If Christ Came at Christmas

Christmas. Whatever its pagan roots might have been, there is no doubting that there was a good and grand design in the creation of this Holy Day. It guaranteed that even the most decided atheist or rebellious sinner is reminded, once a year, of that name, Christ. And with that name the idea that in the darkest, coldest hours there is hope, love and assurance. He waits for them to reach out to Him.

For those of us who seek to always remember Christ, this season is more than a party. We come to this chapel each week to witness to our Heavenly Father not just our yearly remembrance of him, but our weekly, daily, hourly remembering of Him. We know of His sacrifice, what he accomplished, not just in this earth life, but in the pre-earth life and after his death.

In the words of Neal A. Maxwell, we know that He is,

"utterly incomparable in what He knows, what He has accomplished, and what He has experienced. Yet movingly He calls us His friends." That, "we can trust, worship and even adore him without any reservation! As the Perfect Person to sojourn on this Planet, there is  none like Him!"

For us, His disciples, Christmas is a time for us to remember the redeeming love we have felt and ask the question that Alma, the Book of Mormon prophet asked,

"if ye have experienced a change of heart, and if ye have felt to sing the song of redeeming love, I would ask, can ye feel so now?"

Can I feel so now? How do I lift Christmas above the regular daily, weekly, monthly worship?  Where do we find Christ at Christmas?

An interesting question; "where would I find Christ at Christmas?" If I were to answer that question literally, what would be the answer? If Christ came to our City of Preston this Christmas, where would he go? what would he do?

In preparation for this talk I decided to read through the Gospels once again to see if I could find clues to how He would plan His time when all the world celebrated His own birth.

The following are some of my suggestions of what Jesus’ schedule might include, providing scriptural reasons for my choices.

In 3 Nephi 11 Christ began His visit to the people of the Americas at the Temple in Bountiful. The people there did not know he was coming. But they were in the right place at the right time and as a result were blessed to hear the Father's voice from Heaven proclaiming His Son,

"Behold, My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased, in whom I have glorified my name - hear ye Him!"

And Christ would speak, saying as he did then,

"Behold, I am Jesus Christ, whom the prophets testified shall come into the world. And behold, I am the alight and the life of the world; and I have drunk out of that bitter bcup which the Father hath given me, and have glorified the Father in taking upon me the sins of the world, in the which I have suffered the will of the Father in all things from the beginning."

           

What would have been the chances of you being at the Temple that Christmas Eve when Christ would come, unannounced, unexpected? I am sure that the spirit would have prompted us. Would we have listened?

If you were one of those present at the time he arrived you would have been there before the crowds. He would have been so completely available to you, to speak with, to touch His hands, kiss His feet and wipe away tears of joy. He would have given instruction and counsel to be taken and shared with all those who love Him, but might not have been there at that moment.

So where would I find Christ at Christmas? Firstly, at the Temple.

            The next thing I imagine Christ doing is gathering His missionaries around him. A great, endowed, spiritual power rests with the full time missionaries. It comes because of the sacrifices they have made. Not so much the sacrifice of leaving family, friends and life behind, but rather in the far greater sacrifice of a disciplined daily life. It is their commitment to daily obedience to high ideals of living, to study the gospel every day, to look first to the welfare of others before themselves and to not take in any worldly influences and distractions. Principles we could all live up to, whether serving a full time mission or not.

            Whenever modern day apostles visit a country they always ask for the missionaries to be gathered, separate from the members, for them to meet and speak to. In the Provo MYC at Christmas, one apostle and his family will visit the Missionaries there and celebrate Christmas with them. I feel sure that this is not just to strengthen the missionaries themselves, but the apostles themselves feel the inspiration of these dedicated people.

            Being with missionaries who have dedicated themselves fully to their work is an inspiring place to be. I think of the many Christmas Day’s we have had the missionaries in our home, and how much we have missed them on the years they did not come. I can truly testify that, if you want the Spirit of Christ in your home, look no further than the missionaries. Having them in your home is to invite Christ within.

            In Mark 10:13-16 we read,

            “And they brought young children to him, that he should touch them: and his disciples rebuked those that brought them.

            But when Jesus saw it, he was much displeased, and said unto them, Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.

            Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein.

            And he took them up in his arms, put his hands upon them, and blessed them.”

