its your choice (Gordon B. Hinckley)

“You can be smart and happy or stupid and miserable. . . it’s your choice”


Gordon B. Hinckley 

a personal citadel

Each good man has in himself a quiet place wherein he lives however torn seemingly by the passions of the world. That is his citadel, which must be kept inviolate against assaults. That quiet place must be founded upon a rock and the rock must be a belief, a fervent and passionate belief, in the existence of the ultimate good, and a willingness to put forth his strength against the ultimate evil.


-Dr. Foster Kennedy

The Race

THE RACE

I

“Quit! Give up! You’re beaten!”

They shout at me and plead.

“There’s just too much against you now.

This time you can’t succeed!”

And as I start to hang my head

In front of failure’s face

My downward fall is broken by

The memory of a race.

And hope refills my weakened will

As I recall that scene

For just the thought of that short race

Rejuvenates my being.

II

A children’s race; young boys, young men

How I remember it well.

Excitement, sure! But also fear.

It wasn’t hard to tell.

They all lined up, so full of hope

Each thought to win that race.

Or tie for first, or it not that

At least take second place.

And fathers watched from off the side

Each cheering for his son

And each boy hoped to show his dad

That he would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they went

Young hearts and hopes afire

To win and be the hero there

Was each young boy’s desire.

And one boy in particular

Whose dad was in the crowd

Was running near the lead and thought:

“My dad will be so proud!”

But as they speeded down the field

Across a shallow dip

The little boy who thought to win

Lost his step and slipped.

Trying hard to catch himself

His hands flew out to brace

And mid the laughter of the crowd

           He fell flat on his face.

So down he fell and with him hope

–He could not win it now–

Embarrassed, sad, he only wished

To disappear somehow.

But as he fell his dad stood up

And showed his anxious face

Which to the boy so clearly said:

“Get up and win the race!”

He quickly rose, no damage done.

–Behind a bit, that’s all–

And ran with all his mind and might

To make up for his fall.

So anxious to restore himself

–To catch up and to win–

His mind went faster than his legs:

He slipped and fell again!

He wished then he had quit before

With only one disgrace

“I’m hopeless as a runner, now;

I shouldn’t try to race.”

But in the laughing crowd he searched

And found his father’s face

That steady look which said again:

“Get up and win the race!”

So up he jumped to try again

–Ten yards behind the last

“If I’m to gain those yards I’ve lost

I’ve got to move real fast.”

Exerting everything he had

He regained eight or ten

But trying so hard to catch the crowd

He slipped and fell again.

Defeat! He lied there silent

–A tear dropped from his eye

“There’s no sense running anymore

Three strikes; I’m out, why try?”

The will to rise had disappeared

All hope had fled away

So far behind; so error prone

A loser all the way.

“I’ve lost, so what’s the use,” he thought

“I’ll live with my disgrace

But then he thought about his dad

Who soon he’d have to face.

“Get up.” An echo sounded low

“Get up and take your place.”

“You were not meant for failure here.”

“Get up and win the race!”

“With borrowed will get up,” it said

“You haven’t lost at all,”

“For winning is no more than this,”

“To rise each time you fall.”

So up he rose to run once more

And with a new commit

He resolved that win or lose

At least he wouldn’t quit.

So far behind the others now

–The most he’d ever been

Still he gave it all he had

And ran as though to win.

Three times he’d fallen, stumbling,

Three times he rose again

To far behind to hope to win

He still ran to the end.

They cheered the winning runner

As he crossed the line first place,

Head high, and proud, and happy

No falling; no disgrace.

But when the fallen youngster

Crossed the line last place

The crowd gave him the greater cheer

For finishing the race.

And even though he came in last

With head bowed low, unproud,

            You would have thought he won the race

To listen to the crowd.

And to his dad he sadly said

“I didn’t do so well.”

“To me, you won,” his father said

“You rose each time you fell.”

III

And now when life seems dark and hard

And difficult to face

The memory of that little boy

Helps me in my race.

For all of life is like that race

With it’s ups and downs and all

And all you have to do to win

Is rise each time you fall.

“Quit! Give up! You’re beaten!”

They still shout in my face.

But another voice within me says:

“Get up and win the race!”

D. H. GROBERG

Answers to prayer–Ether Chapter 2

See other blog:  Answers to Prayer (Mormon Stuff)

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Walking in the light, wisdom and power of God

The man who so walks in the light and wisdom and power of God, will at the last, by the very force of association, make the light and wisdom and power of God his own—weaving those bright rays into a chain divine, linking himself forever to God and God to him. This [is] the sum of Messiah’s mystic words, “Thou, Father, in me, and I in thee”—beyond this human greatness cannot achieve.

B. H. Roberts, “Brigham Young: A Character Sketch,” Improvement Era, June 1903, 574.

Two precious gifts

Life offers you two precious gifts—one is time, the other freedom of choice, the freedom to buy with your time what you will. You are free to exchange your allotment of time for thrills. You may trade it for base desires. You may invest it in greed…Yours is the freedom to choose. But these are no bargains, for in them you find no lasting satisfaction.

Every day, every hour, every minute of your span of mortal years must sometime be accounted for. And it is in this life that you walk by faith and prove yourself able to choose good over evil, right over wrong, enduring happiness over mere amusement. And your eternal reward will be according to your choosing.

A prophet of God has said: “Men are that they might have joy”—a joy that includes a fullness of life, a life dedicated to service, to love and harmony in the home, and the fruits of honest toil—an acceptance of the Gospel of Jesus Christ—of its requirements and commandments.

Only in these will you find true happiness, the happiness which doesn’t fade with the lights and the music and the crowds.

Richard L. Evans, “Man’s Search for Happiness” (pamphlet, 1969), 4–5.