Sometimes life can present what feels like impossible situations that we don’t know how to face. The scriptures can give us insight into how we can trust in the Lord in such times.

Here, Rachel, a Latter-day Saint college student, writes some insights from chapters 21-23 in Mosiah (in The Book of Mormon) about relying on God in times of trial.

In the Book of Mormon, Mosiah 21 talks about the people who were living under King Noah until captured by the Lamanites. This bondage was prophesied by Abinadi when he was speaking to King Noah and his priests (Mosiah 12:2). The promises the Lord makes in the following verses describe this bondage, stating they will be smitten (verses 3-7). These promises are “shall” and “will” statements, completely unconditional. However, in verse 8, there is one conditional statement. The Lord (through Abinadi) states that the people will be completely destroyed EXCEPT they repent.

In Mosiah 21, we see the fulfillment (a lot of the same wording from Mosiah 12:2-7 is in Mosiah 21:3). In verse 5 it states, “there was no way that they could deliver themselves out of [the Lamanites’] hands.” Yet verses 7, 11, and 12 tell of three attempts by the people to deliver themselves.

To put this in the context of our lives, how many times do we try to save ourselves from “bondage”? Our sins, sadness, fear, anxiety, etc. can only be taken away through help of Jesus Christ and His infinite Atonement. These people in chapter 21 suffered major losses because they tried to save themselves, but were not destroyed because, as it says in verse 13-14, “they did humble themselves… and they did cry mightily to God.” God slowly helped their situation, softening the hearts of the Lamanites (verse 15) and helping them “prosper by degrees” (verse 16). Ammon later comes and frees them from bondage. 

In contrast, Mosiah 23 tells of the bondage of the rest of King Noah’s people. Even though Alma and the righteous people who followed him had escaped King Noah’s guards and started their own lives, the prophesy of bondage still applied. The Lord followed through, but their reaction was different. Before the Lamanites even arrived at the land of Helam, the people ran to Alma, the prophet, and he calmed the people, and told them to rely on God (verse 27). They were in the same situation as the people of Limhi; verse 23 says that “none could deliver them but the Lord.” But because they chose to rely on His strength, instead of their own, in Mosiah 24:15, the Lord makes their burdens light. Because of their faith, the Lord helped them escape bondage the next day. 

If we choose to rely on God, and his strength and power, before, during, and after the bondage comes, our burdens will be made light.

Both of these groups of people eventually arrived in the Land of Zarahemla. One just took a longer and harder road. Burdens and trials will come, so we might as well make it easier for ourselves by relying on God.

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My daughter Hannah has been taking piano lessons for about a year and a half now….

Every weekday, she comes home from school, plops herself down on the bench and tries her hardest to play each assigned song “the right way.”  Her words, not mine.

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I love flowers, particularly roses.  I have planted roses before but until recently, I had never had the space to plant a large, climbing rose.  Finally, after decades of waiting, I finally had a home that had the perfect spot for a climbing rose!  With great anticipation, I chose a rose variety that would grow to cover an entire arch–up, across and down the other side–ordered it, assembled my trellis, painted it white and waited.

At last my rose arrived in bare root form and I planted it next to my newly painted arch.  The first year, my rose–the one that was supposed to span 18 feet–grew only a few feet.  In the photo above, it is easy to measure the level of my disappointment when you compare the size of the branch against the wall to the soaring heights of the arched trellis it was meant to cover.  By the end of summer that first year, I almost dug it up in disgust.  However, remembering that many roses need time to establish themselves, I decided to wait and see what happened the following year.

By the end of the second summer, one green branch had reached the top of the arch.  I was thrilled when a few sweet, pink roses bloomed in early spring, but again, I  felt cheated since this particular rose was meant to be a repeat bloomer.  Yet, the handful of roses it produced were so lovely, I decided to wait one more year.

The following spring, my rose bush went into overdrive.  Multiple canes of leafy green spanned the top of the arch and one even continued down the other side.  I can’t adequately express my sense of intense anticipation when I saw the hundreds upon hundreds of tightly bound buds that sprung into view.  There were so many branches, I set up a second trellis to take the overflow.  Every day I scrutinized the now towering bush for signs of immediate bloom.  I felt like a kid in a candy store and wanted to jump up and down with joy when all my waiting finally came to an end.

Now, as I revel in the beauty of my roses, I think back on the two years it took to produce the desired result.  Looking back, it seems such a short time to invest in something so glorious.  Yet, the waiting seemed so long.

Gardening is  much like raising children–we nurture, we feed, we teach and we love.  So often we must wait  to know that all of our efforts have been of great worth.  There are other things in life that is like this.  Whether rearing children or participating in other worthy efforts, it can be tempting to give up, to quit, to let it go, when so much of what we do seems to amount to nothing.  However, if we give up too soon, we will miss the abundance that awaits us.  Oftentimes, it is the things that we wait longest for that are the greatest treasures.

