Plan of Salvation "LOVE" Cut-outs

Plan of Salvation "LOVE" Cut-outs:

   

 

 

 

 

    

Witness of God

            This semester, I am taking a History of Psychology course, where I have learned a lot about the “philosophies of men.” Many of them try to make sense of the world around them and find comfort by “reasoning” God out of existence—if the world has always existed, and humans are random configurations of atoms, there is no need for a divine creator. While most of the ideas of early philosophers are completely absurd, this conflicting idea is still around today. Is there a Divine Creator? Does God really exist? Are we just made up of atoms without a soul, changing through time due to evolution and natural selection? In a world of so much confusion, it can be difficult to find these answers or stand strong in your faith. However, my Book of Mormon professor pointed out a verse that describes the important role of a faithful member of Christ’s church in helping others to find the truth.

In class, my professor read to us Mosiah 18:9, which describes the covenant we make when we are baptized into the church: “Yeah, and [ye] are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yeah, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, that ye may be redeemed of God...” My professor then pointed out the phrase “stand as a witness” and said something I had never thought of before. If we are to be a witness, our duty is to testify—to bear our testimony. This places God “on trial” with us as His witness in a world that is accusing Him of many things—of not caring, or of letting bad things happen to them, and the most ironic one of all—of not existing.

In response to those philosophers mentioned above, and to anyone reading this that is in the “jury” of this trial, I testify that I know God lives. I know He loves all of His children, and He is there to comfort them when terrible things happen in their lives. I know He died for us on the cross. I know that he understands us perfectly. I am a witness of His infinite love and strength. I have grown so much closer to God here at BYU as I have trusted in Him, and I know I could not make it this far without His strength and guidance. I have one final question: where do you stand in this trial with God?

Self Improvement

            Last week, I was asked to give a spiritual thought at ward prayer on Sunday. After saying I would love to give the spiritual thought, I prayed about what to share, but nothing really came to mind. A couple of days passed, and I realized I still hadn't thought if anything. I talked with my roommate and sister, asking them what they thought I should talk about. They both suggested that I should pray. Finally, Sunday morning, as I sat down to read my scriptures, I prayed to be inspired by something I would read. As I read through the chapter, I marked important verses and phrases, yet nothing really jumped out at me--until the very last two verses. As King Benjamin finishes his speech to his people in chapter 4, he urges his people to be careful so they do not sin. Mosiah 4:29-30 reads "And finally, I cannot tell you all the things whereby ye may commit sin; for there are divers ways and means, even so many that I cannot number them. But this much I can tell you, that if ye do not watch yourselves, and your thoughts, and your words, and your deeds, and observe the commandments of God, and continue in the faith of what ye have heard concerning the coming of our Lord, even unto the end of your lives, ye must perish. And now, O man, remember, and perish not."

                I am really familiar Mosiah 4:30 since it is a scripture mastery—one of the few I still have memorized due to seminary. I have learned the importance of watching your thoughts, because thoughts lead to words and actions. However, as I contemplated the verse right before it, about the many ways we can sin, a few questions came to mind: How well do you know yourself? How well does Satan know you? How well does God know you? It is important that we all know ourselves—our strengths and weaknesses—in order to be able to watch ourselves. Satan at least knows are weaknesses, because that is how he tempts us. However, God knows not only our weaknesses and strengths, but also how to turn our weaknesses INTO strengths (Ether 12:27). He knows us perfectly—better than we know ourselves. Thus, we should all take personal inventories every week with ourselves and God, recognizing where we fell short and how to improve. Instead of brushing aside your sins and weaknesses, truly come to know yourself—what you struggle with, things you are tempted by—so that you can specifically pray for those weaknesses to become strengths. I know as we work on improving ourselves, we will come closer to God. As we turn to Him for strength and help, He will lead us on a path of self-discovery and make us stronger than we could ever be alone.

Mission Possible--Short Story

In honor of the Christmas season, I decided to post a short story I wrote this year regarding Christmas. It's kind of sad, but has a hopeful ending. I enjoy writing stories and hope you really enjoy this!

Mission Possible

By Emily Burnham

The man stood outside, peering through the foggy window as he clenched a package stuffed in his pocket with cold, stiff fingers. He could barely see past the navy blue curtains, and his nose left a print on the window from standing so close, craning his neck at odd angles to catch a glimpse inside. His training kicked in and he began scanning for hidden cameras and alarms. Immediately, he shook his head in annoyance. There was no danger here—not physical danger, at least. The regret and guilt he experienced each time he came here never failed to torture him. But it was a small price to pay. His breath fogged up the glass window, and he shivered in the cold. Despite the snow layering the ground, he was determined to see his personal mission through, just like he had the past two years—he wouldn’t leave until he caught a glimpse of his precious baby girl. There—a flash of red running by. He could faintly hear a little girl giggling as she darted and danced around the lit Christmas tree.