            With the added knowledge of how Jesus blessed the children of the ancient Americas we can have no doubt that Christ would spend time with all the children at Christmas, and He would want it to be a good, long time. Playing with them, blessing them, answering their questions, talking to them, just being with them.

            How do we bring our children to Christ at Christmas? Are they interested more in toys and games? Do we allow them, and show them how to me blessed by His love for them?

            Whilst reading the Gospels I noted how much time Jesus spent in the wilderness.  In Mark 1:35 it reads,

            “And in the morning, rising up a great while before the day, he went our and departed  into a solitary place, and there prayed.”

            Sometimes Christ took others with him as he does in chapter 6: 31, 32.

            “And he said unto them, Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while: for there were many coming and going, and they had no leisure so much as to eat. And they departed into a desert place by ship privately.”

            Clearly there needed to be time away from the demands and the hustle and bustle for Christ and his disciples to pray, ponder and rejuvenate themselves. In the hustle and bustle of our Christmas comings and goings, will we determine to find a solitary place to pray, to tune ourselves into the spirit and quietly ponder and remember the feeling of love for the season? Perhaps we will find Christ in such a place, in the natural world, His marvelous creation, a wilderness of our own making and discovery.

            Throughout His mortal ministry Jesus was continually among the sick and afflicted. It is interesting to note that most of the time they were brought to him by others, family and friends, to be healed. The question I now find myself asking is;

            “Who would I bring to be healed?”

            In the past four months I have worked with the mentally and physically disabled, the neglected, elderly and homeless. At times I have found myself remembering this account in Mark 9.

            And one of the multitude answered and said, Master, I have brought unto thee my son, which hath a dumb spirit;

            And wheresoever he taketh him, he teareth him: and he foameth, and gnasheth with his teeth, and pineth away: and I spake to thy disciples that they should cast him out; and they could not.

            He answereth him, and saith, O faithless generation, how long shall I be with you? how long shall I suffer you? bring him unto me.

            And they brought him unto him: and when he saw him, straightway the spirit tare him; and he fell on the ground, and wallowed foaming.

            And he asked his father, How long is it ago since this came unto him? And he said, Of a child.

            And oft times it hath cast him into the fire, and into the waters, to destroy him: but if thou canst do any thing, have compassion on us, and help us.

            Jesus said unto him, If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth.

            And straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears, Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.

            When Jesus saw that the people came running together, he rebuked the foul spirit, saying unto him, Thou dumb and deaf spirit, I charge thee, come out of him, and enter no more into him.

            And the spirit cried, and rent him sore, and came out of him: and he was as one dead; insomuch that many said, He is dead.

            But Jesus took him by the hand, and lifted him up; and he arose.

            Perhaps this story come to mind mostly when I have spent time with those who are severely autistic as it sounds so familiar to some that I have encountered. I have realized though, as I spend time with them that this is where Jesus would be, healing these people.

            I am reminded of the man at the Pool in Bethesda being told to rise up, take his bed and walk. Of the blind receiving their sight. I have met so many who are sick, or poor, or ignorant of their true potential as sons and daughters of a loving God. People who would, I believe, if born into different circumstances would not live as they do now.

            As I ponder this question, ‘who would I bring to Christ at Christmas’, I begin remembering some of the times in the past months, experiences I have had with the people I have worked with and met.

            In a dementia unit I assisted a dear lady to get ready for bed. To help her off with her slippers I found myself kneeling at her feet and realized that I was kneeling as Christ must have done, at the feet of His disciples as he washed them. I felt a deep reverence for the lady I was helping and a great love for her as I wished her good night. Pondering that experience I have concluded that ordinary acts can become holy and meaningful simply by remembering Christ as we do them.

            Then there was the game of chess I played with a man in the homeless shelter. He didn’t smoke, drink or do drugs. He had studied art and showed me some of his beautiful work, but he was very humble about. I shared with him the idea of a pre-existence and the idea that God is literally the Father of our spirits. That we are here on this earth to become like him. I know that these thoughts have begun to take root in his heart, because he told me so the next time I saw him.

            One young lad I met in accommodation for young people at risk of homelessness. He was one of those loud, foul mouthed and violent eyed youths you walk on the other side of the road to avoid. Once he stopped swearing and blustering for a brief moment and, noticing me said, something like,

            ‘you must think I’m a right ….., always moaning and swearing whenever you are around.’ With a smile, hiding the nervousness for how he might take my response I said,

            ‘Yep!’

