The Saturday that Sits betwixt Friday and Sunday

When Mormons are small Mormon children in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, they learn a song that goes something like this: “Saturday is a special day – it’s the day we get ready for Sunday…”

I, myself, learned that song when I was small Mormon child. I got a kick out of learning new good songs at church on a weekly basis. I remember how much I loved being a church-goer as a little kid, and I am wholly confident that my fondness of church has increased exponentially since those golden youthful years.

Almost needless to say, I attended church again this past Sunday, which was Easter Sunday 2014. While at church, my friends and I discussed a talk that was given by an Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ, in October 2006: “Sunday Will Come,” by Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin.

Elder Wirthlin’s talk was largely about the contrast between the dismally dark Friday when Christ was crucified, and the beautifully bright subsequent Sunday when Christ came back to life, to forevermore live, never again die, and pave the way for all of God’s children to receive the same resurrectionary (not a word, but it is now) blessing. But the wonderful thing about talks (and scriptures) is that the words may be originally said in a certain way, but the Holy Ghost can use those inspired and truthful words to teach a whole ‘nother thing in a whole ‘nother context. Because this is true, we friends, while gathered together last Sunday, were able to discover interesting ways the talk applied to various aspects of our lives, and our discussion ended up being a very uplifting one. All in the room were edified.

Gearshift here; I’m about to change the subject. Loopholes…particularly a loophole related to Elder Wirthlin's talk. I’m not saying there is a loophole in it, because in my eyes (and ears) it was an impeccably prepared and delivered speech. But if another subtopic were to have been addressed within the talk, I imagine one option could have been the mood of the Saturday that was situated betwixt the dark Friday and bright Sunday. I reread the talk since last Sunday, online. And just to feed my curiosity, I pressed “Ctrl + F” and searched for “Saturday,” so I could see if Saturday was mentioned anywhere, but it wasn’t. Which is OK. If Saturday were mentioned, perhaps I wouldn’t have been prompted to therapeutically ponder and write out my thoughts.

What happens on the Saturday that lies between your troublesome Friday and your curative Sunday? How do you cope on Saturday? Are you in despair, thinking tomorrow will not come? Or do you maintain a hopeful heart, counting on Sunday morning’s sun to rise n’ shine?

On Friday, you enter a state of gloom. The gloom may seem intolerable; or, it may seem workable enough that you can still function properly as person, for the most part, but you’re still blue, and you still would rather feel better. On Friday you somehow just “make do.” Depending on how rough your situation is, by the time Saturday rolls around, you may have surprised yourself that you made it through the night.

So yeah, Saturday’s here. What are you going to do today? Yes, your trial is still probably glaring at you. But does the knowledge that “Sunday will come” help you deal with it? Sunday has not quite arrived yet, but may I suggest that you can carry bits of Sunday in your pocket, before Sunday even happens?

Gearshift again; I’m going to swivel my attention to face my fellow young single adults. Dear friends, I’m going to talk about us for a sec. I think a lot of us feel like we’re in some sort of limbo land. This limbo is a big “Saturday” of ours. This limbo is often one in which we’re seeking the “Sunday” of finding the person we should marry. This limbo can also be the “Sunday” of finding a good job, figuring out what to study in school, or deciding where in the world to move and continue to build a life.

May I expound further on what I said about carrying “bits of Sunday” in our pockets? What if the Sunday we want to find—the exit from limbo—isn’t the prime Sunday we should be most concerned about? The Sunday we can constantly tote around with us in our pockets, no matter what day of the week of life we’re currently in, can very well be our faith in God. Our trust in God. We can continually trust that He will guide our paths and lead us along to our upcoming life stages, if we will but lean on His ample arm, be the best people we can be, and be the best disciples of Jesus Christ we can be.

I love how the “Sunday” in Elder Wirthlin’s talk was all about our triumphant and resurrected Savior Jesus Christ. Now that I have revisited the talk, I like to think of the “Sunday in my pocket” as my Savior’s love that I feel inside of me and sense surrounding me every day. It is my hope and prayer that we all can feel that love, nourish our faith in God, and diligently keep a replenished stock of Sunday bits in our pockets.

An Easter Bunny Named "Jackrabbit"

Easter is coming up in a few days. So, naturally, I’ve been pondering what the Easter Bunny symbolizes. And, naturally, I am drawing a blank. I mean, who here has an excellent idea of exactly how bunnies relate to the true meaning of Easter? Maybe one of you has a great idea regarding that, and maybe I’m just sourly undereducated.

However, there is one particular bunny in my life that reminds me of the central figure of the holiday that is Easter.

