sat there a little stunned at the beauty and truth of that statement it became clear to me that President Monson and his lovely wife Frances have spent a lifetime modeling that very idea. It is worthy of emulation.

In a conference talk called Hallmarks of a Happy Home President Monson spoke of a framed expression that his Aunt had embroidered which hung on the kitchen wall of his boyhood home. It carried a world of practical application: 

  
Choose your love; love your choice.

That expression was put into practice early on as heavy responsibilities came shortly after their marriage. As Bishop, Mission President, and other callings came to the remarkably young and talented Monson Frances was unwaveringly supportive.

 “It has never been a sacrifice to see my husband doing the Lord's work. It has blessed me, and it has blessed our children. He always knew that if it was for the Church, I expected him to do what he had to do.”

This support was received with thankfulness and love. 

“I have never known Frances to complain once of my Church responsibilities,’ he says. ‘I have been gone many days and many nights, and I have rarely been able to sit with her in the congregation. But there is no one like her—absolutely no one. She is in every way supportive and is a woman of quiet and profoundly powerful faith”

“I thank my Father in Heaven for my sweet companion, Frances. … I could not have asked for a more loyal, loving, and understanding companion”  

 There has been a sense of fun in their relationship as well. Both are good-natured and able to see the humor in even difficult situations. President Monson related the following.

“My sweet Frances had a terrible fall a few years ago. She went to the hospital. She lay in a coma for about 18 days. I sat by her side. She never moved a muscle. The children cried, the grandchildren cried, and I wept. Not a movement.

And then one day, she opened her eyes. I set a speed record in getting to her side. I gave her a kiss and a hug, and I said, ‘You’re back. I love you.’ And she said, ‘I love you, too, Tom, but we’re in serious trouble.’ I thought, ‘What do you know about trouble, Frances?’ She said, ‘I forgot to mail in our fourth-quarter income tax payment.

I said to her, ‘Frances, if you had said that before you extended a kiss to me and told me you love me, I might have left you here”

Now with Sister Monson’s passing and as we bid her farewell for a time it seems appropriate to ponder the example she and President Monson have set.

Unconditional love, gratitude, support, and humor, all of these actions took effort. Truly love without works is dead and the Monson’s have been a magnificent example to all of us of the vibrant happiness that comes from that determination.

“Brethren, let’s treat our wives with dignity and with respect. They’re our eternal companions. Sisters, honor your husbands. They need to hear a good word. They need a friendly smile. They need a warm expression of true love.”

 May we all take those words to heart and do the work of love by loving our choice a little more today.

Cheers,

Brenda

Praying for a Jerk

If you’ve ever been in the sixth grade (and I’m assuming most of you have had that delightful experience) you will know that it is a time of drama and difficulty for the contenders of that epic occurrence. Physical, mental, and emotional upheavals are almost compulsory as those lovely tweens perilously reach for fleeting adulthood all the while frantically clawing to hang on to their slipping childhood. This ballet of life is completed with all the grace a penguin who has found himself straddling two icebergs that have decided to part ways. Disaster seems imminent.

Being the nice parents we are, my hubby Buns and I chose this time to uproot our eldest son and transport him 1500 miles to the foreign culture of the South. Our family first moved to the great state of Texas the summer before Dubs was to enter the sixth grade and it was an experience for all of us.

Socially Dubbers did well with his peer group. He was large for his age and had some physical prowess and that was accepted among the football loving natives. His relations with adults and in particular certain authority figures was another story.

You could say rural West Texas is a little old fashioned in what they regard as acceptable behavior in children. Spare the rod and spoil the child is rule. Many parents speak about how all kids need is a good “beating” once in a while so they will behave. Adults call for absolute obedience and respect just by virtue of the fact that they survived into adulthood. Children are to obey and not question anything, and a yes Ma’am and no Sir are the only allowable replies.

This was a shock to all of us but especially difficult for Dubs. He was not one to talk back or cause upset just for the fun of it, but he was raised and is a person who naturally questions dubious reasoning. We encouraged him to think for himself and to speak up against injustice. This did not go over well with one of his teachers.

One day Dubs committed the cardinal sin of challenging a principle this teacher was relating to the class. Honestly, I don’t even remember what the topic was but I know that I agreed with him. He wasn’t disrespectful in the way he did this, but she was insulted and sent him off to the principal’s office for the perceived insubordination.

