The Greatest Gift

I was asked to speak in Sacrament Meeting the Sunday before Christmas. When Brother Tucker asked me, my response was, "I thought bishop's wives were exempt from speaking in Sacrament Meeting." He asked where I had heard that and I told him it was in my handbook. I'd had some thoughts kicking around in my head for sometime and I knew this was the Lord's way of motivating me to write them down before they were lost. I thought the relatives on my side of the family would like to read some of these thoughts so I am posting it here.



The Greatest Gift

As most of you know, I grew up in a small town in Southern Utah, Beaver. My dad is a cattle rancher and runs cattle on land that has been passed down from generation to generation. This ranch is not his alone, but his brothers as well. Because they all work together, I had the unique opportunity of being raised with a lot of cousins, aunts and uncles around me. I have many fond memories of big family dinners, holiday parties and birthday parties, and so many experiences with cousins down at the farm I can't even begin to name them. With all of these get-togethers, came opportunities for storytelling. One of my favorite stories is told by my uncle and it goes like this. . .
Floyd loved Christmas. Every year he would get excited about the presents and everything that goes a long with the holiday. One year, when he was about eight years old, he had a plan. He decided to give himself as a gift to his family. He contracted his mother for help and put the plan in motion. Floyd found a great, big box and wrapped it with paper, adding many sparkling bows to give it just the right touch, then he waited for Christmas morning. The day soon arrived and Floyd could hardly wait. His family had the tradition of eating breakfast before they could open gifts. His mother would put a big sheet over the doorway to the living room so no one could see presents before it was time. After breakfast, Floyd and his mother snuck into the living room. Floyd climbed into his box and his mother put the lid on the box, then his mother pulled the sheet and let everyone in. Floyd waited, anticipating the time he would be opened. He thought about how startled his siblings would be when he would jump up and yell surprise. Floyd waited and waited. He could hear his brothers and sister opening all their presents. He could hear their exclamations of joy as they unwrapped each package. Floyd still waited and waited. He started to get sad, he realized no one was going to open him. It seemed as if no one even noticed the big, huge box in the middle of the room wrapped in bright paper and covered in sparkling bows. As he sat in the box, he started to cry. This was not how he imagined it at all. Finally, he stood up, popping the top off the box, and asked, "Isn't anyone going to open me?"
I love to hear him tell this story because I can just picture this little boy so excited, waiting for the big surprise he has planned, and then sitting inside his present while everyone ignores him. I'm sure his siblings were smart enough to realize he was in that box, and I'm sure they thought it would be funny if they ignored him because sometimes that's what brothers and sisters do. But, as I recently thought about this story, I realized how symbolic it is. We have an older brother who has given us the greatest gift of all, and I think sometimes, not only at Christmastime but throughout the year, we ignore the big, bright shiny package that is right before us. Our Savior gave us the gift of His life. He gave us the atonement.
We celebrate the Savior's birth this time of year, and while that is a wondrous and glorious miracle, His birth is significant because of the acts that followed. President Monson put it perfectly in his address at the Christmas devotional a few weeks ago, he said, " The Savior gave freely to all, and His gifts were of value beyond measure. Throughout His ministry, He blessed the sick, restored sight to the blind, made the deaf to hear, and the halt and lame to walk. He gave cleanliness to the unclean. He restored breath to the lifeless. He gave hope to the despairing and bestowed light in the darkness. "
He gave us His love, His service, and His life.
But His gift did not end there. He broke the bonds of death and returned for us, so that we might all know and understand that life is eternal.
This is the gift that, perhaps, we forget to open. This gift of love that our Heavenly Father gave to us and that His Son performed for us. Opening this gift is easy, we simply have to have faith. We have to believe and then come to know that this gift is true. We have to believe that because of this gift, we can be forgiven, we can be made whole. We have to understand that our burdens can be lighter, that we are never alone and that we are always loved. We can unwrap this gift everyday as we study our scriptures, commune in prayer with our Father, do what He has asked by serving one another, and believing that the atonement, His gift, is a true, tangible, miraculous tool that we can apply to our lives. We have to know that this gift is real and it is there for us to help us experience joy in this life and in the next life when we can rejoice with Him and all those whom we have loved and shared with.
