Then tonight, as I was preparing for tomorrow (hopefully I'll return to work), I opened up my OhLife email. It read:
Oh snap, remember this? One month ago you wrote...Of all the short little snippets I've written to OhLife, it was that one that showed up, the one that I needed tonight. It was the perfect reminder that even when the things I hope for are uncertain, the things that I hope in are not.
I had the best day today. I had the privilege of going to Time Out for Women in Plano with my mom and Denise last night and all day today. The messages were so inspiring. The theme was "infinite hope." I felt uplifted. It seemed like the underlying theme was that we each are doing well. We need to focus on our strengths to find happiness. Our Heavenly Father accepts our offerings even if they are not our "best." We are saved by grace after all WE (Jesus Christ + us) can do. That means the Savior does not make up the difference for us, but He makes ALL the difference. The last speaker talked about that. He gave a great analogy of a mother paying someone to teach her child piano and then in turn requiring her child to practice the piano. She doesn't ask the child to practice because it will pay the teacher or restore the money that was given to the teacher; she asks her to practice so that she will learn how to play the piano. He extended that to the Atonement. Our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ want us to be transformed to become like them; the commandments they have given us are for us to become like them. It's not about repaying a debt because we can never measure up to that. It's about the change, so that when we return to our Heavenly Home, we will be comfortable there in the presence of God. That gave me such great comfort to think about those truths.
Tall Grass, Growing
By Miriam W. Wright
I see the tall grass swaying in the breeze,
The slender stems supporting nature’s store of life,
Not useless stalks nor tares but headed grass
Which stands so firmly rooted in the soil.
A day comes to my mind (now of the past)
We stood together. You had faith and stood so tall
And I was doubting. “Weeds,” I said, “Just weeds.
Or like this place,” I scruffed the earth, “Just dirt.”
“Our home” you answered. “There will be tall grass,
And we can build together. We can plant the seeds.
The Universe is His and He gives life,
And we can truly give a servant’s care.”
I looked at you, “To work, and work and fail.”
Your hand made motion up, “Then plan and work again.
See the warm sun” (Your tones so promising).
Then reaching down, I pulled a clump of weeds.
You smiled, “Already you have marked
A place to start. Right here can be our cornerstone.”
You placed a smooth-shaped rock, as if ‘homebase,’
To outline substance that was yet to be.
I looked into your eyes. “Perhaps, some day,”
But I could see no home …
And now, I stand and see—
No time from then ‘till now, but there was time
For storms, for drought, for strength-consuming hours.
The plans and efforts seemed so giant-high,
Yet now, so vapor thin that they are far out-shown
By window lights of home, and well-worn paths,
The firm clasp of your hand, your smile, your love.
The harvest-ready field,
I see it now.
You saw this field, the day you spoke those words:
“Tall grass-growing.”
By Miriam W. Wright
I see the tall grass swaying in the breeze,
The slender stems supporting nature’s store of life,
Not useless stalks nor tares but headed grass
Which stands so firmly rooted in the soil.
A day comes to my mind (now of the past)
We stood together. You had faith and stood so tall
And I was doubting. “Weeds,” I said, “Just weeds.
Or like this place,” I scruffed the earth, “Just dirt.”
“Our home” you answered. “There will be tall grass,
And we can build together. We can plant the seeds.
The Universe is His and He gives life,
And we can truly give a servant’s care.”
I looked at you, “To work, and work and fail.”
Your hand made motion up, “Then plan and work again.
See the warm sun” (Your tones so promising).
Then reaching down, I pulled a clump of weeds.
You smiled, “Already you have marked
A place to start. Right here can be our cornerstone.”
You placed a smooth-shaped rock, as if ‘homebase,’
To outline substance that was yet to be.
I looked into your eyes. “Perhaps, some day,”
But I could see no home …
And now, I stand and see—
No time from then ‘till now, but there was time
For storms, for drought, for strength-consuming hours.
The plans and efforts seemed so giant-high,
Yet now, so vapor thin that they are far out-shown
By window lights of home, and well-worn paths,
The firm clasp of your hand, your smile, your love.
The harvest-ready field,
I see it now.
You saw this field, the day you spoke those words:
“Tall grass-growing.”
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