Buns and I were summoned and told that our child had refused to say yes ma’am to a teacher and had questioned her authority in class. He was to be punished; either “swats” or in-school suspension for a day. I was incensed at the ridiculous nature of the situation but explained our position that we don’t allow anyone to hit our kids, regardless of policy. Unfortunately, our unorthodox standing on the matter just added fuel to the flames.

For the months following the situation that teacher singled Dubs out every chance she got. She accused him of things he didn’t do, harassed him on the playground, and acted like (for lack of a better word) a jerk. When I would contact her about what was going on I was met with sneering insolence and the communication we directed to administration just seemed to make things worse. Buns and I had no idea what to do and the bullying was wearing on our sweet boy. He became angry and withdrawn and started missing school frequently. The whole thing seemed completely unfair.

One night I was preparing a Sunday School lesson and the material included the Sermon on the Mount. As I read the words of the Savior it seemed He was speaking directly to me. “But I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.” I was angry at this woman and the situation, she was indeed my enemy. The words penetrated my soul.

With some resentment and hesitation I got down on my knees and prayed for her. Then I went in to talk to Dubs and read with him those same words. We decided that we had done what we could and now it was up to the Lord. We would pray for this teacher every day even though neither one of us really wanted to.

In the back of my mind I expected a miracle to take place. Surely all our good will and prayers for her would add up in our mercy account and that teacher would change. Instead, the year went on and the irritating behavior continued. Dubs learned to keep his head down around her and managed to stay out of her way.

Each morning before school he and I would ask the Lord to bless our enemy  but nothing seemed to happen. She didn’t change her attitude towards us one iota. After several weeks of this experiment we noticed something else instead. The anger we both felt began to dissipate. Our perspective changed and we realized that this trial was a growing time. He and I both found ourselves able to forgive her and our prayers together became more sincere. I stopped calling her names in my head and elsewhere. We both came to understand that much of the problem came from culture differences. We repented. We both felt the love of the Savior through the Spirit on the hard days and instead of the Lord changing our enemy He changed us.

C.S. Lewis said “I pray because I can't help myself. I pray because I'm helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time- waking and sleeping. It doesn't change God- it changes me.”

It was precisely because Dubs was willing to follow the Savior in a difficult situation that hearts were changed and testimonies of forgiveness grew. As we prayed- God didn’t change, that teacher didn’t change, but we did and the result was a peace that surpassed all understanding. It was a lesson that neither of us will soon forget.

Thankfully, that teacher moved on to some other school district so she couldn't torture Dubbers for yet another year. I think it is one of the tender mercies of the Lord things worked out that way and hopefully one day she will learn what we did. That anger only hurts the one who holds it and peace is found through forgiveness.

Cheers,

Brenda

How have following the commandments brought unexpected positive outcomes in your life?

Has the Lord used the bad behavior of another to bless your life?

Wherein a Rasta Mon Changes My Perspective

A week ago my hubby Buns and I did something decidedly unusual for us. We went on a cruise. This was not something we had done before for a multitude of reasons. Those reasons mainly being tied to the financial and logistical constraints of rearing four late model children. 

Many family road and camping trips had been pursued up to this point, with 4,297 toddler bathroom stops in every repulsive germ infested truck stop on the West Coast along the way, but never had Buns and I gone, just us, to do much of anything. 

This year my awesome mother-in-law took pity on our lack of grown-up vacation experience and arranged for us to accompany her on a kids-free week long trip to the Western Caribbean. My mom and sister bravely volunteered to watch the troops while we journeyed.

The trip was oh-so-fun. The ship beautiful, the activities exciting, the food scrum-didili-upmtious, and the sea breezes divine. As we made our way  from port to port, picking up Mexican vanilla, souvenir T-shirts, and talavera pottery along the way I found my mind wandering to home and worrying about how the kids were doing, the bills that we needed to pay when we got back, if the plumbing was behaving itself, what was going on at work. 

Worrying is a genetic trait in my family. Along with our Scandinavian genealogy which provides mayonnaise white easily sunburnt skin, we worry. A lot. And usually it is about stuff that has only a 0.01% chance of actually happening. 

Will I be attacked by rabid squirrels today? Is the low grade fever my 5 year old has really the black plague? Will the pint-sized mistake I made at work bankrupt the entire company and bring hoards of raving lawyers down on us?

