People all around us are... Burned Out

Last week, we went to Oregon for a family reunion/summer vacation. We flew into Medford and drove down to California to see the Redwoods and the beach, and spend the night before joining the other four siblings of my hubby and their kiddos. 

It wasn't my first time seeing the Redwoods. It wasn't even my second or third. And yet, I was struck by the majesty of the place. The strength and beauty of the trees was almost unbelievable. I stopped by one tree and took this shot, marveling at how tall and strong and unattainably beautiful it was. It was one of the largest we saw in this section of our hike, and smaller redwoods surrounded it. My kids and I paused and admired it. 

Imagine our surprise when we walked around the corner and discovered that it had been the victim of a fire. This image doesn't show it very well, but the inside of the tree had been burned out. in fact, I'd say almost 40% of the inside of this tree was entirely gone. 

I'm not an arborist. I know nothing about trees, but that thing was still alive. The burn had happened long enough past that more wildlife had begun to cling to the insides of the tree.

And it was still going-green healthy branches abounded on the front of it. From one side, that tree looked like the strongest, healthiest one in the bunch. 

After we reached the car, I couldn't seem to stop thinking about that tree. In this day and age of social media especially, but honestly ANY TIME, and ANYWHERE, people put on their best faces. They dress up and make-up and talk themselves up. They look strong and beautiful and healthy and ready to put the other people around them to shame. And in part, that's true. I'm surrounded by beautiful, hard working, kind, generous, smart, talented people. 

How many of us are burned out? And by what secret things? Demons from our pasts, baggage, mistakes, abuse? All of these things can leave people hollowed out inside. It has to be harder for that burned tree to keep making healthy branches, to stay upright in winds and rain. And yet, an outsider from the right perspective can't see that struggle. 

Your friends, your family, they may struggle with illness you don't see. It could be carefully concealed so it doesn't define them, or it could be an injury or illness that isn't visible because it's a mental illness. It could come and go. They could be dealing with siblings or parents or loved ones who are ill, or draining. They could have a child who's struggling. They could be dealing with failure to meet their own lofty goals. 

Or maybe things are just going wrong for them a lot. 

So often, there's a tendency to look at others and say, "My life is better because of x, y, and z." Or to look and say, "I could handle these things and my life was harder. Why can't they?" 

But no one's life is the same. No one's burdens are the same. Christ offered to carry everyone's burdens. It didn't matter to him if the people he aided were (perhaps) physically stronger (although I realize that might not be biologically possible, but you see my meaning), if they were richer, or if they had a better or easier childhood. He doesn't fault any of us for needing His help, even though we weren't asked to carry our crosses alone after living a perfect life. He doesn't hold any of us to His standard. He loves us where we are, how we are, exactly as we are. 

We all need to do a little better at judging less, not lashing out in anger or frustration, and being patient with the shortcomings of those around us. Even those who look strong, steady, shiny, sparkly or impressive. Because those very loved ones may be burned out, and it may be up to us to keep them going, to keep them turned toward the sunlight. When we send barbed words or messages, it chips away at their strength instead of bolstering it. 

My wish today is that we may all remember that we can't always see things from all sides. Have kindness, have patience, and have forgiveness in your heart. I know sometimes I'm burned out and need some grace, and I'm sure many of you do too. Let's offer that grace and a kind word whenever and however we can. 

The Devil Went Down to Georgia

My two year old son and I love to dance in the mornings. He'll take my hand and drag me into my own bedroom (that's where we dance for some reason) and he will point at my phone and say "dance." The other day, the song that came on was The Devil Went Down to Georgia. 

I really enjoy that song. It's catchy, and fast and has a great tune. But this time, the words made me think. In case you've never heard it, it goes something like this. "The Devil went down to Georgia, looking for a soul to steal. He was in a bind, he was way behind, he was looking to make a deal." He then finds a fiddle player, and offers that player a solid gold fiddle, if he can defeat the Devil by playing better than him.

So, confident in his skills, and cognizant of the fact that he might be sinning by taking such rash action, Johnny decides to take the Devil on. He competes and... he wins! He gets the shiny fiddle made of gold, AND he gets to keep his soul. The Devil lost.

