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Home Archive for August 2014

The Currant Bush

24 August 2014

When Jason and I were first married, we would go to the temple once a week. Due to our work and school schedule, it always seemed to be Saturday night that we would go. Occasionally we would drive down to Idaho Falls so that we could go to a late dinner after the temple session. It was something I looked forward to each week.

One week, as we were driving to Idaho Falls, Jason put in a CD. It was a talk by Hugh B. Brown and it was one I had never heard before. I can clearly remember exactly where we were when he put in the CD and I remember the deep voice of Elder Brown as he told the story of the currant bush. I remember feeling the spirit so strong in the car and we listened to that several times on our way to the temple. I fell in love with the story.

A few years ago, Elder D. Todd Christofferson retold Hugh B. Brown's story during General Conference and it even became a Mormon Message. When I heard him start to tell the story, my mind went back to that drive to the temple and I felt the Spirit as I remembered the experience of hearing the story for the first time. Oh, how I loved that story.


About a week ago I was laying in bed trying to go to sleep and was not having any success. Although I was exhausted and I knew I needed sleep, I had been having a really hard time sleeping. I couldn't shut my mind off and I was thinking about the events of the last few months and the changes it was going to bring to my little family for the rest of our lives - the rest of eternity. Suddenly I got angry and I started to cry. I laid there in my bed and cried angry tears, the same tears that came frequently, but this time I couldn't control them. I couldn't stop crying. I was angry that the selfish acts of another person could ruin so many good things. I was angry that my children and I had to suffer the consequences of someone else's choices and it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.


"How could you do this to me?"

Then, I suddenly remembered that talk from all those years ago and I distinctly heard the line in my head,
"I am the gardner here. I know what I want you to be."
The tears stopped and I closed my eyes, remembering the story in my mind. I fell asleep thinking about that currant bush.

I found a video with Hugh B. Brown's voice telling the story with the images from the Mormon Message. I don't know why I love the way he tells it so much, but I do. I also included the text from his original speech at the BYU commencement in 1968. It's a little long, but it is worth the read.

I know that someday I will look back on this and say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for cutting me down, for loving me enough to hurt me.’” Although I can't see it now, I know that the Lord will turn this into a positive thing for my life. So often we have an idea in our heads of how our life is supposed to turn out and what is best for us, but Heavenly Father knows who He needs us to be. I never pictured my life going in this direction, and I wouldn't have picked this path, but I will trust in Him to guide me down the path I need to be on.






"Sixty-odd years ago I was on a farm in Canada. I had purchased the farm from another who had been somewhat careless in keeping it up. I went out one morning and found a currant bush that was at least six feet high. I knew that it was going all to wood. There was no sign of blossom or of fruit. I had had some experience in pruning trees before we left Salt Lake to go to Canada, as my father had a fruit farm. So I got my pruning shears and went to work on that currant bush, and I clipped it and cut it and cut it down until there was nothing left but a little clump of stumps.

And as I looked at them, I yielded to an impulse, which I often have, to talk with inanimate things and have them talk to me. It’s a ridiculous habit. It’s one I can’t overcome. As I looked at this little clump of stumps, there seemed to be a tear on each one, and I said, “What’s the matter, currant bush? What are you crying about?”

And I thought I heard that currant bush speak. It seemed to say, “How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth. I was almost as large as the fruit tree and the shade tree, and now you have cut me down. And all in the garden will look upon me with contempt and pity. How could you do it? I thought you were the gardener here.”

I thought I heard that from the currant bush. I thought it so much that I answered it.
I said, “Look, little currant bush, I am the gardener here, and I know what I want you to be. If I let you go the way you want to go, you will never amount to anything. But someday, when you are laden with fruit, you are going to think back and say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for cutting me down, for loving me enough to hurt me.’”

Ten years passed, and I found myself in Europe. I had made some progress in the First World War in the Canadian army. In fact, I was a field officer, and there was only one man between me and the rank of general, which I had cherished in my heart for years. Then he became a casualty. And the day after, I received a telegram from London from General Turner, who was in charge of all Canadian officers. The telegram said, “Be in my office tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.”
I puffed up. I called my special servant. (We called them “batmen” over there.) I said, “Polish my boots and my buttons. Make me look like a general, because I am going up tomorrow to be appointed.”

He did the best he could with what he had to work on, and I went to London. I walked into the office of the general. I saluted him smartly, and he replied to my salute as higher officers usually do to juniors—sort of a “Get out of the way, worm.” Then he said, “Sit down, Brown.”

