The Moon Last Night

Self Control

“The greatest battles of life are fought within the silent chambers of our own souls.” This is the battle for self-control, and there is nothing more majestic than the quiet confidence of one who has achieved it.
-Allen Bergin quoting David O. McKay.

 I cannot wait until the day when I have achieved complete self control. Control over food, control over anger when my children frustrate me, control over feeling despair when things don't work out, and much more.

Owen's Third birthday Party!

 My Gift to Owen (photo taken by me, as well).

 After the party, all the men went to the Priesthood Session of General Conference.

 

 Happy Birthday Owen! We Love You!

New bridge by our house

 There's a photo contest coming up in our city. One of the categories is Folsom bridges. I'm working on entering the contest, and any others I can find!

General Conference

Last week at church our bishop made a promise to the congregation. He said that if we had a question we desired to be answered, and if we would prepare to watch General Conference this weekend, our question would be answered.

Well, if you've read my blog, I have LOTS of questions about law school and why things have turned out the way they have for us the last few years, despite our following what we thought was the correct path. So I prayed all week that I would in fact find some answers and peace while watching Conference this weekend.

In the afternoon session today, Sunday, I wept as Elder D. Todd Christofferson spoke.

He recounted a story that Elder Hugh B. Brown shared in a talk almost 40 years ago. Here is the story that he calls "The Currant Bush."

"You sometimes wonder whether the Lord really knows what He ought to do with you. You sometimes wonder if you know better than He does about what you ought to do and ought to become. I am wondering if I may tell you a story. It has to do with an incident in my life when God showed me that He knew best.

I was living up in Canada. I had purchased a farm. It was run-down. I went out one morning and saw a currant bush. It had grown up over six feet high. It was going all to wood. There were no blossoms and no currants. I was raised on a fruit farm in Salt Lake before we went to Canada, and I knew what ought to happen to that currant bush. So I got some pruning shears and clipped it back until there was nothing left but stumps. I thought I saw on top of each of these little stumps what appeared to be a tear, and I thought the currant bush was crying. I thought I heard that currant bush say this:

“How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth. I was almost as big as the shade tree and the fruit tree that are inside the fence, and now you have cut me down. Every plant in the garden will look down on me because I didn’t make what I should have made. How could you do this to me? I thought you were the gardener here.”

I said, “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. Thank you, Mr. Gardener.’ ”

Years passed, and I found myself in England. I was in command of a cavalry unit in the Canadian Army. I held the rank of field officer in the British Canadian Army. I was proud of my position. And there was an opportunity for me to become a general. I had taken all the examinations. I had the seniority. The one man between me and the office of general in the British Army became a casualty, and I received a telegram from London. It said: “Be in my office tomorrow morning at 10:00,” signed by General Turner.

I went up to London. I walked smartly into the office of the general, and I saluted him smartly, and he gave me the same kind of a salute a senior officer usually gives—a sort of “Get out of the way, worm!” He said, “Sit down, Brown.” Then he said, “I’m sorry I cannot make the appointment. You are entitled to it. You have passed all the examinations. You have the seniority. You’ve been a good officer, but I can’t make the appointment. You are to return to Canada and become a training officer and a transport officer.” That for which I had been hoping and praying for 10 years suddenly slipped out of my fingers.

Then he went into the other room to answer the telephone, and on his desk, I saw my personal history sheet. Right across the bottom of it was written, “THIS MAN IS A MORMON.” We were not very well liked in those days. When I saw that, I knew why I had not been appointed. He came back and said, “That’s all, Brown.” I saluted him again, but not quite as smartly, and went out.

I got on the train and started back to my town, 120 miles away, with a broken heart, with bitterness in my soul. And every click of the wheels on the rails seemed to say, “You are a failure.” When I got to my tent, I was so bitter that 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 my bitterness. While kneeling there I heard a song being sung in an adjoining tent. A number of Mormon boys met regularly every Tuesday night. I usually met with them. As I was kneeling there, praying for forgiveness, I heard their singing:

“But if, by a still, small voice he calls
To paths that I do not know,
I’ll answer, dear Lord, with my hand in thine:
I’ll go where you want me to go.”
(Hymns, no. 270)

I arose from my knees a humble man. And now, almost 50 years later [as an apostle], I look up to Him and say, “Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for cutting me down, for loving me enough to hurt me.”

Many of you are going to have very difficult experiences: disappointment, heartbreak, bereavement, defeat. You are going to be tested and tried. I just want you to know that if you don’t get what you think you ought to get, remember, God is the gardener here. He knows what He wants you to be. Submit yourselves to His will. Be worthy of His blessings, and you will get His blessings."

I am amazed at how I feel this was meant EXACTLY for me. And it comforts me to know that even an apostle had worked and prayed for something for YEARS and it didn't work out. And even he struggled with feeling upset with God. This makes me feel like just maybe I can have the strength to say, "Lord, you are the gardener here, so I will trust you, even when it hurts and it feels you've cut me down." And that someday I will thank Him.

I'm very grateful for an inspired Bishop and that his promise was fulfilled for me. 

My New Job

I've been wanting to get a job for a while now-- just something I can do for a few hours while the girls are in school. I kept searching and searching, but the only thing I could think of was working at the girls school as an aid or something. So I asked our front office lady, Mary, if they were in need of teachers aids or yard duties.

"Yes," she said, "We've actually been looking for someone to help with yard duty!"

Perfect! Friday was my first day. It was fun! I got hit by a couple balls (which the boys laughed really hard about) but I got to use a walkie talkie! And I'm going to get a whistle! Yee haw! At least Emma is still young enough to think I'm cool!