Nephi teaches us about believing in this gift. In 1 Nephi 7 we read the story of Nephi and his brothers when they are asked by the Lord, through Lehi, to return to Jerusalem and enlist Ishmael and his family to join them on their journey. We are familiar with Laman and Lemuel's response to any request of their father, they murmured and groaned, thinking the task was too great. Nephi reminds them, as he reminds all of us in verse 12, "Yea, and how is it that ye have forgotten that the Lord is able to do all things according to his will, for the children of men, if it so be that they exercise faith in him?" Nephi is telling us that we not only have to believe, but we have to know, that Christ can do what He says He can do.
I was reminded of the true blessings of this Gift at Christmastime, three years ago. It was a crazy Christmas season for me that year, as it seems to be most years. I had a two month old baby amidst many other events happening at that time of year. Christmas seemed like a job to me. I was worried about pleasing every one with just the right gift and making sure my family enjoyed all the fun things that come with the season. The problem was, I wasn't having any fun. As the big day grew closer, I started to feel like I just couldn't wait for it to be done. I had completely lost perspective on the purpose of celebrating Christ's birth and had forgotten the blessings He had given me. On December 23, I was driving down to Salt Lake with Lindsey. We were headed to the Joseph Smith building to play our violins at a Christmas concert we participate in every year. As I was driving, it started to snow. I remember thinking, "great, now I have this awful snowstorm to deal with," it seemed like one more dreary, wet thing--kind of like my mood. My cell phone rang, and I answered to hear my mom on the other end. She told me about my cousin who had been rushed up from Beaver to Salt Lake to the hospital. She had just delivered a baby girl and this sweet little baby was likely going to die. (Keep in mind, I had been raised with all of my cousins and they are more like siblings than cousins.) I told her I was already on my way to Salt Lake and I would stop in to visit her.
After the violin concert, Lindsey and I went to the hospital. We entered a very solemn hospital room. Young parents were tightly holding their precious child, cherishing each moment they had with her. Grandparents were watching their children suffer and contemplating the loss of a beautiful granddaughter. A "big sister" was holding the hand of a long awaited little sister. Words can't describe the feelings that were in that room, but my heart will never forget it. I can't remember the words that I said-- what can be said in this situation? But we talked for a little while. After a few moments, I had an overwhelming feeling that it was time to leave. I am told that not soon after we left, the others in the room left for various reasons; leaving mother, father and child alone. As the parents held their tiny treasure in their arms and looked into her face, she looked up and smiled at them and then peacefully left this earthly life.
When I walked out of that hospital room, I had a new perspective. The falling snow was no longer dreary but very peaceful. The busy city actually seemed quiet and at rest as the snow wrapped it in a blanket. The drive was no longer a bother, but an opportunity to spend time with my daughter. The frenetic scramble to give gifts was no longer a burden, but an opportunity to show love.
I returned home and hugged my children close to me, grateful that I could share this glorious season with them. I kissed my husband, thanking him for all he does. I peeked in on them later as they peacefully slept and studied their angelic faces. I sat up that night, looking at the twinkling lights, the brightly wrapped packages, and the stockings hung by the fireplace. Then I went to my knees and thanked my Father for allowing me to be part of such a beautiful and sacred experience. For teaching me a lesson that I needed to learn. And, most importantly, for reminding me what Christmas is all about. I thanked Him for the greatest gift, the gift of the Atonement that allows me to repent, to love, to understand, and to return to Him and to live with Him as part of an eternal family.
I close with the final thoughts of President Monson in the Christmas devotional, " With the pure love of Christ, let us walk in His footsteps as we approach the season celebrating His birth. As we do so, let us remember that He still lives and continues to be the Light of the World, who promised, “He that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.”5