I was deflated. I sat down. And he said, “Brown, you are entitled to this promotion, but I cannot make it. You have qualified and passed the regulations, you have had the experience, and you are entitled to it in every way, but I cannot make this appointment.”

Just then he went into the other room to answer a phone call, and I did what most every officer and man in the army would do under those circumstances: I looked over on his desk to see what my personal history sheet showed. And I saw written on the bottom of that history sheet in large capital letters: “THIS MAN IS A MORMON.”

Now at that time we were hated heartily in Britain, and I knew why he couldn’t make the appointment. Finally he came back and said, “That’s all, Brown.”

I saluted him, less heartily than before, and went out. On my way back to Shorncliffe, 120 kilometers away, I thought every turn of the wheels that clacked across the rails was saying, “You’re a failure. You must go home and be called a coward by those who do not understand.”

And bitterness rose in my heart until I arrived, finally, in my tent, and I rather vigorously threw my cap on the cot, together with my Sam Browne belt. I clenched my fist, and I shook it at heaven, and I said, “How could you do this to me, God? I’ve done everything that I knew how to do to uphold the standards of the Church. I was making such wonderful growth, and now you’ve cut me down. How could you do it?”

And then I heard a voice. It sounded like my own voice, and the voice said, “I am the gardener here. I know what I want you to be. If I let you go the way you want to go, you will never amount to anything. And someday, when you are ripened in life, you are going to shout back across the time and say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for cutting me down, for loving me enough to hurt me.’”

Those words—which I recognize now as my words to the currant bush and that had become God’s word to me—drove me to my knees, where I prayed for forgiveness for my arrogance and my ambition.

As I was praying there, I heard some Mormon boys in an adjoining tent singing the closing number to an M.I.A. session, which I usually attended with them. And I recognized these words, which all of you have memorized:

It may not be on the mountain height
Or over the stormy sea;
It may not be at the battle’s front
My Lord will have need of me;
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.
. . .
So trusting my all to thy tender care,
And knowing thou lovest me,
I’ll do thy will with a heart sincere;
I’ll be what you want me to be.

[“It May Not Be on the Mountain Height,” Hymns,1948, no. 75]

My young friends and brothers and sisters, will you remember that little experience that changed my whole life? Had the Gardener not taken control and done for me what was best for me, or if I had gone the way I wanted to go, I would have returned to Canada as a senior commanding officer of western Canada. I would have raised my family in a barracks. My six daughters would have had little chance to marry in the Church. I myself would probably have gone down and down. I do not know what might have happened, but this I know, and this I say to you and to Him in your presence, looking back over sixty years: “Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for cutting me down.”

Hugh B. Brown
BYU Commencement Speech, 1968

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Angels Among Us

18 August 2014



"And whoso receiveth you, there I will be also, for I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up."
-Doctrine and Covenants 84:88

I have heard people talk about angels and I have read the accounts in the scriptures of angels coming to people in mortality in times of need. I have always believed it and thought about how amazing that must be to see or hear an angel. It always seemed to be something that happened to other people, but I never really thought about it happening to me. 

Then again, there were lots of things that I never thought would happen to me.

This journey has been one of darkness and heartache. Moments of hope quickly shadowed by mountains of despair. I have had glimpses of eternal perspective - but they are normally followed by the weight of grief becoming all consuming and I'm left broken again. It is in those moments when the darkness seems to fill every space of light around me that I have often felt alone and abandoned, even by my Heavenly Father. In those moments, I allow my weaknesses to take hold and my fears to be present. I shut out everything around me. I allow the darkness to win. At least I think I do.

It was in one of those moments that I learned one of the most humbling lessons I have yet learned in this life. 

I had booked a vacation for Jason and I to get away together. I felt prompted to do it and I followed that prompting. Two days before we were supposed to leave, I had to make new arrangements. I couldn't cancel the flights or the cruise, so I took a friend instead. A trip that should have been fun was miserable. I felt stupid for booking it in the first place, but had honestly felt prompted to do so, and was now left wondering why I had done it. Looking back, I know now that it was necessary. There is something about being far from home with no reception that allows you to ponder and get answers, even to questions you never asked.

