"And then they went on."

This evening I had the opportunity to watch a delightful puppet show put on by my sweet nephew Brady. The entire show was completely spur-of-the-moment. I was surprised to see what a wonderful story teller this little guy is, especially when he gets going. It started off with the sweetest of beginnings... "Once there was a little boy riding a cow..." (Which was Spiderman riding on a spotted cow with wheels.) He then began to tell of the adventures of this young boy. Every minute or so he would introduce a new character by having the boy ask if they wanted to join in on their adventure. Soon, many a creature had joined this band of friends. What I loved most about his puppet show was when he would say, "And then they went on." for he said this quite a few times. When they were done at the river... "And then they went on." The cave... "And then they went on." And so forth up the mountain, through the jungle and back up another mountain, they continued onward, gathering friends of all shapes and sizes as they went. There were no questions asked of the new friends but one. "Would you like to come with us on our adventure?"

I have thought about his story all evening. Noone wants to go along on their journey alone. I hope that I can be more like Brady. His sweet spirit was made ever so clear in his play tonight. And a simple message of hope was given. For trials will come. Swift rivers. Dark caves. Tall mountains. Dangerous jungles. And even when we have passed through these we may be asked, again, to climb the heights of the mountains. "And then they went on." His words ring clear. We must go on. Endurance brings light and love to those around us. And those around us will return that light and love. I am so grateful for children. They teach us without trying and love us without question.

"I am the gardener here."

I would like to share a story, that came to my mind today, from a talk given by D. Todd Christofferson entitled "As Many As I Love, I Rebuke and Chasten":

God uses another form of chastening or correction to guide us to a future we do not or cannot now envision but which He knows is the better way for us. President Hugh B. Brown, formerly a member of the Twelve and a counselor in the First Presidency, provided a personal experience. He told of purchasing a rundown farm in Canada many years ago. As he went about cleaning up and repairing his property, he came across a currant bush that had grown over six feet (1.8 m) high and was yielding no berries, so he pruned it back drastically, leaving only small stumps. Then he saw a drop like a tear on the top of each of these little stumps, as if the currant bush were crying, and thought he heard it say:

“How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth. … And now you have cut me down. Every plant in the garden will look down on me. … How could you do this to me? I thought you were the gardener here.”

President Brown replied, “Look, little currant bush, I am the gardener here, and I know what I want you to be. I didn’t intend you to be a fruit tree or a shade tree. I want you to be a currant bush, and someday, little currant bush, when you are laden with fruit, you are going to say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for loving me enough to cut me down.’”

Years later, President Brown was a field officer in the Canadian Army serving in England. When a superior officer became a battle casualty, President Brown was in line to be promoted to general, and he was summoned to London. But even though he was fully qualified for the promotion, it was denied him because he was a Mormon. The commanding general said in essence, “You deserve the appointment, but I cannot give it to you.” What President Brown had spent 10 years hoping, praying, and preparing for slipped through his fingers in that moment because of blatant discrimination. Continuing his story, President Brown remembered:

“I got on the train and started back … with a broken heart, with bitterness in my soul. … When I got to my tent, … I threw my cap on the cot. I clenched my fists, and I shook them at heaven. I said, ‘How could you do this to me, God? I have done everything I could do to measure up. There is nothing that I could have done—that I should have done—that I haven’t done. How could you do this to me?’ I was as bitter as gall.

“And then I heard a voice, and I recognized the tone of this voice. It was my own voice, and the voice said, ‘I am the gardener here. I know what I want you to do.’ The bitterness went out of my soul, and I fell on my knees by the cot to ask forgiveness for my ungratefulness. …

“… And now, almost 50 years later, I look up to [God] and say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for cutting me down, for loving me enough to hurt me.’”⁵

God knew what Hugh B. Brown was to become and what was needed for that to happen, and He redirected his course to prepare him for the holy apostleship.

Sometimes we cannot see the reasoning behind a situation, but there is a plan. Our lives have meaning, purpose, and direction. Sometimes it is just hard to see, but remember the little currant bush and press forward. Hope and courage walk hand in hand. -Erin

Letters.

In a world full of technology, that is progressing daily, I feel as if there are simple pleasures that are being left behind. Out of the many things that I could choose to list I choose just one.

One thing.

Letters.

The old dusty box that you discovered your great grandparents love letters from the war. The sweet note letting you know you are loved. The hand written evidence of a life once lived. What will our children and their children be able to read of our lives?

Text messages? Deleted after a couple days. Journals? Blogs (Exibit A). Emails? System crashed. Lost.

Challenge? Yes. Write someone a letter. Small. Big. One word. Leave that note. It will mean so much more than a text or an email. It will be something they can hold on to.

Letters.