            He laughed and we ended up having a good conversation. I told him that I could see that his anger came from the frustration of feeling that life was not supposed to be like this. That he felt he was capable of great things, but life just wasn’t giving him the chance to prove it. He looked a bit stunned and didn’t say anything after that, until his mates turned up and  he yelled at them about 'being careful of that woman, she can see right through you'. He turned out to be a polite and pleasant young man.

            Just this past week I went carol singing with friends in Preston town centre. I can’t say that I know we brought anyone closer to Christ. However it ended up that we didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to stop singing, though our voices were dying and it was cold and wet.  We didn’t want to leave because we had caught a hold of a feeling we didn’t want to let go of. The spirit of Christ.

            We need to bring people to Christ, but the success of our efforts is not always the most important outcome. The most interesting thing about at least making the attempt is that you end up bringing yourself to Christ.

            In Matthew 25 Jesus taught,

When the Son of man shall come in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then shall he sit upon the throne of his glory:

And before him shall be gathered all nations: and he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats:

And he shall set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on the left.

Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world:

For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:

Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.

            Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink?

            When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee?

            Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee?

            And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

            It has been odd, growing older with no family of my own, while my younger brothers and sisters have married and now have their own families. I am both part of them and not, which has often meant feeling displaced at Christmas, and the season has actually lost a lot of its excitement.

            However, two Christmas’ ago I decided to be part of a charitable opportunity in London which happens every year, called ‘Crisis at Christmas’. For about ten days over the Christmas season, four centers around London take in the homeless, or those that were once, or who are lonely, and invite them to have good food, new clothes, to get washed and cleaned, a hair cut, to see the dentist and doctor, mix with volunteers, listen to live music and actually celebrate Christmas. I took part and did an afternoon shift on Christmas day.

            I can’t say that I did anything particularly brilliant or had any grand emotional experience. I had a few interesting conversations with people who had once been homeless. But I did discover a new ‘Christmassy feeling’.

            This feeling was nothing like the childish excitement I remember feeling and believe a lot of adults long to return to and try to relive through their children and grand children. It was a very quiet and feeling I had to ponder on for a while before I could realize what it was.

            I am sure you have felt that feeling of anti-climax and the end of Christmas Day. So many people have told me they prefer Christmas Eve because of the anticipation that comes with it, rather that the feeling of ‘well that’s another Christmas done with’ that comes at the end of Christmas Day.

            The feeling I had at the end of that Christmas was the complete absence of anticlimax, replaced with a sense of satisfaction, wholeness and completeness. It wasn’t a strong, overwhelming, emotional feeling. In fact I could have missed it. It felt good, I felt satisfied.

            So what is my conclusion?

            If you have found yourself less excited about Christmas than you would like to be, maybe you need to consider changing the way you celebrate it. Maybe only in small ways, maybe in large sacrifices. But examing how we celebrate Christmas may well lead us to examine how we can better live our lives as true disciples of Christ. It may mean judging others less, having Christ in our thoughts more, or spending less time with good things and more with the very best of things.

            I know that for myself, the words in Matthew are true. As I have begun to seek to serve more, rather than to indulge my appetites, I have discovered myself closer to Christ, walking beside Him, with more of His comfort in my heart.

Olympic Flame!

I have been waiting for this next adventure for seven years. 


The news that London had one the Olympic bid came to me about two days late since I was in Guatemala at that time, and I hadn't been to the one small internet cafe in San Andres for a few days. In fact, I learnt about the London bombings first from locals who told me about it. I went online to learn more and thus discovered the older news of the won bid. I admit, the horror of the bombings didn't quite hit home, for which I have always felt a little guilty.


The then Mayor of London, Ken Livingstone, got it right when he spoke after the attack about the Olympics coming here to this city being a symbol of that reality, that differing ideals and peoples can live in harmony in one place.


 I love London, I love England, I love the Olympic games with a determined defiance of all the cynical opinions that are attracted to it like mosquitoes to a very bright, sun lit flame. May they all be burned!!! Humanity is not perfect, yes, we all know that, very clever of those who like to make a living pointing that out. But our potential... that's what it points towards. What we could, should, and have to believe we shall, one day be, a human race united, celebrating our love for one another across all divides.


So, since there was little chance of my becoming a world champion archer in seven years (yes, I actually looked into it as my only option for competing), the next best option was to be a volunteer. So, as soon as they asked for people to signal their interest online, I did so.