Wow, what an exhilarating ride! He was able to defeat the Devil himself. How many of us would love to defeat the Devil and his demons? How many of us would like to win a fiddle of gold for five minutes work? It's attractive. The sin, of course, was Johnny's pride. He felt he could outsmart the Devil, and in the song, it works out. I'm going to come back to this, never fear. But I think there's another major mistake here I want you to think about. Johnny felt confident in his abilities, too confident, and that's pride. But he also overvalued that fiddle made of gold. To him, some "precious" metal was worth the possible cost. He offset his SOUL with a lump of gold. I think this may not be a sin, but it's certainly a major mistake. Think on that for a moment.

My younger girls fight and squabble incessantly. When I drill down to the start of the fight, it's nearly always "Tessa told me I couldn't fly." Or, "Emmy said I'm not the queen, and she is instead." They allow the other person to limit their lives and then they cry and scream about it. I always try and explain the same thing. They're allowing that other person to be their boss, they're letting that person limit their joy and ruin their day. If someone tells me, "Bridget you aren't good enough, you aren't pretty enough, you aren't kind enough," I don't let them decide that.

They aren't my boss.

Now, in the song's story above, Johnny is the only one who has the power to give up his soul. When the Devil comes down, he willingly offers up his soul in exchange for a lump of shaped metal.

He lets the Devil be his boss.

I've had dozens of friends and family in the past decade decide to leave the church. Every single one of them (save one) has stopped believing in GOD. That's right, they didn't just say, "This isn't the faith for me." They said, "I have no faith."

I believe they have been willing to set their souls on the shelf. They are willing to forgo their faith in God, and thereby the support and strength that comes from my Savior, and from the Holy Ghost. So I'm sad not to see the local friends at church anymore, but I am also sad for them, because I think they are willing to trade their souls.

I understand that to them, this might seem offensive, like I'm judging them.

I want to say to those friends if they read this, with as much feeling as I possibly can, I am not trying to judge any of you at all. Not in the slightest. You no longer believe in the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, and that's your decision to make. I'm not saying you belong to the Devil, but if I said that, it shouldn't bother you--because you think it's all nonsense! But I do believe you've surrendered your efforts to polish up your soul for God. (If you still believe in God and are worshipping in your own way, then clearly none of this applies to you!)

But when you tell me that I should read the books you read that led you down the path you took, please understand that it's offensive to me. When you compare me to an ostrich with my head in the sand, please try to comprehend that I do not see it that way at all.

I am a daughter of God. I believe this to my bones. I have a soul that I am trying to consecrate to God. In doing so, I hope to become like my Heavenly Father. That means I am trying to learn to communicate as he communicates, through the Holy Ghost and His messages and inspiration. That is as valid a method of evidence to me as your books and essays are for you. If you act like I'm ignorant, or idiotic for not traveling the path you've travelled, that's offensive to ME.

I don't like to be at odds with my friends and family. Quite the contrary. I'm not writing this message for you, though. I'm writing it for members of the church, like me, who may be pressured to dive into the messages or books or teachings that try to tear down the church.

To that allegation, that I am sticking my head in the sand? That I am ignoring the "evidence," I say this. I will not pledge my soul against the Devil's gold fiddle. He will never be the boss of me. Never. Of course the Great Deceiver could inspire a book that would trick and confuse me. I do not have the pride that Johnny had in my own intellect, that I believe that I can outplay (or outwit) a Son of the Morning. I would lose my soul in the process. And of course that's the Devil's hope, and it has been all along.

When the Devil comes knocking on my door, offering me a fiddle of gold, I tell him I have a boss, and it's Jesus Christ, the risen Lord. I tell him I believe I am a daughter of God and I don't need a golden fiddle. I know the church was restored. I know Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I know the Prophet is a good man who leads our church. I won't be dissuaded by a bunch of lies concocted by the Great Deceiver, not when the divine spark of God, the Holy Ghost, already testifies to me that God loves me, that He lives and that I can become as he is one day if I remain faithful.

God is my boss, no one else. I hope my children will believe the same.

