Angelic

Yesterday I entertained angels in my home. They weren't strangers; they were well known friends. Just like angels, they came to lift and strengthen me. Just like angels, they came by assignment from God, and just like angels when they left I felt a little lighter.


Our visit was common enough. We talked of canning and drying fruit, busy schedules and children. Yet, these were the very things I was struggling with and needed to hash out with kind and experienced friends. I had read the message they gave me, but their insights helped me see things I'd missed. I was left with profound, uplifting thoughts to ponder.


As I thought of my visit with them I was reminded of the words of Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, “But when we speak of those who are instruments in the hand of God, we are reminded that not all angels are from the other side of the veil. Some of them we walk with and talk with—here, now, every day. Indeed heaven never seems closer than when we see the love of God manifested in the kindness and devotion of people so good and so pure that angelic is the only word that comes to mind.”


I'm sure when my visiting teachers knocked at my door they weren't thinking about being instruments in the hand of God. They weren't thinking about being angelic. But they are women of devotion who are “so good and so pure that angelic is the only word that comes to mind.”

There Are Good Things to Come

“Mom!” cried Emma, “Look a robin!” There it was sitting on the wall, a fat, red-breasted robin. The first robin of spring has always been cause for celebration around here. For years in Teton Valley, where winter stays on and on, we looked for the coming of robins to signal that spring was finally on its way.

The robins there often arrived before the snow was gone. They seemed courageous and a little daring to show up before winter had loosed its icy grip on the valley. Last spring I opened the curtains to see the world covered in white once more and there in the tree was a flock of robins. Their feathers were fluffed against the cold, but I didn't see any indication that they were headed back south. They were there to stay.

I've thought recently of the storms, expected and unexpected, that come into our lives. Sometimes I feel like a robin caught in a late snowstorm. I intended for there to be warmth, light and the abundance of spring, but instead I am buffeted and buried. Yet, at the same time there is an inner strength, like the robins. I’m not headed south. I’m not staying in bed. I’m not hiding from sorrow, pain and fear. I’m getting up each day, fluffing my feathers and hanging out in my tree. Like the robin, I've seen enough comings and goings of storms to know that they pass; spring does come.

This morning I read what Paul had to say about storms, “We glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; and patience experience; and experience, hope.” I don’t think I’m to the point of glorying in tribulation, but I do recognize how it works patience and gives me experience. It’s that experience that brings me hope that things will get better.

You see, I’m a believer in the one Paul called, "an high priest of good things to come.” That is where my ultimate hope comes into play. I am certain that my life is in His hands. These experiences, working patience in me, brings me closer to His good things. I love how Elder Jeffrey R. Holland put it. He said, “Some blessings come soon, some come late, and some don’t come until heaven; but for those who embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ, they come.”

So, I’ll wait. I see the signs, there are crocuses, daffodils and something sweet in the air, but I’m not just talking about spring. There are good things to come.