Morning. In my world morning is a synonym for torture. The sun
shines brightly, the birds sing, and everything wakes up new and refreshed.
Don't get me wrong, mornings are beautiful. They can be enjoyed. But mornings
mean that I have to wake up. Since I'm a night person, this is a real chore and
I'm seldom happy about it. What good could ever come from having to get out of
bed?
Flash back almost
200 years; it's an early in the morning in the early spring. The sun is slowly
fighting off the chill of the night. You are sitting in a field near a family
farm in New York. You hear a door creek open and look over at the house. A boy
of about 14 is walking out of the house with a look of determination radiating
from his countenance. He walks to the trees and disappears in the green wood.
You sit and contemplate what would drive a boy that age to venture into the
words so early on a cold morning. But life goes on and you soon forget what you
saw.
A few days later
you see that face again. But is has changed. Instead of determination, you see
peace, humility, and a light that seems to shine from the face of this ordinary
14 year old farm boy. What could cause such a change?
The next day,
determination fills your soul as you arise with the sun. You follow the young
man's path into the woods; searching desperately for a sign of his secret
transformation. You come upon a clearing and your heart catches fire. It looks
like many clearing you have seen but the warmth in your chest drives you to
your knees.
Your knees hit the
grass and foliage that is packed down, as if someone knelt here before. You
look up at the sky and see a shaft of light breaking through the green canopy.
It's the most beautiful thing you've seen in years. It's so peaceful and quiet.
You clasp your
hands together and start pouring out your heart. You know the Lord is near. You
can feel it in every breath you take and in the still of the grove. You lose
track of how long you've been praying; but the tears on your cheeks have dried
and left stiff salt trails down your face. You leave the grove with a new
humility, a new faith, a new light.
Elder Kikuchi, in
a devotional at BYU- Idaho stated, "Morning is a symbol of the resurrection."
How many mornings do you spend with your Savior?
Joseph Smith Jr.
entered the Sacred Grove in the morning. He knelt and prayed to our Father in
Heaven in a secluded peaceful place. He did all of this right after waking and
he was blessed.
How often do we
seek out our own Sacred Grove, our own quiet safe place where we can commune
with our Father in Heaven? How many mornings do we awake with an eye set so
firmly on the council of our creator that we are driven to our knees?