#MineToo

With the coming of Father's Day, I've been thinking a lot about what exactly my husband brings to my home, to our family and to the beauty of our lives. I've been thinking more about the sacrifices he makes, his dedication to myself and our five
kids, and the example he sets.

My husband was the single largest blessing of my entire life, and I thank God for him every single day.

I have been richly blessed. I have a wonderful set of parents, including a rock star dad. I had a fantastic example to look to when I was growing up. I have two amazing brothers and my sister married a wonderful man.

Now that I'm married to Whitney, I have some great brother-in-laws, too.

A few months ago, when #metoo swept the nation, I couldn't quite put my finger on what bothered me about it. I appreciated the way it showcased the magnitude of the problem to those unaware. I loved that women felt safe enough, and empowered enough to speak up. I had hope that in today's world, maybe the problems of assault, of harassment, and of fear for women might be someday eradicated, or at least mitigated and far, far less common. I really hope we all emerge better educated, and better armed to handle this type of thing. I felt optimistic that the world might really be changing.

And yet, it took me weeks to actually post #metoo for myself. Why did it take me so long? I'm not afraid to say it. I've talked to countless people about my experiences over the years. After much internal struggle, I was finally able to pinpoint the why. It was because I felt like right along with the positive sweeping changes, and awareness, #metoo also increased the suspicion, and the nervous fear of the men in my life. Men who are the most amazing, supportive, incredible people I have ever known.

My two sons are beautiful and fresh and new. They are learning how to treat women from me, from their dad, and from society. I hope they will learn, more and more, about how women are their equals, and even their superiors in many ways. I hope they will learn to love and respect women, all women, of all ages, and from all parts of life.

I have faith they will do all those things, because they have men around them who do all of that and more. They are surrounded by GOOD men, men who care, men who work day in and day out to make the world a better place for every single woman living here.

So today, while I do not mean IN ANY WAY to detract from #metoo, the power, the purpose, the movement, I would also like to say #minetoo. Because my men, the men in my life, have lifted me up. They have provided support, care, a sounding board. They have helped heal me from my #metoo experiences. They been nearly super human in their efforts to make this world a better place. Today I am thankful for my husband, my father, my brothers, my brother-in-laws, my neighbors, my friends. I am grateful for my sons, and for the amazing role models who surround them, showing them how to make sure no more women have to say #metoo, ever. I do not want to detract from the powerful message we have all seen, but I would like to add to it. There are awful things out there, and men who have done bad, bad things. There are men today who still do, but there are good men, too. Positive, life changing, strong and caring men. They deserve a seat in this dialogue. They deserve to be highlighted.

If you have husbands, family, or friends who are making the world a safer place, I hope today of all days, and for days to come, you will honor them. Show them by posting #minetoo, that your world is full of beautiful, strong, caring, thoughtful men who care for women, love God and serve all people. Fill the world with hashtags that let them know we love them and welcome them into our lives, our homes and our worldview. Because Men are Good and Beautiful and Strong, too.

How Can I Possibly Help?

I was recently called into the Primary Presidency. This is new for me, and I am not very good at anything yet, but I am learning. One thing I did this week was go through the Sharing Time manual for 2018 and look at the monthly themes, which all have an affiliated scripture.

It occurred to me that God seems to send me a theme each week, if I keep my eyes and ears open to look for it. This week definitely has a theme to it. I thought I'd share the gist of God's message to me this week with my five readers. (Yes, I am up from three!!)

I was reading in Alma 57... one of the dreaded war chapters. In those long chapters, the Lamanites keep attacking and the Nephites sort of succeed or get pushed around, depending largely on their righteousness. In Chapter 57, the Nephites are in bad shape. The Lamanites have them dramatically outnumbered (as usual) and the Nephite army is about to lose.

But, a small force of converted Lamanite boys hold the line. Literally. Those young, relatively inexperienced soldiers will not give up. Verse 20 says: And as the remainder of our army were about to give way before the Lamanites, behold, those two thousand and sixty were firm and undaunted. 21. Yea, and they did obey and observe to perform every word of command with exactness; yea and even according to their faith it was done unto them; and I did remember the words which they said unto me that their mothers had taught them.