A curvy woman chased after the girl—six years old now—laughing with her. His heart constricted in pain like a sponge being wrung dry. He’d lost his chance at happiness. At having a family and raising his daughter. He’d even been replaced. With drooping shoulders, he watched a man encircle the woman in his arms and draw her in for a long, sweet kiss under mistletoe. They looked like the perfect family, like everything he’d ever wanted. Too bad he hadn’t known that when he’d had it. No, it was a few years after the divorce when he realized the extent of his loss.

 He didn’t know how long he stood there in the frigid air, torturing himself. His fingers had long ago become numb. He watched the family eat turkey and mashed potatoes with gravy at a candle-lit table, watched them squirt more whipped cream into each other’s mouths than on the apple pie, watched them open presents under the colorful Christmas tree decorated with hand-crafted ornaments. He could hear his daughter’s delighted squeals and wished he had the courage to go inside and join her. But he didn’t dare intrude and break the peace. Not when everyone looked so hap—

The man sucked in a lungful of air at the sight of the red sweater his ex-wife was wearing. He had given it to her for their first anniversary, and she had loved wearing it after he told her how stunning she looked in it. Though she’d gained a few pounds since the divorce, she still looked breathtaking.

Shivering, with frozen tears on his face, he turned and walked away. He couldn’t take it any longer. She had been all his, and he’d foolishly cast her aside like a used toothpick, thinking his job was more important. He’d neglected his daughter and wife, throwing himself into one reckless mission after another, trying to climb the ladder of Homeland Security to the top. His wife’s pleadings to spend time with her and their daughter had fallen on deaf ears. Four years later and he’d reached the top at work, but at a hefty price. How many times did she have to put up with him coming home long after dinner had turned cold and been put away? How many of his daughter’s preschool dance recitals had he missed? How many family vacations had he cancelled last minute?

Looking back, he could see that she could tell he was lying to her about his whereabouts. She’d stopped believing him when he said he was travelling for work or staying late to file paperwork. After all, what kind of accountant travelled for months on end and constantly worked overtime? He should have told her the truth about his occupation, regardless of his chief’s orders. But he hadn’t. He let the lies pile up until one day they came toppling down in a screaming match of accusations and she couldn’t handle it anymore. Divorce papers followed soon after, and because of his dangerous and time-consuming job, he wasn’t allowed custody over his daughter. That hadn’t stopped him from visiting her as often as he could between jobs—four times a year if he was lucky. He’d refused to work on Christmas after the divorce, but could never gather the courage to visit them. It didn’t feel right when he hadn’t made the effort to be home for Christmas while they were still married. 

He continued trudging towards his car, planning on putting the package in the mail box like he did every year. He was resigned to the fact that he’d be spending Christmas in his empty apartment, eating cold pizza and watching Mission Impossible for the billionth time. Indeed, the job he had once glorified had come at a hefty price. Engrossed in his lonely thoughts, he missed the sound of the front door to the house slowly opening and footsteps crunching in the snow.

“Daddy?” a small voice asked. “Is that you?” The man turned slowly, as if in a dream. He couldn’t believe it. His daughter stood shivering in the front yard, her breath visible in the frigid air. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her small body, trying to keep warm. The last time he’d seen her was six months ago, and he couldn’t believe how much she’d grown since then.

“Baby Doll?” His heart started galloping out of his chest, and it was all he could do to stay upright as his knees threatened to collapse beneath him. He vaguely noticed how ironic it was that he was never this nervous when taking down terrorists and mass murderers.

“I’m not a baby,” she huffed, dramatically rolling her eyes as only six-year-olds can. 

“You’ll always be my baby,” the man whispered, still in a daze as he stared at the angelic little girl before him. Tufts of stray blonde hair formed a halo around her head and her wide blue eyes stared up at him curiously—features she’d definitely inherited from her mother. Yet he could see her resemblance to him in the shape of her flat nose and dimpled chin.

“Daddy, it’s cold outside. Let’s go in. Mommy’s making hot cocoa.” Her innocent smile nearly broke his heart in half. Even the curve of her smile resembled her mother.

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sweetie. Does your mom know you’re outside?”

She shook her head. “No, but I saw you through the window and came out to see you.”

“You’d better head inside before your mother misses you. You don’t want to worry her, do you?”

Her bottom lip stuck out in a pout and tears filled her eyes. “Bu-but I don’t wanna go! I wanna stay here with you.”