For seven years the only response I ever got was emails saying... 'we haven't forgotten about you'. My parents were called for interviews in Manchester, but I wasn't. I went to America with the very real worry that I would be called for interview whilst there and so miss out. But thankfully that was one sacrifice I was not asked to make.


It wasn't until April this year that I got an email with an apology for not being given a chance to be interviewed and then a query as to my further interest in being involved. Of course I hit YES!

And so I then received my assignment as an NOC Assistant and Driver at the Rowing and Canoeing Village at the Royal Holloway University. Driver training followed, then uniform issue, which was fun, venue training and then my assignment to ...


LATVIA!!!


How randomly exciting is that!


So I have been trying to find out more about Lativa. I now know its flag, but can't find out much about the rowing team. I will meet my chief de mission on Thursday for the first time, and then... who knows what they will have be doing! But I shall be proud to be cheering on Latvia, since I love supporting an underdog, and England is definitely not the underdog in the rowing! 


The wait is nearly over, the flame is nearing its throne. Its going to be great!

What Came Next...?

Questions, questions, questions, that is always what comes next. For the following two months I was plagued by them. They went along these lines, familiar to most of us...

Is this IT?

Would I ever really be happy living in America if I had to?

Do I even want to get married?

DO you love me? Do I love YOU?

Why did you do that? Why did I say THAT?

IS this it?

Do I try and extend my stay by hopping over the Canadian border and back or just go home to England?

That one was answered by the Canadian border US immigration officials... go home!

So I went home.

But the question remained and being an ocean apart did not bring any new clarity. Did my heart grow fonder in absence? At the time I thought it did.

I was persuaded to return a month later for another two months. In an effort to find the money I sold (sacrificed) my chocolate tempering machine to ebay. Tried to sell my books at a car boot sale but ended up being given more to take home. Waited tables one evening for a rather decadent County Council function, all in an effort to raise money for charity... I mean for my trip back to the States and finding my answer.

Somehow the money was found and I was sent back, braving US immigration officials who were definitely not as friendly on my return trip.

Within a week of my return I had my answer... NO!

A week of disbelief followed asking .... Really!? Followed by an even more emphatic, NO!

So much effort to obtain such a short, emphatic and unexpected answer. But it was the right answer, I couldn't deny that.

Thankfully, although my plans came to naught, Heavenly Father always had his ready, up his sleeve, waiting for me. I found myself a Spanish teacher who also became a friend, went to a life drawing class at BYU every Friday morning for three hours and worked in a chocolate factory four days a week. I attended a ward that made me feel so incredibly welcome. Made and discovered friends who had always been there, waiting for me to turn my attention to them.

There were the Z's who rescued me that first week after being dumped, took me to their extended family and allowed me to feel as though I belonged somewhere, not a that legal alien I felt myself to be. There was the day in Salt Lake I spent with Debbi, our long detailed conversations and stories, Indian food and an Autumn concert.

There were the pumpkins that invaded everyone's doorsteps and webs that strung from trees a whole month before Halloween. The beautiful colours of autumn on the mountains. Walking to church, watching my neighbours heading in the same direction. The BYU bells singing 'Come, Come Ye Saints' and echoing against the mountains. The first snow fall, getting a free seat in a sold out concert.

The sweet deliciousness of all these experiences and others is now off set with the salty regret of leaving it all behind. Especially leaving friendships too new and untested to trust in their depth. I wish I could stay to try them, but really, I can't.

It feels poignant that I am leaving on Thanksgiving week. No time should be spent on wondering why things didn't end up the way I thought they should have. I only want to remember all the good that has happened, say thank you and then move on trusting that whatever comes next, it will be even better!

Christ in America

There was one part in the Manti Pageant I felt drawn to be a part of. During the scenes of Christ in America, a few were assigned to come forward and touch the Saviours hands. I wanted to be one of them.

As I considered how I would feel when that time will eventually come, it brought to remembrance a discussion that took place many years ago, in youth Sunday School. The discussion was around the question of; how would we each greet Jesus if he were to appear at church today?

The one response that made me think the most was, that they would hug him like a brother, freely and familiar, because Christ wouldn’t want us to feel uncomfortable. Whilst I agreed that Christ wanted us to feel welcome in his presence, I found the complete lack of awe in such a response, a hug, decidedly disappointing. Would this really be our natural response to being in the presence of the One Being who above all others embodies supreme Holiness?