Wow, what a spiritual punch is buried there in a war chapter! The whole army of experienced men were ready to give up, but these young men buoyed up the entire force.

I thought about that, and a long ago event occurred to me. In 1995, I was a sophomore in high school. I had an acquaintance from school participating in a "Battle of the Bands" at some venue. After begging and begging and begging my mom agreed to let me go with a new friend, Jennifer. We were in Biology together. I didn't know her very well, but she seemed quite nice. I am quite sure I never shared this with my mom, who did not really want to let me go anyway. About 2/3 of the way through this event, we walked outside to chat with some people out there. Some kids were standing in a circle, and one of them held his hand out. He offered us some pot.

I didn't hesitate. I didn't hem or haw. My mom had taught me. Drugs were wrong. I shook my head and said, "I don't do drugs because they're bad for you. But also, God has told us not to. You shouldn't be smoking that crap at all." (If I sounded preachy, well, I am sure I did. I was nearly insufferable as a kid.) Jennifer and I turned and walked away.

After we reached the school again, Jennifer turned back. Two other kids had walked away from the circle, too. She said to me, "Wow, I believe in God and I believe drugs are bad, but I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there to tell them no. "

Three other kids passed on trying drugs that night because I had the bravery to say no, loudly, and clearly.

Satan's favorite lie is to convince people that they aren't good enough, and that they can't make a difference. He wants you to believe you are worthless. Useless. Because then you act like someone with no value. I don't know what you have going on in your lives right now. I don't know what struggles exist for you. I don't know what difficulty is pulling at you, threatening to drag you down into captivity, just like those brave sons, but I promise each and every one of you reading this that Satan's favorite lie is not true.

You are a son or a daughter of a God. He loves you. He created you. He wants you to be the one who makes the difference. You are strong enough and brave enough to change things, to improve the lives of those around you. Stand up. Hold the line. You are enough. And one little person can make a tremendous impact on the lives of those around them.

Bonus for you moms out there. You can make a difference, yes, but when you're discouraged about the dishes, the laundry and the general whining in your home, think about the profound difference your children will make... because their mothers taught them. You are doing God's work with every wiped nose, every scattered and frustrating scripture study and family prayer. You are teaching tiny people who will go out and save those around them. People who will light the world.

My message this week to all of you is that You Are Enough. You can do it. I know it, God knows it, and now you know it, too. I would LOVE to hear in the comments any examples you can think of when YOU made a difference (or someone in your family!). Please share!

1-800-DIAL-GOD

Last night, my six year old daughter expressed to me that she was having a crisis of faith.

She had been praying, "for years" and none of her prayers had ever been answered. I took her concern seriously, sat down and talked to her about the details. As I gained more information, it began to make sense. You see, Emmy had been praying for the following things: 1) that her mother would become a Queen, so she would be made a Princess; 2) jewels (and she wasn't unreasonable. She'd take any kind or size of jewels); 3) a pony (again, reasonable. Wings and a magical horn was preferred, but without was also fine); and when all of that was ignored, she asked for 4) that God would make her never, ever get angry. She was most indignant about the last one. Apparently, the very day after she prayed for that one simple thing, she got very mad at a little boy on the playground who stole her swing.

You see, Emmy did not quite understand the nature of prayer. I took the time to detail a beloved prophet's journey through the confusing nature of prayer.

I love the book of first Nephi. Nephi writes unabashedly of his struggles with his brothers, and sometimes even with nature in that book. At one point, he is upset with his brothers and they tie him up. He prays to have the strength to burst the bonds so he can show his brothers God's power. In response, the bonds are merely loosened. He must rely on his words and the Spirit to reason with his brothers. It wasn't as flashy, but it worked.

Another time, Nephi is in a dream and he's in the dark. It's very black, scary, and unrelenting. He prays (even in his dreams he's righteous!) that the Lord will grant him mercy, and he is brought back into the light, but in a big open field. God continues to teach him through this dream. He may have wanted the lesson to be over, but it wasn't. You can tell he's learning here, because all he asked for was mercy that time.