Then there is the worry about spiritual growth. Am I overcoming this weakness fast enough? Why can’t I find the answer to my question right this instant? Why do I have to suffer this particular trial? Haven’t I already learned this lesson?

Never mind the waving palm trees and the coral pink sunsets, I worried the toilet at home was going to somehow explode and I wouldn’t be there to take care of it.

Then we got to Jamaica. A beautiful port- clean and controlled by the cruise companies with smiling merchants selling wood carvings and hand-made dolls, Bob Marley playing over the loudspeakers. After perusing the vendors for a while it was decided we would leave the walls of our tourist enclosure and venture into the city to see if we could find real Jamaican jerk chicken. 

The city outside was a different place altogether. Crumbling buildings painted tropical colors lined narrow streets. Beat up 25 year old cars raced by with reckless abandon, honking at pedestrians to get out of the way as they bounced up and over the sidewalks. Cab drivers lined the streets and aggressively accosted us to take a ride in their vans. I was even offered a joint by a young man trying to sell his Reggae album for $10.

It was clear that the lives of the people living there were tough. Money was scarce, the living conditions were difficult, and that to keep yourself and your family fed you had to really hustle.

As we walked deeper into the city after getting directions to a local restaurant, we came to a man selling handmade necklaces at a little table on the side of the road. He was old. He was small. His salt and pepper hair hung almost to his waist in dreadlocks over a filthy white T-shirt. He wore a dilapidated Rastafarian cap and as we stopped to talk to him I realized he had the most beautiful soft brown eyes I have ever seen. They were the color of coffee beans and were full of humor and love and wisdom. 

He told us that he was a Rasta Mon who lived in the mountains above town. He made his living by carving jewelry and selling it to the travelers who came by sea for a day, but what he also did was teach. He wanted people to taste the culture and the way of life in Jamaica. He wanted to transmit his truth.

In the course of five short minutes we learned about the life colors of his people. 

Red for the blood of their ancestors who had spent hundreds of years in slavery.

Yellow for the life giving sun that dominates the sky. 

Green for the trees and plants that sustain man.

Black for the skin of the people.

He spoke about the deep connection mankind has to the earth and through a thick accent told us about their attitude that no matter what the circumstances that there was no need to worry. Everything was going to be all right. Life is beautiful and we have power even in the humblest of circumstances.

Irie. Power, beauty, love.

As we walked away from our encounter I marveled at the deep faith this man had in a higher power. It was part of his being, he knew that even in the harshest circumstances God would take care of him and bring him to a place of peace. There was no doubt. Pain, poverty, oppression, none of it mattered. All you had to do was come out of the mindset that creates injustice and you could change the world. Love your fellow man, stop being greedy, trust God and stop worrying, it will be alright. 

The idea is basic and profoundly freeing. I imagine the ritualistic cannabis smoking helps with the easy going outlook as well, but even for someone who doesn’t participate in that activity the basis of their belief system is a universal truth we should take notice of. 

Obsessive worry is just doubt and lack of faith, a break down in the trust I should have in God. As smart and sophisticated as I think I am I’m really just second guessing the Almighty when I worry. The toilet will be OK. Life will be OK. It's all a blessing.

So relax, don’t worry. Everything is gonna be alright.

Irie.

Brenda

D&C 100:12 Therefore, continue your journey and let your hearts rejoice; for behold, and lo, I am with you even unto the end. 

I found truth in the tropics, what unexpected place have you found it?

Sam's Story

This is Sam

I have always admired large families. In my teen years several of my close friends were the products of those types. Seven kids, ten kids, nine kids. Those households were crazy and messy and fun. This had an impact on me.  I ordered up a soccer team of boys for my future expectations.

After getting married and checking the first two slots off of my all-boys roster in quick succession, the genetic quirks that had limited my mom to four kids and my grandmother to three manifested themselves. For eight long years we tried and failed to have our third. The doctors were not encouraging; my body looked at pregnancy like it was a peanut butter and onion sandwich. Blech, no thanks.

I was beyond grateful for the two awesome boys I had and finally came to terms with the fact that it just wasn’t in the cards that we should have another baby. It was then, once I had accepted God’s will that a miracle occurred. 