Christ holds many titles and roles in our lives. Recongising only one, or a few can mean missing significant other blessings that bring us closer to him. For example, remembering Christ as my brother makes Him approachable. Thinking of Him as our Judge, distances us from Him. Both are valuable and needed, to deny either one is to not fully embrace all the love He offers.

The scriptures clearly state that when He comes a second time there will be those who will rejoice and that there will be those who will want the mountains and rocks to fall on them that they might hide from what they perceive to be His wrath. (Rev 6:15-17) One group of people will feel joy and triumph. Others will feel His anger.

Consider how we might sometimes feel in the presence of someone who is incredibly more beautiful than us. Often, there are those who suddenly feel themselves less attractive, even ugly, when before they had not thought so. Some might be inspired to do better at presenting themselves more beautifully, whilst others feel threatened and shrink away. They chose to associate themselves with people who look like themselves, who are unthreatening. A similar response might be had when confronted with highly intelligent people. We are suddenly faced with our ignorance. Many times we just completely lack the ability to rise to a higher level and we remain excluded.

Imagine then, being in the presence of One whose defining quality is complete goodness. Someone who has never put a foot wrong and is filled with the most incredible intense love. A being who has experienced extreme torture and pain on your behalf and feels no bitterness towards you for it. Someone whose name you, and others around you, had used as a cuss word. Had ignored. Now, suddenly there this man is before you.

No matter how cavalier society has become in the use of His name and the study and understanding of His identity, when we come face to face with such goodness, such forgiveness and loving kindness in the face of so much hate, we shall all want to shrink. Before Him none are good. We shall experience discomfort, guilt and shame.

All the bad, miserable little traits of which we were only half aware or stubbornly justified, will suddenly be thrown into stark contrast with the depth of His character, His love and His wholeness. How pitiful we will feel.

But then He will say, as He did then,

“Come, feel the prints of the nails in my hands and in my feet.”

An offer of such intimate friendship. He says, in effect,

“Feel the scars that were made because of your sins, your badness. These are the tokens of the price that was paid, for you to be free from this guilt, free from these feelings of inadequacy, of the need to justify yourself and free from fear of not being loved.”

To touch the Saviours hands, to touch those scars, the symbol of the price He paid for me, I would not hug him. I would do as those Nephites of old did, kiss his feet and shout Hosanna!

It is amazing to me that the One being in whose presence we shall feel most insignificant, will raise us up to understand our truest, grandest, most eternal worth.

I am sorry, but a hug would not suffice.

Whilst these were the kind of thoughts that my own mind thought through each night we portrayed Christ’s visit to America it was clear that not all participants had the same feelings. It is a hard thing to keep something fresh and real when it is repeated so many times.

Noticing those who lost focus, got distracted or just put in a half hearted effort into their part made me wonder. What is the problem here? Why aren’t they feeling it?

The spirit whispered to me the answer.

They do not believe that their role, in a huge crowd of others, is important or significant. They do not believe that what they do matters. They under value themselves.

At the closing testimony meeting on the Sunday after the last performance this is what I spoke of. . I testified that every person mattered, that their spirit always contributes to a great whole, either bringing it higher or keeping it low. It’s a principle to remember for life, not just for pageants.

Manti Pageant in Picture

New England

James 1 v 5

First Vision, Angel Moroni

Translation

The Book of Mormon

Samuel the Lamanite

Christ in America

Mormon and Moroni

Pioneer Scenes

Robert dies, Mary comes to bring him home. Angels pronounce the truth, death is not the end!

... because a boy of fourteen went into the woods to pray.

Pageant!

I entered the Chapel alone. Immediately in front of me was the empty end of the back pew. At the other end a small group of young women were chattering, I asked them if the seat were taken. They shook their heads and then went back to their giggling, happy conversation. The room was crammed, the noise of friendships and comfortable associations reminding me of home, of being one amongst such a crowd. But in this moment I was a single, lone entity, completely unknown and unattached, sitting on the end of a pew, unnoticed.

The friendliest face in this large crowd was the one who stood up to begin the meeting. President Doug Barton, pageant President and the one who had brought me down from Salt Lake City. He has the kind of smile that glows like all year Christmas. He had brought me to his home where he and his wife, Mary Ann, had introduced me to all his family, eight children, four of whom were married and three of whom had children. It was quite a crowd, all of whom were interested to know why I had come, how long I was staying and what I thought of America so far. Now that happy welcome was set aside, I arrived on my own, sidling into a noisy crowd, unseen.