I think all of us have a natural tendency to ask for things to be given to us, or miraculous acts to magically solve our problems. Nephi's own brothers asked many times to have God do things, or show His power. One of my favorite parts in the Disney movie, The Incredibles is when a small boy on a tricycle has seen Mr. Incredible smash his car. The boy is sitting on the sidewalk later and Mr. Incredible says something like, "What are you looking at?" The boy replies along the lines of, "I want to see something amazing, I guess." We are all like that young child, and we too want to see something AMAZING. I understand that desire. It's not only that it would be fun, but it would also be so much easier than the alternative.

Nephi and his family travel for many long months at God's direction, abandoning their home, their riches and all their friends and family. God has promised them an amazing land of plenty for their obedience. Imagine Nephi's disappointment when God tells him that first he must cross a vast ocean! At that point, I'd be begging for one thing: give me a cruise ship please, complete with servants, food at the ready, and entertainment. After all, I've got young children and my wife gave birth in the forest. Please provide. I have had and exercised my faith enough already.

God doesn't work that way. Prayer doesn't work that way. God tells Nephi that he will show him where to find ore that he can smelt down and make some tools. After making tools (which Nephi's family is understandably not too keen on), God tells Nephi how to build a boat. Guys, I can barely handle the pinewood derby. I would never ever ever put my family on a boat I was in charge of building. We would drown before we left the sandy shores.

Why does God ask us to do this hard stuff? Why? It's so HARD! Emmy has been praying so faithfully to become a princess. To get jewels. To have a unicorn/pegasus, or even a regular pony. She would settle for God just changing the simple nature of who she is to make her a little bit closer to perfect.

But God doesn't do those things for us, nor should He.

I've been studying Latvian lately, because we are Hosting two girls from Latvia (and we hope we will be adopting them soon). I want to understand how to speak to them in their native tongue. I already speak some Spanish, so I thought it would be easy.

It is not easy.

Many concepts we have in English, and even in Spanish, are lacking in Latvian. They conjugate nouns, guys, and adverbs. It's hard. Sometimes even Google translate has no idea what to do with what I'm trying to say. Similarly, prayer can be a little tricky, because we have to learn how to speak God's language. As we learn His language, we understand Him. We become like Him. He is teaching us with prayer. It is less of a tool, and more of a lesson, or homework if you will.

We want to say, "Please give me ____." We want that item or blessing to be delivered tomorrow, to our front door, with a pink bow. We're somewhat reasonable. A yellow bow would be fine. If it gets delayed, tomorrow afternoon might work.

Except God isn't Amazon. God wants to do something more than get a good review and have happy customers.

God has amazing plans in store for us. He wants to turn us into something phenomenal. He wants us to become ship builders, and orators, and forgiving people who are not full of rage. He wants to transform us. Giving you a gift does not transform you. Handing you something does not teach you. You have no idea what miraculous blessings are waiting for you, if you will take the time to learn how to pray, and then make the effort to learn how to listen.

When I was in college, my parents paid for a 1-800 number so that their kids, who had begun to spread out, could call them anytime. If you're young, you will not understand this. All calls are free right? And six year olds have cell phones. Except then, calls weren't free and cell phones were rare (and huge). "Data" was a guy on a movie called Star Trek. It was hard sometimes to reach someone. There were things called P-A-Y P-H-O-N-E-S, and you had to insert actual quarters to talk. Prepare yourself for this one. It will be confusing: there was no texting.

In light of all that wackiness, I can't express to you what a balm it was to my heart to know that, even with my parents a thousand miles away, I could call them from anywhere. If my car died, I could call. If I was locked out of my room, I could call them. If I got stood up for a date, I could call them. No matter the issue, I could call them for free, and they would be there, even if it was only to give advice.

Your Heavenly Father is and always has been a free call. But, I think sometimes we forget that we can't just ask for something. We should instead tell Heavenly Father our problem and ask him to help us, but let Him determine how that help will come. I tried to tell God once that I was supposed to marry this guy I'd found. He was good looking, funny, and smart. I thought he'd be just fine. God simply needed to get this guy on the same page, and bam. I'd be happy!