That miracle arrived after a tumultuous 8 ½ months of health issues and eventual bed rest. No kidding that little super-pink bundle of joy nearly did me in. It was such a rocky road that when it was over and we had a healthy baby girl in our arms I said to Buns “never again!” 

Life went on and due to the disturbing realization that it takes money to raise three kids, Buns and I found ourselves on the hamster wheel. I worked at a bank days, he did technical support nights. We would pass each other coming and going and our conversations happened on phone calls at break times. 

I would come home from stressful fast paced workdays and cook dinner, help with homework, do laundry, and make sure everyone was bathed and ready for the next day. Then there was the other million things that moms do. On top of that our little girl had nonstop ear infections. She and I sat up countless nights, rocking and trying everything to soothe the pain in her ears. I was exhausted, and because of the economic conditions of the area, didn’t see any possibility of getting out of our hamster cage anytime soon.

Even with the situation not being ideal, we were happy and I would think to myself “man I sure am glad we are done having kids, I just couldn’t do it again.” 

You can imagine my surprise, when on one of the rare days a week Buns and I were home together, he said to me “Brenda, I feel like we need to have another baby.” After doing a proverbial spit take I nearly shouted “you can’t be serious?” 

So that you don’t get the wrong impression, Buns is not a person who likes watching his spouse run herself into the ground. He gets no joy out of torturing her (unless it is to fluff the covers once in a while). He knew our situation but had been having the impression for some time and had prayerfully considered it. He knew how I was going to react, but could not keep ignoring that prompting.

After a few minutes of hyperventilating, I decided that there was no way God was going to ask this of me. He knew I was going to get sick. He knew it was going to take everything I had to be pregnant and keep up what I was doing. There was no way he was going to ask me to do this. It was too hard. I decided to pray about it, confident that the answer was going to be that Buns was just engaging in wishful thinking. 

I chose to ask my question a few days later in a quiet spot in our bedroom. I started off telling Heavenly Father all of the reasons this was a bad idea. It wasn’t that I didn’t want another child, I did, but the circumstances were just not right. I couldn’t do it. I then told Father that I would do His will whatever that was, but I was certain I knew what the answer would be. As I knelt there I had a sense of peace fill my heart but didn’t get a yes or no. I stayed for a while waiting but nothing came. 

I got up and headed out into the hall. As I did, I glanced over at a small table that was next to the door. There on the table was a copy of the Ensign magazine. The cover picture was a beautiful painting by Carl Bloch of Christ, He was pointing to a little boy. They were both looking expectantly at me. I stopped in my tracks and could not tear my eyes from that picture. 

Frozen in that moment, the Spirit flooded me with the knowledge that there was a little boy, a member of our family, who was waiting to join us. His name was Sam and nothing would be complete without him. All the worry about work, and kids, energy, and health evaporated instantly. Sam was waiting and we needed him. 

Tears streaming down my face I went to tell Buns what I had learned. Even with that powerful confirmation of the Spirit I knew it had taken almost 9 years the last time around. Sam would probably take a decade to arrive.

One month later I was pregnant. 

As expected, there were serious trials to be had and overcome in the short term. And even with the conviction that I was doing the Lord's will, there was some major whining done on my part. It was hard, it was scary, there were many moments spent by myself, and Buns, and others praying for us. Priesthood blessings were had. Once again, bed rest was impatiently endured. Thankfully Sammy arrived healthy and happy. 

Not too much later our life in the world of hamsters ended with a move across the country to a place where the pace is slow and everyone has a drawl. We were directed  to a situation that allowed us to be together, to take care of our kids in the way we wanted, and to slow down.

Now as I look at my precocious, adorable, long-lashed Sam I shake my head at the foolishness of my selfish attitude. I don't know better than the Lord what will bring joy into my life. My perspective is so limited, why can't I let go and trust him more? Part of me knows that it is because I am a wimp and with the best blessings there always seems to be hard work, faith, overcoming fear, and pain to be had before we get to the good stuff. And sometimes things don't work out the way we think they should. Sometimes they do. 

Either way when we keep doing His will the joy eventually comes, the blessing is exponentially bigger than the discomfort of the trial preceding it, and He is able to teach and bless us in completely wonderful and unexpected ways.

And sometimes that blessing will squeeze your cheeks between his little hands and say "I wuv you mom."

Cheers,

Brenda

Why I Get Excited Thinking about Death

Whoa there Nelly, did you forget to take your pills this morning?