As I work at becoming a Christlike person–the most important project of all–I remind myself to be patient, that even though my efforts often don’t seem to bear sufficient fruit, the longer the road, the deeper the imprint to my soul.   I consider this as I enoy my roses and know that good things come to those who wait.

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Normally Romans is not one of my favorite books in the New Testament, I reserve that for the books of John, Hebrews, and Revelation. Yet a few weeks ago I was reading in the book of Romans, and I was struck by the following:

Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ
By whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God.
And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also; knowing that tribulation worketh patience;
And patience, experience; and experience, hope
And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.
(Romans 5:1-5)

I love Moroni’s discourse on faith, hope and charity, but somehow this statement by Paul is just as touching. I never noticed experience after patience before. And then there is hope. What is it about experience that brings hope into our lives, and what is it about patience that brings experience? If everything were easy, as often times we want, then would we really learn patience that brings experience and ultimately hope?

So many times I have put down my own trials as not significant because I see so much suffering among others I love. I see their lives as so much harder. But in doing so, do I discount what I learn from my own sorrow and tribulation? Perhaps they see life much the same way?

I remember being in nursing school, single, taking 20 + credits a semester. Life was busy, but I just had me to worry about. There were married women, some divorced, all trying to carry the burden of raising a family at the same time they were going through school. I was amazed at how they did it; I was sure I could not do the same. One of them said to me: ” I do not know how you do it.” I was one of the few freshmen in the class, not only taking the nursing classes, but also doing the prerequisite courses that the others had already completed to get into the program. (Going into the program right out of high school, those courses had to been done at the same time as the nursing classes.) I was also doing the required classes for my music scholarship, and institute classes. I was busy but I thought to myself, “I just have to worry about feeding me; I do not have to worry about feeding a family, or doing laundry for more than myself.” I thought I had it easy.

Those of us on either side of the fence thought it was harder for the other. I think we were in awe of what the other was doing. Did that mean that we learned patience? What about experience? I know that, of the things I have learned, I am not sure I have learned to completely appreciate my trials. I am not one of those that can say “I am glad I have gone through them.” There are many that I wish I did not have to go through, and I never want to walk through those refining fires again. They about did me in. Am I stronger for them? I honestly do not know. Am I better for them? Probably.

Hopefully I am more understanding and more forgiving than I was 20 years ago. I felt I learned something as I pondered this section of scripture. I learned something new, a new dimension to a favorite theme. I feel as if I have seen a harmonic chord rather than hearing it. I think this chapter deserves more time and pondering on my part. It has been a while since a scripture has touched me like that.

Learning is not always easy, but I enjoy it when it comes. So Paul, thank you for your discourse; I needed to be reminded of the grace given to all of us, and that all things are taught in time and in order, one little baby step at a time.

———

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~ by Dianne Billstrom

As I watched the planes plow into the twin towers in New York City on September 11th, 2001, and viewed the news and the aftermath of that day, these images seemed to pour out of my heart. I observed their reactions to the terrible event, yet knew that in the end freedom would rise triumphant.

Some conspired, for glory, power, or hate,
A shallow reward,
Filled with nothing,
As the towers crumbled
And the dust exploded.

Some danced, reveling in victory and destruction,
No respecter of the
Fragility of life,
As the towers crumbled
And the dust billowed.

Some Samaritans bound up wounds,
Physical and spiritual,
Comforting the afflicted,
As the towers crumbled
And the dust dispersed.

Some prayed, fortifying the spirit
Of God’s children,
Calling for supreme intervention,
When the towers crumbled
And the dust stirred.

Some gathered buckets, clearing debris,
Tirelessly sifting the rubble for signs of life,
One pail at a time,
When the towers crumbled
And the dust settled.

Some raised a banner, red, white and blue,
Symbol of freedom,
Proudly erected,
On the crumbled towers
And the solidified dust.

Some united with hope for peace,
Courageous, despite fear,
Prepared for ultimate sacrifice,
After the towers crumbled
Leaving nothing but dust.

From despair and grief rose unity of spirit,
A kinship of free men,
Resolved with conviction to succeed,
Building towers of strength
Out of the dust.

———

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Almost twelve years ago, my daughter became aware of how seriously Alzheimer’s disease had affected her grandmother’s memory and personality. My daughter, along with several other relatives, visited her in a care center where she was recovering from a serious fall. I was living abroad at the time, on a Church mission with my husband.

As I was recently doing some family history work, I found a letter I had written to my daughter at this time. Following are excerpts of the letter:

It certainly is terribly sad to see Grandmother suffer, and to realize that she will probably soon leave this mortal existence. But she is ready to go, and she seems to be trying her best to be brave and endure whatever she needs to right now.

Apparently when you all arrived at the care center, Grandmother said something like, “I’m old, I’m dumb, and I’m ugly.” When your uncle mentioned that she had said that, I cried. I thought about how difficult it must be to FEEL that way because you can’t take care of yourself, and you can’t think straight, make decisions, or remember things.