One night, Rebekah and I sat in our room. It had been a particularly hard day and I was emotionally exhausted. I was on the edge of feeling that hopelessness that would sometimes come and I was fighting back the tears. I missed my kids, I wanted to go home, and I wanted this nightmare to be over. Then I got an email that pushed me over the edge with both hands. I sat sobbing on the bed with my face in my hands and I remember thinking, 
"Where are you?!?! Why have you abandoned me in this?!? How could you possibly sit back and watch this all happen and not do anything to stop it?!?!"
For a moment I was ashamed for yelling at God in my head, but then I was angry. I hadn't done anything wrong. I wasn't perfect, but I tried my best to do what was right. I didn't deserve this. How could He claim to love me and let this happen. How could a God of miracles withhold a miracle from me when I needed it the most?

Rebekah sat quietly watching me breakdown and finally asked me what I was thinking. Without even looking at her I finally said the words out loud that I had been thinking for some time. "I feel alone and abandoned." I then proceeded to cry my angry, frustrated, and heartbroken tears.

It was only a few moments later that Rebekah quietly said, "Natalie, can you feel that?" I didn't respond but I did finally look at her. With tears in her eyes she said, "This room is full of people. You are not alone." Our room was empty, but I knew she wasn't talking about mortal people. She was talking about angels. In my moment of darkness I was surrounded by people from the other side of the veil, sent to give me comfort when no earthly person could. I knew it and she knew it.

In Elder Jeffrey R. Holland's talk, The Ministry of Angels, he says the following:
"From the beginning down through the dispensations, God has used angels as His emissaries in conveying love and concern for His children.... 
Usually such beings are not seen. Sometimes they are. But seen or unseen they are always near. Sometimes their assignments are very grand and have significance for the whole world. Sometimes the messages are more private. Occasionally the angelic purpose is to warn. But most often it is to comfort, to provide some form of merciful attention, guidance in difficult times."
Throughout the last few months I have come to realize that I have been surrounded by angels almost constantly. They have filled my home and have stood silently watching, waiting, and comforting. God has not once abandoned me, but has instead sent me loved ones, both here on Earth and from the other side of the veil, to aide me in this trial. I won't go into detail about the specific events, but I will say this - there have been multiple times when I have known exactly who is with me and who has stood watch in my home. In dark moments and in the middle of the night, I have felt the calming, steady, patient presence of someone who protected me in that very way while he was on this earth. The feelings of his presence have been familiar and welcome and I have felt his care and concern for me, just like I did while he was alive. 

Later, in priesthood blessings, I have been reassured multiple times that specific angels have never left my side. How grateful I am for righteous ancestors that are able to assist me in difficult moments and have assured me that things will be ok, that God is always near, and that I am not forgotten.



I have learned through this that angels are near more often than we will ever know. I have learned to recognize them more frequently and pray for their presence in moments I begin to feel overwhelmed. Sometimes, in those times, a knock will come to my door or my phone will ring, and I know that I am being sent an angel here on Earth. People have stopped by at exactly the right time or have said something that they couldn't have known that I needed to hear. Angels surround us indeed. Other times, I have felt the sweet peace that accompanies someone from the other side of the veil and I know that I am not alone and never will be. What a wonderful gift angels can be, if we can learn to recognize them.
My beloved brothers and sisters, I testify of angels, both the heavenly and the mortal kind. In doing so I am testifying that God never leaves us alone, never leaves us unaided in the challenges that we face. “[Nor] will he, so long as time shall last, or the earth shall stand, or there shall be one man [or woman or child] upon the face thereof to be saved.” 13 On occasions, global or personal, we may feel we are distanced from God, shut out from heaven, lost, alone in dark and dreary places. Often enough that distress can be of our own making, but even then the Father of us all is watching and assisting. And always there are those angels who come and go all around us, seen and unseen, known and unknown, mortal and immortal. " -Jeffrey R. Holland 
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The Eye of a Hurricane

13 August 2014

I've always been fascinated with natural disasters. I know, it might seem a little odd, but in school it was always one of my favorite topics. I've always wanted to see a volcano erupting (from a distance, of course) and hurricanes are amazing to me. In the days leading up to a hurricane hitting, you might not ever see it coming. Many people comment on how blue the sky looks and how the breeze was so gentle that it barely ruffles the leaves on the trees a mere 48 hours before the strongest part of the storm hits.

I feel like a hurricane hit my life and I didn't have any warning. None. If you would have asked me how things were that morning when I woke up, I would have told you great. Sure, we had our struggles, but nothing crazy or out of the ordinary. Our 3 beautiful children demanded a lot of my attention and I was dealing with thyroid issues (I was recently diagnosed with Hashimoto disease), but other than that we were happy. Then the storm hit. I never saw it coming.