Abruptly, that status changed. A part of the way through the meeting President Barton mentioned some of the things special to this pageant, starting with the oldest participant, who is eighty something. He then mentioned the furthest travelled participant, me. He asked me to stand so that everyone knew me, and in that very short moment the whole throng of people knew me, turned to stare at me, standing at the end of my pew. Ice had been very firmly broken. From then on people would come up to remark on my accent, and a conversation could begin, and in some cases, a friendship soon after.

The first week of Pageant involved evening rehearsals at the local Stake Centre where we walked through our entrances and exits, our positions and postures. During the first week I became acquainted with the local town, its library, few shops and the Barton Family. I found myself cheering for the Mavericks with Brad some evenings and climbing the lighting towers to install lights for the pageant. I learnt to drive on the right hand side of the road on a golf cart, which was a lot easier than I had thought it would be.

I slowly put together the significance of roles such as Angels and Warriors, Harvesters and New Englanders and the structure and story that the Pageant told became clear. It was acted out to a recording that had been made about 40 years before and was narrated in the style of an old Charlton Heston type movie. It began thus...

"“A singular event can set in motion a chain of events that covers years, even centuries and effects the lives of millions of people. Such an event occurred in 1820 when a boy of fourteen went into the woods to pray.

Tonight you will see a story unfold that is based upon one such event. It is not a story that can be told dispassionately, for it is a true story, coloured by the hues of heroic drama; by the violence of life and death, by sublime faith; deep and moving tragdies; by curse, prayer, temple and tomahawk, for this is the story of the Mormon Miracle!”

The trumpets sound for the first scene, confusion in New England over the subject of religion. The scenes of Joseph's vision are simple and beautiful. My favourite scenes were the Book of Mormon scenes which begin with Moroni appearing on the top of the Manti Temple, trumpet in hand, quite a spectacular sight. Christ in America was always going to be the most powerful and I found much to contemplate being in those scenes. Joseph Smiths martyrdom is always moving and then the death of the main characters who illustrate the truth of life beyond death as, dressed in white they ascend the steps to 'heaven' as angels appear on the hillside to welcome them home. It is a wonderful, moving finale.

One particular family of friends I made that first week was the Cutler Family from Colorado. Alison, the mum, Hannah, thirteen years old and John 11 years old. Together we spent one particularly memorable afternoon at the pioneer house/museum, putting ourselves back in time and imagining what it must have been like to live all those many years ago, fearing attacks by Indians and diseases that killed so quickly and easily.

Pioneer houses stood at the corner of each block of the town, some of them still used, sometimes clad over or extended on. Others looking partially or completely abandoned. Discarded farming machinery was easily found in peoples gardens, used as decoration, or left lying wherever it had last been used.

When dress rehearsals for the pageant began, it seemed as thought the very ghosts of these pioneers had suddenly come alive. They walked again on Temple Hill, dressed in bonnets and coats. As the pageant recounted trials and persecutions those early saints I was able to look at the town which they had founded and realised that I was looking at the fruits of their sacrifices… their children, living in peace and remembering their ancestors in dramatic representation. Hearts of the fathers and children, each turning to the other in an eternal circle of love and belonging. It felt significant too that 600 of these 950 participants were under the age of eighteen, youth learning of the legacy of their great grandparents.

It was seeing the power of this remembering in particular that made me think of the legacy which we have in England, of the early apostles preaching here, the children of those Utah pioneers who continue to return to England, to share the gospel, as missionaries.

I know that most of these youth were not thinking of this, the pageant linking them closely to past generations in a spirit of love and unity, but I could feel it nonetheless. When I spoke to those who were older, I discovered that they knew it, felt it too. They were that previous generation of participating youth who now acknowledged the power of the legacy they held. Thinking of the English Mormon history it made me think and begin to hunger… I want to see a Pageant in England!

Connection, Friendship, Love

There are times in my life when a single strong theme seems to stand out, demanding my attention, showing me how the Principles of Life are lived at their grandest and best. All of the Great Principles of Happiness effect one another, but when one becomes illuminated in a greater light certain others become more greatly enhanced. At this time in life its all about connection, friendship and love.