Her entire life has been one of cheerful, unselfish service to those around her. She always had a high energy level, and whether it was vacuuming, sewing or doing crafts, she was incredibly quick. It wasn’t until she was in her fifties that I noticed that I could work comfortably at her pace!

As age and infirmity began to slow her down, she came to terms with her situation, but continued to try her best to do things for others. These last few years she even struggled with her arthritis to keep making cards and [ribbon] roses for friends and family even though it was painful and time‑consuming. She always loved to cook and bake, and she has had to turn all the meal preparation over to Grandfather. She always took pains to be well groomed. Now she probably can’t even put on makeup by herself. She was a marvelous teacher and administrator, both in church callings and in the community. Now she realizes that she has to ask others to decide everything for her, and help her with the most basic every day tasks. She IS incredibly brave.

In missionary conferences this month, I have been talking about maintaining our enthusiasm and overcoming discouragement. Some of the scriptures I am using seem to me to apply to Grandmother, and I hope they will always apply to me, too:

“And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord” (Mosiah 24:15).

“Therefore, dearly beloved brethren, let us cheerfully do all things that lie in our power; and then may we stand still, with the utmost assurance, to see the salvation of God, and for his arm to be revealed.” (D&C 123:17)

“[A]l these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good” (D&C 122:7)

“[P]eace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; and then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high” (D&C 121:7‑8).

Truly her faith in Christ and her life of good works have given her the sure hope of a glorious resurrection.

I love her. I honor her. I pray that I may demonstrate that love and honor as I try to follow her example, even unto the end.

Although my mother recovered physically enough to return home, she became bedridden a few months later. My father installed a hospital bed in the living room, and lovingly cared for his eternal sweetheart until she passed away at the age of 91 in August 1999.

I will turn 69 shortly. As I see the effects of aging manifest themselves, I can’t help but wonder if my life will follow a path similar to that of my mother. Will I end up with a body unable to move from a bed on its own? Will my mind cloud over and fall prey to degenerating nerve connections? Will my spirit go dormant; or will it remain totally aware of being trapped in a mortal housing that is cut off from all meaningful communication with those around me?

No matter what the coming years may bring, my trust is in the Lord. I will continue to strive to make the best of whatever circumstances I may be in, and my goal is to truly internalize the wise advice of Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin‘s mother, as he explained it in his General Conference talk, “Come What May, and Love It.”

I want all my loved ones to know that I say now to Our Father in Heaven, while in full possession of all my faculties, and with all my heart (just as I believe my mother did), “Thy will be done.”

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(The full text of the talk can be found here.)

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Five winters ago I visited Kit and Kevin in their 420 sq. ft. apartment. I was heavy with unborn Mary and in a full-blown knitting frenzy.

The nesting instincts of pregnancy flew straight to my fingers where I spent several months knitting up hats, cardigans and light-as-air baby sweaters. The repetitive movement soothed my queasy stomach and the intricate patterns fed my need for creativity in a time where everything else felt out of control(I’m not a good pregnant woman.) More obsession than hobby, my needles followed me to the doctor’s office, book group and I really, really wanted to knit in church.

Delivery cures me of the compulsion, leaving half finished projects strewn about the house and a sweet little bundle in my arms.

Observing my progress on a little red & white cardigan, Kit begged me to teach her the wonders of knitting. I hesitated. Kit was in her 6th year of infertility, and inspiring her to knit baby sweaters seemed a bit cruel. Besides, I’m a lefty and a klutz at teaching.

But Kit is patient and clever. Following my inept instructions she began to cast on and cast off, to knit and to purl. I left her with a skein of red yarn and a set of good metal needles.

Alone with her new hobby, Kit visited a fragrant huddled yarn store in France where she purchased THE MOST COMPLICATED knitting patterns in creation and a dozen skeins of yarn to create a baby outfit. No one told her that beginning knitters usually stick with scarves and hot pads, no one told her that multi-color projects and cables and fancy stitching were reserved for hobbyists with years of experience. She didn’t know that most people end up with one sleeve 4″ longer than the other and pants two sizes larger than the top.

She didn’t know it was impossibly hard.

Kit carried her projects to doctor’s appointments and failed in-vitro attempts and of course, dozens and dozens of Kevin’s basketball games. Within months, her skills surpassed life-long knitters.

And then, two years later, a baby came to Kit and Kevin’s arms. And with 17 months more– another. Ryn grew too fast and I never got to see her in THE outfit, but petite little Elle has been wearing it comfortably for months.

I asked Kit, “How did you make this, how did you even begin, when you’d had so many disappointments?

Kit laughed, “But I always knew we’d have a baby. Birth or adoption, boy or girl. I knew I’d be a mother; it was just a matter of time. I’d be silly if I didn’t prepare.”

And so, on New Year’s Day when goals paralyzed me and I saw only limitations and impossibilities and age creeping on; I thought of Kit and her knitting needles, of dreams stitched into reality.

See that blue bump in the center? That’s baby girl number 3.

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