The man sighed in resignation and walked over to her, crouching down onto the cold, ice-packed ground to wrap his arms around her. He could feel her tremoring from the cold. “I know you do. I want to stay with you too. But we don’t want Mom to miss you.” Gently, he pulled away and tucked her hand in his as he stood up so he could walk her to the door. He paused for a moment, fist raised in the air, as he steeled his nerves. Rap, rap, rap. He gulped as the door slowly cracked open, mentally preparing himself for her cold wrath.

“Greg? What are you doing here? Don’t you have to… work?” his confused ex-wife asked, her narrowed eyes trailing down to his hand linked with their daughter’s. “Annie, what are you doing outside?”

“I saw Daddy through the window!” Annie tugged on his hand, pulling her reluctant father inside after her. Her mother furrowed her eyebrows as they passed by her. She cracked the door closed behind her and hesitantly trailed after the pair, taking Annie’s other hand.

“That’s nice, Honey. Why don’t you go show Steve the presents you got from grandma this morning?” She tugged Annie away from Greg and towards the kitchen. Greg felt a sting of jealousy—Steve got to spend more time with his daughter than he did.

“Can I show Daddy my presents too?” she asked with shining eyes, bouncing up and down. She clapped her hands in excitement, causing Greg to relax and chuckle at her enthusiasm.

“Maybe another time.” With her teeth clenched together tightly, she continued to pull on their daughter’s arm. She muttered, “He’s too busy with more important things, anyway.”

“But Mommy!” Annie started to whine, trying to free her hand from her mother’s grasp. “I want Daddy to stay here!”

“Annie.” Her tone was firm. “Please listen to me.” Annie shook her head vehemently, her face scrunching up in defiance.

“Annie, it’s okay. Listen to your mom. I can come by some other time to see all your presents.  But here,” he awkwardly stuffed a hand in his pocket and pulled out a small wrapped package. He felt uncomfortable under the searching scrutiny of his ex-wife, who was probably wondering why he’d chosen now to show up at Christmas after three years of divorce. Little did she know this was a habit of his. He just hadn’t gotten caught before. “This is for you.” Annie’s face brightened in anticipation and she succeeded in pulling free from her mother as she darted forward.

“What is it?” Her fingers wiggled in the air as she held out an impatient hand.

“Open it and see.”

Tearing through the candy-cane decorated wrapping paper, Annie gasped in delight. “It’s sparkly!” She clutched the rhinestone encrusted box to her chest, twisting back and forth with a smile as brilliant as the lights strung on the tree.

“Don’t you want to know what’s inside of the box?” Greg playfully asked, his discomfort melting under the warmth of his daughter’s delight. He’d finally stopped shivering.

“There’s more?” Her face lit up. She plopped down onto the floor and carefully placed the box in front of her. Slowly, she lifted the lid and pulled out a heart-shaped locket was pulled out. “Ooh, pretty!” she cooed.

“How much did that cost?” his ex-wife asked, turning her piercing gaze towards him.

“Doesn’t matter.” He shook his head and knelt down next to his daughter, showing her how to open it.

“Daddy, that’s a picture of you!” She pointed to the left side of the locket.

“Yup, that’s me.”

“And is that me?” She pointed to the right frame, where a small picture of her as a baby lay. Although his face was cut out of the picture to make the photo small enough to fit, she was lying in his arms, sound asleep.

“Yes. You were such a beautiful baby.” He reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear before closing the locket for her and clasping it around her neck. “Now I can always be with you, even when I’m away at work.”

“Thanks Daddy.” She threw her arms around his neck and he wrapped his arms around her, conscious of his ex-wife roasting him alive with the heat of her gaze, arms folded in a protective manner.

“I got to go now. I love you, Baby Doll.” He gave her one last squeeze before letting go.

“Love you too.” 

With one last glance at his daughter, Greg stepped back outside into the cold. The door slammed shut behind him. With a sigh, he trudged across their yard towards the empty street. He’d parked his car further down, not wanting it to be heard or recognized by his ex-wife.

“Wait!” a deep voice called out from behind him. Greg turned back, spotting Steve waving at him through the doorway. “Want to join us for one last game before Annie has to go to bed? We’re playing Monopoly and could use another player.”

            “I’m not sure,” he said, avoiding eye contact.  

            “Annie really wants to play with you.”

            “What about Cindy?”

            “Cindy wants Annie to be happy. And you make her happy.” Steve shrugged as if it were that simple. Greg weighed his options. He could go home and spend Christmas night alone, or he could pretend to be part of a perfect family and spend time with his baby girl.

            “Okay.” Greg agreed, his eyes stinging as he placed one foot in front of the other. Gratitude replaced the earlier resentment Greg had felt towards Steve as he walked back into the house. The door clicked firmly shut behind them.

The End