To fully explain I need to begin at the age of thirteen. That year my family moved from the South of England, to the North. We held a big farewell party that was quite an event. I remember feeling that this farewell party was a very final division that would never be reached across ever again. Maybe that feeling became a self fulfilling prophecy because after the move, although there were attempts to keep in touch, people, rather quickly, let go of me, just as I let go of them.

This happened again two years later when we moved from East Lancashire to West Lancashire. I had friends with whom we promised to keep in touch , but it didn’t happen. Friends made at my third high school and then at university all faded away.

There was one friend I made during University years that did hold on to me, supporting me through my mission, and that was Barbara. She was the first one who really taught me that there are people who don’t see distance and time as an obstacle. However, later on in life, during my two years in Leeds, we dropped out of touch for a bit and contact has been sporadic at best.

In the fourteen years since I left Norwich I had many other opportunities to leave friends behind. There was my mission, which actually I did do slightly better at keeping in touch with people. But only marginally. There were my work colleagues in Leeds and the friends I made in Guatemala whilst volunteering. All meant something to me at the time but that meaning seemed to fade away with time and distance. It seemed that life had taught me that only family went with you, friendship was simply a temporary convenience. But I have slowly become aware that for many other people this just isn’t the case. And they weren’t always living in the same place either.

Is real friendship that lasts very rare because people just aren’t willing to put in the effort? Or are people we actually make deep connections with very rare? Or are my/our expectations of true friendship very narrow? Is continued contact necessary for real friendship to exist or is it possible that loose connections can be as valuable as tight ones?

I believe that I am discovering that any connection, however neglected, however thin, always remains. I think I have found this most strongly epitomized in the story of my Great Aunt Amelia.

This aunt, born around 1908 was injured in a tram accident when she was in her early twenties. She suffered brain damage and was institutionalised. I know only that my grandfather, her brother in law, ever visited her, but he died in the early 1970’s. My mother and her sisters, Aunt Amelia’s nieces, were told nothing or very little about her. It was assumed, because of her condition, that she must have died.

However, early this year one of my cousins found her death certificate. She died in the year 2000, outliving her two brothers and passing away only a few months before her little sister, my nan. That was 70 years of life, mostly unconnected to her family, the people who should have loved and looked after her. Where was the connection? Where was the friendship? Where was the love?

In February 2003 my brother Samuel and his wife Vicky, welcomed their first child, a daughter, into their family and named her Amelia, after our Great Aunt. Amelia was born four months prematurely and suffered brain damage resulting in cerebral palsy. She spent many months in the hospital during which my mother claimed often to have felt that Great Aunt Amelia was there, as a spirit, guarding and protecting little Amelia with perfect empathy for her condition. In Amelia we sometimes wonder if we see something of that lost Aunt, the same strength and beauty of spirit in the face of such difficulty. Although I have never met her I know that I love that Great Aunt Amelia and cant wait to one day meet her for real.

The Connection, the Friendship and the Love, is always there, even beyond death. If a life of isolation, followed by an un-mourned death does not brake a connection then why should I remain in this habit of believing that most farewells, in this life, are final?

This time as I move on to whatever comes next, I am holding on to the people I have come to know, respect and love. My friends from work, who inspire me so much with their concern for others, are waiting until I get back from my America trip before our next ‘Come Dine With Me’ evening. The friends I shared a house with in London, the Zibriskies, whom I will visit with whilst here in America, perfect examples of friends who never let go. A work colleague from Leeds who got back in contact with me and Barbara whom I have recently started chatting to again; I know that the nature of our communication will change, but the connection is still there, always there, always based on friendship and love.

As I begin to really truly value and look for these connections I find myself starting to see new ones I had never appreciated before. My connection to my country for example, and then to the world, as I walked down The Mall in London on the night before the Royal Wedding. People were connecting and recognising each other as I have never seen before. I guess that is a potential power that all weddings hold, the power to bring people together in joy and recognise how we are related in one great family.

And in just these last few hours I have seen most clearly the connections of friendship and family within those of my church. I have arrived in Manti, a rural Utah community, and been so welcomed and looked after that I feel overwhelmingly humbled. I am a stranger, but I have been taken in.

I feel that I am at the beginning of learning the art, skill and spirit of a type friendship that reaches out to anyone, no matter what depth of the relationship, the personality, circumstance or distance. The type of friendship that is based on a love of all. I believe I shall be a diligent student with such an abundance of inspiring teachers around me.