Tis The Season

By Gina Stinson

It’s the season of giving thanks, celebrating the birth of the Savior and making goals for living a better life. Oh…the holidays! As I sit and write this I am recovering from an obnoxious cold that has just about gotten the best of me. I’ve been in the recliner for four days and I am pretty sure my poor family is tired of hearing me bark…I mean, cough.

I’ve had a lot of time on my hands. Something I don’t have much of during the holidays. I’ve blogged, read a book, written some, and watched too much television. I’m ready to get back to my real life.

After four days my body and mind start crying out for activity. I’m craving some cuddle time with my kids, I want to cook, laundry is even looking—well, ok…maybe not. But, you know what I mean. When you’ve been down, there comes a time when you are about to go crazy for some activity. I’m there.

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Our Cry to the Father

By Peter Lundell

On an out-of-town trip, I stayed at the home of our church members. Their baby cried at 3:00 a.m. and again at 6:30 in the morning. Parents of newborns may yearn for the time when their child sleeps through the night. But, not being in such a position, I just listened.

The cry sounded almost like a song calling out to parents. I thought of the babies I’d heard cry: in Minnesota, where I grew up; in Haiti, where they’re born into abject poverty; in Japan, a completely different race and culture. The cries were similar. Rich or poor, Eastern or Western, the babies all called out to parents.

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From Trash To Treasure

By Cheri Cowell

I know I’m my mother’s daughter because I have one secret habit that comes directly from her. This is indeed a dirty little secret that my husband wishes I didn’t have. I can’t help myself, but as I drive by homes on garbage day, I survey the trash. I’ve found chairs, lamps, bookshelves, silk trees, and even a perfectly good fruit tree. My husband was horrified the first time I made him stop beside a garbage heap while I jumped out of the car to retrieve something. Over the years, he’s learned to go along with my treasure hunts and has even begun to enjoy our excursions on garbage day.  

There are “hidden treasures” around us every day, people who have been tossed out on the trash heaps of mankind, labeled useless to society. These worthless rags, unseen and forgotten by the rest of the world, are seen by God. He has called us to be His treasure seekers, looking for the lost and reclaiming them for Him. Because of your faithfulness in seeing the trash heap of another as a place of buried treasure, generations after you will come to know Jesus. 

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Surrounded By The Garden Of God

By Peter Lundell

I whispered, “Speak to me, God.” And a whippoorwill sang. But I was hurrying between appointments. I shouted, “God, speak to me!” And thunder clapped from the sky. But I dashed inside to escape the rain. When the storm cleared I prayed, “God, I want to see you.” And the stars shone from behind the passing clouds. But my cell phone rang, and I didn’t want to miss the call. As the days passed, I asked, “God, show me a miracle.” And a child was born. But I only took photos and said a quick prayer. Finally, I raised my hands and pleaded, “Touch me, God.” And the wind caressed my face. But I turned away and put on a jacket, disappointed that God did not respond.

When we insulate ourselves from nature, we insulate ourselves from God as well, because God connects with us through the natural world. Earth is another word for God’s garden.

Our souls can become anesthetized. This happens when we drift into the artificial respiration of needing to be constantly busy or when we focus on something electronic.

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The Narrow Trail

By Virginia Smith

In Utah’s Wasatch Mountains just east of Salt Lake City there’s a trail I love to hike. It’s called Donut Falls. I drive up Big Cottonwood Canyon and leave my car at a small and often crowded parking area, lace up my hiking boots and take off. There are two trails – the first is wide enough for a car, though no vehicles are permitted up there. It is easy, with a gentle grade and few rocks littering the way. It’s a beautiful hike and leads to the top of the falls where I can see the donut, a giant flat rock with a round hole where thousands of gallons of rushing mountain water pour through.

The second trail isn’t so easy. It’s narrow, steep, and often jagged. I stop periodically to catch my breath, and at one place I have to climb down a six-foot muddy ledge, holding on to tree roots for balance. But it’s worth the extra effort, because the narrow trail ends below the falls instead of above it. All that water pours through the hole above me and thunders into a sheltered pool, refreshing me with a cool mountain spray as it rushes past me over a stunning rocky creek bed. The view from that angle takes my breath away. It’s well worth the struggle to get there.

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