A SYNOPSIS OF LIFE

 

Seasons of Change by LDS Bookstore

Teenage years: Life is great and possibilities are great.

Twenties: My Prince has come, not on a steed but in a small second-hand Toyota, but that’s OK. I am about to sail off into the sunset of perfection and a glorious thereafter.

Thirties: The sunset faded all too soon and the prince has turned into a toad. I am divorced with two children in tow.

Forties: I am penniless but the tabloids tell me I am a superwoman and I can yet re-invent myself and create another life because for women life begins at 40.

Fifties: Still penniless and wrung dry by single motherhood. My mother is in her 70s and she refuses to walk with a cane. What the heck is wrong with her? Doesn’t she know how old she is????

Sixties: My body is breaking. The thought of having a shower fills me with fear and dread and actually having one that lasts all of five minutes is a monumental achievement. And no way am I walking with a cane!

I don’t know if it happens to everyone but it seems that when we reach the last leg of the journey, we start evaluating a lot and calculating the worth of our lives by a very short synopsis. I was struggling with a very low number I was coming up with until my friend recently confided in me the same struggle. She felt she has not achieved much and therefore she herself must not be worth much.  

The thing is, there is only one thing we take with us when we die….ourselves, therefore our worth cannot be measured by earthly achievements but by the worth of our souls. I have not attended one funeral where the financial worth of the deceased was on display for everyone to admire. Who they were was always remembered over what they have achieved and acquired.

When God the Father showed Enoch His corrupted children that would be swept away in the flood, He wept at the loss (Moses 7:28). Enoch was beyond perplexed when he considered that God would sorrow over a ‘handful’ of His children compared to the immensity of His creations (v 29-31). The Father simply answered that these His children were ‘the workmanship” of His hands (v 32). The dictionary defines ‘workmanship’ as ‘the product or result of labour and skill, or work executed’.

I pondered on this some years ago and considered the work that went into the making of us such as: 1. our spiritual creation which depended on the Father’s rise to Godhood; 2. Our spiritual tutoring for eons of time; 3. The creation of the earth for our mortality; 4. The overseeing of our earthly tutoring; 5. The preparation of kingdoms for our eternal destination; 6. The redemption of our souls through the sacrifice of another.

I also thought of our earthly lives and the scale of guidance, protection, care, anguish and sorrow of our Heavenly Parents, the Holy Ghost, our guardian angels, our ancestors, our departed loved ones and all the hosts of heaven who know us….and not just what others have put into us but what we have put into ourselves….in this life and before we even came here. Progression is a long journey.

As I spoke to my friend, I said to her that I have come to the conclusion that I would gladly repeat all the trials and hardships of my life if it would bring me back to this time and place where I am the closest I have ever been to the Saviour of the world. As I spoke, I became cognizant of my worth and that I was my greatest asset. The height of my value I owe to Him who has not only bled for my soul but who has fine tuned me like an old violin……..

“Twas battered and scarred and the auctioneer thought it hardly worth his while to waste his time on the old violin, but he held it up with a smile. “What am I bid, good people”, he cried, “Who starts the bidding for me?”

“One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two? Two dollars, who makes it three? Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going, going for three.”

“But no, from the room far back a gray bearded man came forward and picked up the bow.

Then wiping the dust from the old violin and tightening up the strings, he played a melody, pure and sweet. As sweet as the angel sings.

“The music ceased and the auctioneer with a voice that was quite and low said, “What now am I bid for this old violin?” As he held it aloft with its’ bow. “One thousand, one thousand, do I hear two? Two thousand, who makes it three? Three thousand once, three thousand twice, Going and gone”, said he.

“The audience cheered, but some of them cried, “We just don’t understand, What changed its worth?” 

Swift came the reply, “The touch of the Master’s Hand.”

- CATHRYNE ALLEN