I had no idea God had Whitney in mind for me--someone infinitely better than the dope I kinda liked.

Back in the olden days of the 1-800 numbers, it was never enough for me to simply will my parents to know I was in trouble, either. I had to find a phone, dial the number, and wait for them to pick up. Faith requires work.

I know the holidays can be hard. Life can be hard, and it frequently is. Don't just drop to your knees and pray that God will fix your problems. Instead, find that phone, dial the number and listen to His answer. Drop to your knees and tell God your problem, then take steps to line up help. If you're lonely, go to a church activity or call a friend. If you're hungry, walk into the kitchen, and look around. If you need a job, look for job listings and apply. Take the basic steps that will allow God to bless you more easily. And when the opportunity comes, be ready to build that boat. You have no idea what you may learn along the way, but I promise you, it will be glorious, and your Heavenly Father has been dying to teach you and transform you into this magnificent creature all along.

Happy Birthday Emerald

Dearest Princess Emerald!
Good morning! happy birthday.

Im at work, so this may be brief. I remember when you were born. We were living in Oregon. We had two other crazy little kids running around, I was employed for the Three Rivers Community Hospital in Grants Pass. It was a really pretty town, your mom and I were trying to figure what we should call you. I think many names got tossed around. But, Oregon was very Green, It was a fresh start for us, and May birth stone was Emerald, We thought that Emerald Dawn sounded like a fresh beginning, Symbolic of hope for the future.

I remember taking your mom into the hospital. We knew what day you would be born because Dora and Eli were HUGE and born late, The OB let us Induce you on 5/31, If I remember right we started the induction in morning and by afternoon you were born. Dr Cobb was the Obstetrician but he let me deliver you.

I was the first person to see your Head, I got to hold you for the first time, I gave you your first bath, changed your first diapers, You were pink and perfect. We knew we had something special with you.

I don't think we stayed in more than a day after you were born, I came to pick you up in my Mini Cooper Convertible, and we took you and your mom home.

You are such a joy, thanks for coming to our family...

Love you Emmy

Edited to add: I think this was written by Whit and posted to this blog by accident... This is Bridget. I didn't write this one. Hahah!

An Open Letter to Mormons Who Have Walked Away

Dear family, friends and loved ones:

Usually my posts are on topics that are generally applicable to all faiths. Not today. Today I want to begin by saying, I really hope that no one takes offense to this, but I am afraid that no matter what I say on this touchy subject, someone will. That's the reason I've put it off for so long.

I've been wrestling with this issue for years and years, and never posted about it directly.  About six years ago when I moved back to Texas, I found out a dear friend I'd known since high school and her husband, who had been married in a Mormon temple, had left the church. I'm a pretty up front person, so I just asked her why. She explained she left because Sundays were hard. Church is long (three hours) and with meetings and other service, they became longer. For someone with a family and small children and a work week, it was a better fit for them to spend Sunday relaxing, hanging with friends, or out on a boat.

That's how it started for her.

The thing is, all it takes is one little crack.  One little excuse and BAM you start the downward slide into inactivity, because guess what? Anything that is worth anything is HARD.  Sunday is a day of rest, sure, but God's rest is not my rest. God's rest is peace unto your soul and you don't get that on a boat or lounging with a beer. You just don't. And being out with friends, or staying home, or getting a root canal, all of that is just easier than going to church. I have five children, so believe me when I say that I kind of hate going to church. My kids whine and complain. Getting them dressed is a chore. Getting myself ready feels like torture with a baby on one leg. Packing the bag takes forever and I always forget the exact thing I need in the middle of sacrament meeting.

I would rather be sitting on a boat.

Actually, I'd rather be sitting anywhere else, as long as I'm wearing flip flops instead of high heels and my kids have iPads.

Miserable Sundays was the reason my friend stopped at first. You, my reader, could have stopped coming for any reason at all. The bigger issue is... why should you come back? There are so many reasons. In fact, you could read through all my blog posts and see some of the reasons I have for coming. The Spirit fills me with joy, the messages bring peace to my soul, and the people uplift me. My main reason is that Jesus Christ is my Savior and He lives. I worship because it enriches my life. The focus of this blog, however, is on those people who have walked away who may be wondering whether there is a place for them if they want to return.