Rest assured I am of sound mind (or at least as sound as it is possible for me to be), do not have my bags packed and am not ready to board the train into the next life. Nor do I relish the thought of the period of time directly preceding that journey but I am fascinated with the wealth of information we have available and get excited the more I learn about what my existence will be like once I get there.

lds.org

“All men know that they must die. And it is important that we should understand the reasons and causes of our exposure to the vicissitudes of life and of death, and the designs and purposes of God in our coming into the world, our sufferings here, and our departure hence. What is the object of our coming into existence, then dying and falling away, to be here no more? It is but reasonable to suppose that God would reveal something in reference to the matter, and it is a subject we ought to study more than any other. We ought to study it day and night, for the world is ignorant in reference to their true condition and relation. If we have any claim on our Heavenly Father for anything, it is for knowledge on this important subject” (Joseph Smith, History of the Church, 6:50).

Death can be scary on the face of it and the Lord has put a strong sense of self-preservation inside of us so that the second the going gets tough we don’t run out and end it all. Can you imagine what would happen without that instinct? “Oh man, I burned the eggs this morning; I better go drive my car off a cliff.”

This sense of self-preservation runs in tandem with the purposes of our not being able to remember our pre-mortal life. It would be absolutely miserable to have the memory of living with Heavenly Father while we are away from Him and making our way through the difficulties and trials of this life. The homesickness would absolutely debilitate us. With that, there is every so often a whiff of that longing for home that our spirit remembers. It helps us to stay focused on the goals we set for ourselves back then. To gain a body, be tested, and get home.

The restoration of the Gospel of Jesus Christ has given Mormons a different view of the impact of death than many others in the world. In a conversation I had just yesterday with a wonderful lady of another faith she explained that they believed that you were born, you die, and then you go to either heaven or hell and that was the end of it.

She certainly wasn’t wrong but what a blessing it is to have the more complete version of that scenario.

If you have no idea what the heck I’m talking about please see my post on the The Plan of Salvation in a Nutshell.

With this amazing knowledge of the Plan comes peace and the fear of death dissipates . 

Alma 27:28 “…and they never did look upon death with any degree of terror, for their hope and views of Christ and the resurrection; therefore, death was swallowed up to them by the victory of Christ over it.”

Brigham Young said “We shall turn round and look upon [the valley of death] and think, when we have crossed it, why this is the greatest advantage of my whole existence, for I have passed from a state of sorrow, grief, mourning, woe, misery, pain, anguish and disappointment into a state of existence, where I can enjoy life to the fullest extent as far as that can be done without a body. My spirit is set free, I thirst no more, I want to sleep no more, I hunger no more, I tire no more, I run, I walk, I labor, I go, I come, I do this, I do that, whatever is required of me, nothing like pain or weariness, I am full of life, full of vigor, and I enjoy the presence of my heavenly Father” (Journal of Discourses, 17:142).

“All fear of this death has been removed from the Latter-day Saints. They have no dread of the temporal death, because they know that as death came upon them by the transgression of Adam, so by the righteousness of Jesus Christ shall life come unto them, and though they die, they shall live again. Possessing this knowledge, they have joy even in death, for they know that they shall rise again and shall meet again beyond the grave. They know that the spirit dies not at all; that it passes through no change, except the change from imprisonment in this mortal clay to freedom and to the sphere in which it acted before it came to this earth” (Smith, Gospel Doctrine, 428).

My interest as of late has been on the state of our spirits right after we pass on to the Spirit World. While that is a much bigger subject that I can chew on in this limited forum I have come across a really wonderful talk from Education Week at BYU that had me on the edge of my seat. I share it below, it is worth every minute.

'What Is This Thing That Men Call Death'

By President Gordon B. Hinckley

What is this thing that men call death,
This quiet passing in the night
'Tis not the end, but genesis
Of better worlds and greater light.

O God, touch thou my aching heart,
And calm my troubled, haunting fears.
Let hope and faith, transcendent, pure,
Give strength and peace beyond my tears.

There is no death, but only change,
With recompense for vict'ry won.
The gift of him who loved all men,
The Son of God, the Holy One.

Faith comes as knowledge of the truth increases. A major benefit of faith is that fear cannot exist in the same place. Death doesn't need to be scary and I think that is pretty exciting.

Cheers,

Brenda