In Moses 7:63, the Savior instructs Adam that "all things are created and made to bear record of me." The Savior illustrated this in the way he taught during his earthly ministry- largely by using everyday occurrences in parables to illustrate His gospel. One of my favorite is the simple scripture, "Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father. but the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows." (Matthew 10:29-31) It is but one of many, many times the Lord declares his love and devotion to His children. This one I love because it focuses on how individually precious we are to him. With that in mind I have found life to be series of "personal parables," if you will, in which the Lord helps me understand His love and His will for me.
One of the first, and most treasured, was when my youngest son was learning to walk, I was blessed to be teaching early morning seminary. With a baby and two elementary aged children, I often felt my seminary preparation was less than it should be, but having to have a lesson prepared each morning meant my mind was constantly mulling over the next section, and I loved the feel that brought to my life- like the Lord was more visible and real. However, it also brought into focus all the ways my life was less than it should be, and I just knew, after all he had done and given for me, He was disappointed, perhaps even angry with me. Then came the afternoon Jacob decided to take his first steps. He had pulled himself up using the couch and stood facing me grinning. I grinned back and encouraged him to "come to mommy" and he did. I, of course, was so excited! I laughed and hugged and kissed him, and he laughed. And we were soon doing it again. It suddenly occurred to me that I had gravely mistaken God's view of my life. He clearly tells me that I am his child; he clearly tells me "as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts." (Romans 8:16-17, Isaiah 55:9) He clearly tells me that He is the perfect embodiment of love. If, in my love for my son, my only thought at his attempts to walk were joy, excitement, and a determination to offer him all he needed to succeed, why on earth did I credit God with such a different response to my imperfect steps? I couldn't imagine anything more painful than to have had my treasured child respond to this wonderful milestone in his development by turning away from me in shame and self criticism. This marvelous mortal opportunity was provided expressly to give us the opportunity to choose to walk like our father. And just as gravity made it possible for Jacob to learn to walk, Heavenly Father provided the opposing forces necessary for us to learn to walk like Him. What would happen, I wondered, if I changed my thoughts to a certainty that the Lord was cheering me on in my feeble attempts. That his arm was truly there for the purpose of helping me gain confidence in my steps. That he understood, far more than me, what a gradual process it was. And, like I did with my son, he treasured the joy of helping me through that process.
One of the first, and most treasured, was when my youngest son was learning to walk, I was blessed to be teaching early morning seminary. With a baby and two elementary aged children, I often felt my seminary preparation was less than it should be, but having to have a lesson prepared each morning meant my mind was constantly mulling over the next section, and I loved the feel that brought to my life- like the Lord was more visible and real. However, it also brought into focus all the ways my life was less than it should be, and I just knew, after all he had done and given for me, He was disappointed, perhaps even angry with me. Then came the afternoon Jacob decided to take his first steps. He had pulled himself up using the couch and stood facing me grinning. I grinned back and encouraged him to "come to mommy" and he did. I, of course, was so excited! I laughed and hugged and kissed him, and he laughed. And we were soon doing it again. It suddenly occurred to me that I had gravely mistaken God's view of my life. He clearly tells me that I am his child; he clearly tells me "as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts." (Romans 8:16-17, Isaiah 55:9) He clearly tells me that He is the perfect embodiment of love. If, in my love for my son, my only thought at his attempts to walk were joy, excitement, and a determination to offer him all he needed to succeed, why on earth did I credit God with such a different response to my imperfect steps? I couldn't imagine anything more painful than to have had my treasured child respond to this wonderful milestone in his development by turning away from me in shame and self criticism. This marvelous mortal opportunity was provided expressly to give us the opportunity to choose to walk like our father. And just as gravity made it possible for Jacob to learn to walk, Heavenly Father provided the opposing forces necessary for us to learn to walk like Him. What would happen, I wondered, if I changed my thoughts to a certainty that the Lord was cheering me on in my feeble attempts. That his arm was truly there for the purpose of helping me gain confidence in my steps. That he understood, far more than me, what a gradual process it was. And, like I did with my son, he treasured the joy of helping me through that process.
Oh, to capture and keep the peace and joy of moment. My former habits had not been to see the Lord in this way, and so my first attempts to live life with that perspective were very unsure. But, I felt the Lord’s support in other “personal parables. ” For instance, a few years later, a baby robin, just learning to fly, got into our garage. My husband had been working on his dirt bike, changing the oil and had left a small bucket of oil out uncovered. I heard a horrible squawking out in the garage and discovered the baby had fallen into the oil and the mother and father were frantically swooping around the bucket. I scooped the baby out of the oil and ran into the kitchen, and very grateful for Discovery TV, and its special on oil spill cleanups off the Alaskan coast; used a bit of dish washing soap to try and save the bird. After I cleaned up what I could, I set him outside hoping his parents would reclaim him. They did, and his father, a robin with a very distinctive large tuff of feathers on his head, literally chased me back into the house. I know that the baby bird survived, because, unlike his nest mates, he never left his parents. I saw him next only a few days later. He was struggling to fly straight. I drew closer to make sure he was "my" bird and his parents closed in squawking and diving around my head. It was obviously not with gratitude they remembered me! No, from their perspective I was obviously not a loving friend who had tearfully worked and prayed to save their child's life. Rather, they felt I was an awful fiend who had caused them great grief and they used considerable wasted energy striving to make sure I would not harm their family again.
I saw the trio from time to time when I went on walks in my neighborhood. I always knew when we met up because the protective father, with his very distinctive tuff, would swoop down on me, trying to drive me away from their current position. I in turn, felt a great deal of affection for this beautiful family whose lives had crossed with mine, and so, as to not cause them any further distress I tried to keep my distance. I couldn't help but reflect on how large the gap was between what the real thoughts and intents of my heart were, and what they perceived them to be. And suddenly this very everyday occurrence became another personal parable which illustrated what the Lord tried to tell the people of Judah, "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (Jeremiah 29:11)
What really hit home was that I had read that scripture, which had been in Jeremiah my whole life, including one round of teaching the Old Testament in early morning seminary, but never really noticed it until I read it quoted in a fiction book one day after a walk- and a robin dive bombing. I thought about the times I had been so busy "dive bombing" the Lord for things I did not like in my life. I thought about the fact, that like the birds with me, I could not both "dive bomb" and welcome the Lord's loving presence. And I recalled, and felt again, the wonder of the day my son learned to walk. Yes, all things do testify of him- even things as small and ordinary as a bird or a baby.
What really hit home was that I had read that scripture, which had been in Jeremiah my whole life, including one round of teaching the Old Testament in early morning seminary, but never really noticed it until I read it quoted in a fiction book one day after a walk- and a robin dive bombing. I thought about the times I had been so busy "dive bombing" the Lord for things I did not like in my life. I thought about the fact, that like the birds with me, I could not both "dive bomb" and welcome the Lord's loving presence. And I recalled, and felt again, the wonder of the day my son learned to walk. Yes, all things do testify of him- even things as small and ordinary as a bird or a baby.
Our minds are running in parallel paths. This resonates with much of what I'm thinking and learning of late.
ReplyDelete