[cake]

I heard the best FHE lesson last night.
We read this:
"Sometimes we wonder,
'What did I do to deserve this?' or
'Why did God have to do this to me?'
Here is a wonderful explanation!:


A daughter is telling her mother how everything is going wrong: she's failing algebra, her boyfriend broke up with her and her best friend is moving away.  Meanwhile, her mother is baking a cake and asks her daughter if she would like a snack, and the daughter says, 'Absolutely, Mom.  I love your cake.'
'Here, have some cooking oil,' her mother offers.
'Yuck,' says her daughter.
'How about a couple raw eggs?'
'Gross, Mom!'
'Would you like some flour, then? Or maybe baking soda?'
'Mom, those are all yucky!'
To which the mom replies: 'Yes, all of those things seem bad all by themselves.  But when they are put together in the right way, they make a wonderfully delicious cake!'
God works the same way.  Many times we wonder why He would let us go through such bad and difficult times.  But God know that when He puts these things all in His order, they always work for good! We just have to trust Him and, eventually, they will all make something wonderful."


One of the Elders went on to talk about all of those ingredients being the batter.  The batter is only changed into a cake by putting it in the oven and turning it on.  The oven represents putting yourself in holy places: reading your scriptures, attending church, surrounding yourself with positive & uplifting people, etc.  Turning on the heat represents turning on the spirit.  Having one, but not the other, does no good.
The part that he said that really hit me was pulling the cake in and out of the oven doesn't do any good.  Cooking the cake for five minutes, and then taking it for five before putting it back in the oven is not going to have good results.
I'll be honest, I tend to jump in and out of the oven.  I tend to try really hard, feel frustrated, and let my habits slide.  I tend to remove myself from the oven to cool off, when I need that heat to better myself.  The heat is scary, I can tell you that much.
I'm just working on me.  I'm trying so hard to work on me and to prepare myself to eventually be a wife and mother, and sometimes it is just so overwhelming to try to learn and grow and be better than I feel.  As much as I want to be the best me, some days I just choose to jump out of the oven.
This month, I'm going to work on staying in the oven, even when it gets tough. I'm going to work on letting the heat refine me. I'm going to work on loving me and loving Him.

Currant Bush

"I was living up in Canada. I had purchased a farm. It was run-down. I went out one morning and saw a currant bush. It had grown up over six feet high. It was going all to wood. There were no blossoms and no currants. I was raised on a fruit farm in Salt Lake before we went to Canada, and I knew what ought to happen to that currant bush. So I got some pruning shears and went after it, and I cut it down, and pruned it, and clipped it back until there was nothing left but a little clump of stumps. It was just coming daylight, and I thought I saw on top of each of these little stumps what appeared to be a tear, and I thought the currant bush was crying. I was kind of simpleminded (and I haven’t entirely gotten over it), and I looked at it, and smiled, and said, “What are you crying about?” You know, I thought I heard that currant bush talk. And I thought I heard it say this: “How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth. I was almost as big as the shade tree and the fruit tree that are inside the fence, and now you have cut me down. Every plant in the garden will look down on me, because I didn’t make what I should have made. How could you do this to me? I thought you were the gardener here.” That’s what I thought I heard the currant bush say, and I thought it so much that I answered. I said, “Look, little currant bush, I am the gardener here, and I know what I want you to be. I didn’t intend you to be a fruit tree or a shade tree. I want you to be a currant bush, and some day, little currant bush, when you are laden with fruit, you are going to say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for loving me enough to cut me down, for caring enough about me to hurt me. Thank you, Mr. Gardener.’”

I had read this before.  But I'm not sure I had loved this before. I'm not sure I'd ever really loved it like I do now.  This was read in a talk, on Sunday.  I needed it badly.
Sometimes, I am exhausted with being a currant bush.  Sometimes I want to be a Sequoia.  It's probably vain of me to even admit that. But it's honestly been one of the hardest things in the world, for me to face that maybe I'm a currant bush, & that that is His plan & it is perfect.  The only thing harder has been trying to convince others that He loves his currant bushes just as much as his giant trees.
Come what may. [& love it.]

<3

I am so, so blessed. I never seem to say that enough.