A hurricane can leave destruction in it's wake that is all consuming. Trees bent over in the wind, houses destroyed, power disconnected -  a scene of utter chaos. That's what it felt like. I felt like my world was crashing down around me while I stood watching.

The eye of a hurricane, however, is a miracle. Skies are often clear above the eye and winds are relatively light. It is actually the calmest section of any hurricane. 

A few weeks into my hurricane, I had a thought that I needed to take a pregnancy test. So, I did. Now let me tell you, I shouldn't have been pregnant. There it was, however, staring back at me.... 2 pink lines. I had been praying for a miracle over and over and over, and in that moment I knew that this was the answer to those prayers. It wasn't what I had planned on, but it was the answer none the less. Heavenly Father had heard the silent pleadings of my heart and He knew that I wasn't done being a mom. Not yet. I knew that, and apparently He knew that too.

My first ultrasound was a few weeks later and I was terrified that they would tell me I had lost the baby. I had been spotting over the weekend and with my history, I was prepared for the worst. What I heard instead would forever change my life.


Twins.



In the middle of my own personal hurricane, God gave me a miracle. Not just one, but two. It's still early, and anything can happen, but I know that Heavenly Father knew my deepest desires and He wanted me to know that He was listening. Those two tiny heartbeats have given me hope and a reason to move forward. They are my Eye of the Hurricane - smack in the middle of chaos.

Although I didn't cause the hurricane that has hit my life and the lives of my children, the damage done is still devastating and the effects will be long lasting.

"We place ourselves in the path of these spiritual hurricanes when we indulge in anger, alcohol, and abuse; lust and licentiousness; promiscuity and pornography; drugs, pride, greed, violence, envy, and lies—the list is long. Perhaps, for a time, life seems to go on as before, and in that dormant period there is no hint of the terrible retribution to come, and then we are suddenly in the grip of their satanic power, and they lay waste our lives, bringing anguish and agony, depression, despair, and desolation. Too many times they also bring sadness, sorrow, suffering, and heartache to our loved ones. In the aftermath of their destructive path, it is often more difficult to restore a spiritually shattered soul than it is to rebuild a ruined city. There are whirling winds of malevolence, malice, and evil on the move in society today, and they will not spare those who wander into their path."
-David R. Stone

How grateful I am that I know this Earth life is just a tiny speck in the eternal scheme of things. Everyone has their trials and their heartache, it is what we learn from them that matters. When I can stop and ask, "What do I need to learn from this? Who do you want me to become?" it helps me to focus on improving and growing instead of just surviving. Someday, I hope to look back and be grateful for my trials because they got me to where I needed to be.

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The Master Weaver’s Plan

11 August 2014

I'm obviously terribly behind on my blog and it seems overwhelming to try and catch up. If I'm being completely honest, right now I don't have a desire to go and post pictures about past events because they are hard to look at right now. I'm not quite ready to share with the world all the details of what has been happening in our little family, but I will say that it has been the hardest struggle and trial that I have ever endured and some days I don't want to get out of bed. Luckily for me, I have 3 sweet children who don't make that an option and force me to focus on them. That is the only thing getting me through the day right now.

It's hard for me to understand how any of this happened, and even harder to understand why, but I have decided to give up on that right now. I may not understand in this life. I probably won't. But I do know that I have a Heavenly Father who loves me, who looks out for me, and who has lifted me in moments when the darkness seemed to consume me. For the first time in my life I have started to question things that I always knew to be true, and I honestly wondered if God even cared about me. How could He stand back and watch this happen if He did? However, it has been those moments when my faith started to waver and my doubt started to gain ground that He would send me a tender mercy and reassure me that He is there and that He cares.

This trial is in no way close to being over, and the tears still come more often than I would like, but I'm starting to turn my life over to my Savior and I'm trying to have faith that He knows better than I do. He knows my heart, He knows what will make me happy, and He knows the refiner's fire that I need to endure to be worthy of His presence again someday.

The Master Weaver’s Plan

My life is but a weaving
Between the Lord and me;
I may not choose the colors–
He knows what they should be.
For He can view the pattern
Upon the upper side
While I can see it only
On this, the under side.
Sometimes He weaves in sorrow,
Which seems so strange to me;
But I will trust His judgment
And work on faithfully.
‘Tis He who fills the shuttle,
And He knows what is best;
So I shall weave in earnest,
And leave to Him the rest.
Not ’til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Shall God unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needed
In the Weaver’s skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.
-Author Unknown


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