We are thrilled to be here today. Last evening we flew in over the Grand Teton Mountains and had a beautiful view of the highest peaks. They are majestic.
We have never been in Rexburg before, so we are feeling rather new. That’s good! It’s a treat for an old couple in their 50s to feel a little bit new!
President Clark and I feel that we are here on an errand from the Lord, as are all of you.
I was born and raised on a small farm in Waterflow, New Mexico. In that desert climate it took a lot of effort to make things grow. My father worked hard irrigating the orchard, garden, and hay fields so that the family and the farm animals would have food to eat.
Because water turns were regulated, when it was our turn for taking water, Dad would spend hours out with his shovel guiding the water through the ditches, letting it run for just the right amount of time onto each thirsty piece of the farm. There was no extra time to turn the water onto the yard for a lawn, so we had a yard of hard-packed dirt paths, sandstone, sagebrush, and a few lilacs and hollyhocks that my mother watered by carrying water from the ditch. A few cottonwood and elm trees grew beside the ditch in front of the house to provide us with shade. It was a wonderful playground.
But . . .
I always dreamed that some day we would move into town where we could have a yard with sidewalks and lawns. Then we could walk out of the house without getting our shoes muddy on a rainy day, and my sisters and I could practice our somersaults and cartwheels in soft green grass on sunny days.
One spring as we were playing in the yard, we could see off in the distance the alfalfa field where the new grass looked just like the beautiful lawn of which we had always dreamed. That field beckoned to us; so we found our way across the cattle pasture to the barbed-wire fence surrounding the field, and with some effort we were able to work the wire back and forth until it loosened enough so that we could squeeze through without ripping our clothes on the barbs. There we were in that beautiful sea of grass!
We learned quickly, however, that it wasn’t what it seemed. One attempt at executing a somersault revealed that the ground underneath that grass was uneven and full of ruts and gullies. We investigated a little further into the field and were unable to find what we were looking for. But we had a good romp in the grass there anyway.
That night when Dad came in for dinner we were in trouble. He had noticed a trampled corner of the alfalfa field and on closer inspection discovered where we had loosened the fence. He explained, not too calmly, that a trampled field of alfalfa would yield very little hay and that the loosened fence might allow a breakthrough by the cows that would further trample the grass and they would become very sick from eating the green alfalfa.
We said we were sorry and that we wouldn’t do it again. “Besides,” we said, “that field is all full of ruts and gullies and is very bumpy—not at all good for playing in.”
I’m sure Dad chuckled at our naiveté—and was glad to know that his fields would be safe from us in the future.
I understand now that he was grateful for and appreciated those ruts and gullies in the alfalfa. They were absolutely essential to the health of the grass. They facilitated the efficient flow of the irrigation water through the field, allowing it to pool at just the right places where the grass roots could get their life-giving drinks.
I grew up and left the farm and went to BYU. There I found sidewalks and green lawns aplenty. For four years I spent hours walking those sidewalks in every kind of weather without getting my shoes muddy. Though I was tempted, I never did try somersaults and cartwheels on those beautiful lawns, but I did often enjoy a relaxing rest there.
Had I found the home of my dreams? Well, not exactly. You see, life at BYU had some ruts and gullies. In fact, I have found that every time I have passed on to the next stage of life I have found ruts and gullies.
At BYU the field of marriage beckoned to me, and I soon found myself married to a poor student who dragged me off to live in Boston. There were some ruts and gullies in adjusting to marriage and living in the city far away from home.
Soon the pastures of motherhood called; and as I awaited the birth of our first baby, I anticipated that it would be like a perfect dream come true! But guess what! You got it—ruts and gullies! Our sweet baby had colic and cried for hours every day for the first nine months of his life.
By the time the youngest of our seven children (twin girls) were potty trained, the respite I had looked forward to after 13 years of changing diapers (without disposables) was filled with the whirlwind of teenagers.
Last summer we had a perfect summer planned. Two of our sons were getting married, and we would fill our now empty nest with all of our children and grandchildren at each wedding. It would be a perfect summer. And we truly did have two wonderful gatherings and two wonderful weddings: the first in May in the Salt Lake Temple and the second in August in the Mesa Temple.
But something else happened last summer.
One week after the first wedding, one of our twin daughters found a huge lump in her neck and came home for tests. It was determined that she had Hodgkin’s disease, a type of cancer of the lymph nodes. She began a regimen of treatment by chemotherapy on June 1.
Then in August, just a week before the second wedding, I found out that I would need to soon have major surgery to remove cancer from my colon.
The timing of both illnesses allowed us to have our wonderful family gatherings at both weddings, and Julia still had hair for the family pictures in August! What a blessing! In fact, the wonderful blessings we have received and the growth we experienced individually and as a family are immeasurable.
It was a perfect alfalfa field summer. The ruts and gullies facilitated the flow of the living waters of our Savior Jesus Christ as we sought Him through our trials.
Let me refer you to the story in the New Testament where Jesus offers living water to the woman of Samaria at Jacob’s well:
Now Jacob’s well was there. Jesus therefore, being wearied with his journey, sat thus on the well: and it was about the sixth hour.
There cometh a woman of Samaria to draw water: Jesus saith unto her, Give me to drink.
(For his disciples were gone away unto the city to buy meat.)
Then saith the woman of Samaria unto him, How is it that thou, being a Jew, askest drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria? for the Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans.
Jesus answered and said unto her, If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water.
The woman saith unto him, Sir, thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep: from whence then hast thou that living water?
Art thou greater than our father Jacob, which gave us the well, and drank thereof himself, and his children, and his cattle?
Jesus answered and said unto her, Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again:
But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life (John 4:6-14).
I know that as we are beckoned by the alfalfa fields of life, and only cross into those fields that keep us on our errand from the Lord, we will find that our ruts and gullies facilitate the flow of the living waters of our Savior Jesus Christ to nourish the way.
I bear you my testimony that I know our Savior knows us and loves us. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.