Welcome.

Our little dog, Lily, loves the snow. But in May around these parts, I don’t like using that four-lettered word. Of equal joy to Lily, in a different season, is the sun. She loves it, too.

On unclouded and sunlit days, our back door allows a nice stream of sunshine to flicker through the glass. Lily loves to lay down on the kitchen floor there and soak up the sun.

The other morning she was getting her beauty sleep there in that spot, and I had the thought that I would gently pick her up and put her on a softer surface, perhaps to add to her comfort. Before I executed my plan Father sent me this thought, “Don’t take it from her.” The expression caused me to pause, and I’ve been pondering it ever since then.

“Don’t take it from her.”

Basking in the sun is a joy to Lily. She loves it. It brings her warmth and comfort, happiness, and a feeling of “all is well.” I am contented she can have that, and never again will I consider taking it from her.

What I have considered, though, as I’ve pondered the phrase, “Don’t take it from her,” is the fact that in His perfection, God, too, believes in not taking some things from us at times and at other times, taking things from us – both to increase our joy on one hand and to support our growth on the other.

I love these words of Elder Holland:

“For every infirm man healed instantly

as he waits to enter the Pool of Bethesda,

someone else will spend 40 years in the desert

waiting to enter the promised land.

For every Nephi and Lehi divinely protected

by an encircling flame of fire for their faith,

we have an Abinadi burned at a stake of flaming

fire for his. And we remember that the same

Elijah who in an instant called down fire from heaven

to bear witness against the priests of Baal is the same

Elijah who endured a period when there was no rain

for years and who, for a time, was fed only

by the skimpy sustenance that could be carried

in a raven’s claw.” (Holland, J., “Waiting on the Lord,”

October 2020 General Conference)

And so it goes. From some, it is taken; from some, it is not. Even God’s holy Son, the personification of perfection, wasn’t spared the worst suffering of us all. Himself sinless, He was voluntarily laden with the sins of billions upon billions. What a staggering shock that must have been! What a crushing weight! But He didn’t shrink, and why should we?

“Father, His Only Begotten supplicated, “if thou be willing, remove this cup from me; nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done.” (Luke 22:42)

But Father wasn’t willing, and His ever obedient Son drank it up, bitter as it was.

Father did not take it from Him. And so He does not take many hard things from us. Elder Holland offers the truth as straightforwardly as I’ve ever heard it put:

“…sooner or later we learn that the times

and seasons of our mortal journey

are His and His alone to direct. He administers

that calendar to every one of us individually.”

(Holland, J., “Waiting on the Lord,”

October 2020 General Conference)

So let us trust in our calendar, as controlled by Him. He wants only our eternal happiness which sometimes leads through valleys of mortal sorrow. We want relief. He wants renewal. We want cessation. He wants celestial. We want healing. He wants soul wholeness, whether healed in mortality or not.

Whatever the time and season of your mortal journey, be still. God’s got it.

“Don’t take it from her.”

Perhaps. Perhaps not. No matter.

Unto all the world: In the end, the faithful have the very sure promise of compensation, celestial, and complete and everlasting joy.