Once upon a time I was a high school freshman who was still slightly too young to drive. The boy next door, though, was not freshman, not sophomore, but junior, and he had a pretty awesomely and legitimately vintage teal-turquoise Jeep – one that could have windows and a cover if you wanted it to have windows and a cover. So, like, you could turn it into one of two distinct 19^th century American pioneer trek vehicles: the covered wagon, or the handcart. The boy next door would always give me a ride to school, early every weekday morning, and we’d usually transport ourselves handcart-style (with no windows or cover). Sometimes it was bitter cold in our Mojave Desert, and you’d shiver in that bitterness whether you weren’t going handcart-style or you were. But I never minded it, because it was always me who got to ride to school in the hippest, swankiest ride evah.

Oftentimes I didn’t care for the music that the boy next door liked to listen to when we journeyed northward to school; however, he did introduce to me two of my “guilty pleasure” songs (**>>COUGH<<**Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana and Welcome to the Jungle by Guns N’ Roses**>>COUGH<<**). The boy next door and I would never talk to each other; we’d just sit and travel, sit and travel, and sit and travel. And listen to grunge rock. Bahaha.

In fact, I think the only substantial thing he ever said to me was “Do you want to cut through the desert on the way to school?” and the only substantial thing I ever said to him was when I replied to his question with “Yep.”

And so we’d take the shortcut through the desert all the time. We created a path one day, and continued to take that path all of the subsequent days. Day one, halfway up the path, a black-tailed jackrabbit hopped in front of us, just barely missing our forthcoming speeding tires. Lucky rabbit. It didn’t take long to realize that that jackrabbit lived its life by strict clockwork, because we witnessed it hop across our path in that exact same spot many, many, many a morning. Such marvelous consistency.

This is the “particular bunny in my life” that I mentioned in paragraph two of this blog post. When I was recently racking my brain to try to think of some bunny that is at least indirectly connected to Easter, I thought of that amazing jackrabbit. I thought about jackrabbit’s constancy, and I thought about how Jesus Christ is my constant. He and His beloved Father—who is my Heavenly Father—both are my constants. Christ, in particular, continuously offers to mankind His great atoning sacrifice that is infinitely more amazing than my jackrabbit friend. Christ’s deeply beautiful atonement, which unfailingly helps, heals, and blesses people who humbly and devotedly use it, is always there. It’s a constant.

Another constant that has been offered upon the table—never to be withheld from any past, present, or future human soul—is the unfathomably remarkable gift of resurrection, which is the post-death permanent reunion of body and spirit, and was made possible by Jesus Christ, on that first glorious Easter day. Christ died, but rose from the dead. He lived after He died. He lives now. We will have that invaluable opportunity to live after we die. The promise that we’ll have that opportunity is constant. Constant like the jackrabbit, only more so, and more importantly so.

Um, anyway, that’s what a jackrabbit and Easter have to do with each other, in my mind.

May we all remember our Savior and Redeemer, Jesus Christ, especially at this Eastertime. May we always be able to feel His love, for He loves us constantly.

The Crystal Chandelier

High above my head

I saw a glowing chandelier

Gleaming as the dental work

Of porcelain veneers

Prettier, however

Than those toothy pearly whites

This crystal chandelier

Was filled with heavenliest of light

The hanging shiny fixture

Began to symbolize

A hundred different truthful things

Beautiful to realize

Looking close at each small gem

I noticed each was fair

Every color was displayed

As each did dangle there

But each, when brought together

In a unit organized

Made a far more gorgeous sight

By which I’m not surprised

But by which I am still in awe

Because it’s just that grand

What I beheld resembled

The diamond-studded sand

Which lines the coasts of Earth

Which is a floating sphere

A shape of long circumference

And wide diameter

In a way proportional

To the measurements

Of the sparkling decoration

So delightfully immense

Speaking of the bigness

Of the chandelier substantial

Its massiveness was held up

By a chain and cord essential

Likewise with God’s children

Who all are fair and precious

When harmoniously united

Are sustained by God the gracious

The children of the Father

Who dwells on high in heaven

Must live as Christ the Savior

Oft as seventy times seven

This means kindly charity

Benevolent forgiveness

Courage to stand up for right

And spreading gospel goodness

When endeavoring together

To build an earthly home

That’s full of these ingredients

We’ll never be alone

Because we work in Jesus’ name

We shall in nowise fall

In nowise shall our chandelier

Go shattering at all

I have been thinking a lot about chandeliers lately, and today I found one! In the lobby of the Joseph Smith Memorial Building in Salt Lake City!