The danger in writing this post is that my friends and family will think my message is: I know better than you; you are wrong, so listen to me. 

That's actually the opposite of what I'm trying to say. I can't change your mind. The Holy Ghost can't change your mind. We are all here on Earth because God wanted us to have agency, the right to make our own decisions and live our own lives. That very principle dictates that you get to decide what to do for yourself. If that's staying home on Sundays, I'll try not to badger you about it (too much.)

What the heck am I trying to say then? Like always, I'll try and make my point with a little anecdote.

A few years ago, a tree in the front of our neighborhood was struck by lighting. It was a great tree, absolutely enormous, staggeringly large, and utterly beautiful. The lightning struck at an angle and the tree was sheared off about 20 feet from the ground, completely removing the entire canopy of branches. All that remained was a badly damaged trunk.  The neighborhood spent a lot of time debating the details of how to dispose of it. Cut it down? Drag the trunk to the lake? Cut it up and have it hauled away? As time passed and no decision had been made, someone noticed something.  A very small branch was growing from the side of that tree. Three tiny leaves.

That sparked a new discussion.  Could it still be alive? What should we do about that? An expert was consulted. There was no way that growth could ever look quite right. The tree, after all, had been sliced at an angle. Any regrowth, unlikely in any event to be from the actual tree, would look terrible. The expert said it was dead and any offshoots would not amount to anything. If they did grow in any real numbers, they would be an eyesore. We needed to remove it.

We didn't remove it. We left it alone. At first, the expert was right. It was an eyesore, a lump. For a year, nothing else grew. We worried it was rotting. It might fall over and block the road again. Rats might move in. Ultimately though, we left it alone. It rained. The sun shone. Time passed.

That expert was wrong. Science does not have all the answers, because science is man's best guess.

Man's best guess is frequently wrong.

I don't have all the answers. I have some answers, but I don't know your whole story and I don't know what's right for you. I do know you have walked away from the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. I don't know why. You may not even fully understand. But for those of you who have walked away, my message has two parts. Part one is: You can choose to turn your back on God for any reason at all. You may have left the church, asked them not to contact you or even been excommunicated. You may think you can't come back. You may think you're too far gone. You may think the light of Christ is dead in you. The first part of my message is this: You can turn away from God, and you may have done so. But He never turns away from you. He is standing right by you, arms outstretched ready and waiting for you to change your mind. I am right beside him. I will welcome you back with open arms at any time, any moment, any second. Right now, even.

The second part of my message is for those of you who read my words and feel a stirring in your heart. If any part of you has considered returning, but you're hung up on something please read on. Maybe you worry that Joseph Smith was imperfect. (He was. God used him in spite of that, just as He uses me in spite of my many flaws.) Maybe you feel you've done too many things you're ashamed of. (I don't care what those are.) Maybe you feel you won't fit in. (I don't feel like I fit in.) Maybe you have people you'd like to avoid at church. (I have people I try to avoid because we have quarreled.) If any of these applies, please read on.

The second part of my message has to do with that tree.  That eyesore of a dead stump. The lightning was powerful and strong and did significant damage. It scarred that tree badly. That tree may have even had its name removed from the records of the church. It died, spiritually speaking. It might have even done some naughty things, parts of it began to rot.

But the rain fell and the sun shone and the earth provided nutrients and just maybe that tree decided to try again. None of the people in our neighborhood took steps to cut it down.

Here is that tree now.

It is alive. It is beautiful. It is healthy and strong. It is growing its own way, but it is providing shade and oxygen to the world around it. It is fulfilling its purpose here. I would venture to say it's happy.

My second message is this: You have no idea what God has in store for you, but I promise that if you come back, you too will thrive.  No one else can see the beauty that is waiting inside of you, but it's there. You are never so far gone God doesn't want you back. Please, please, please come back. Now, next year, or in twenty years. God is waiting to make something even more beautiful from your life. He loves you and so do I. Neither of us will ever give up, because something amazing is waiting if only you'll give it another chance.

Bridget