The Cry of The Trumpet

There is an old story about a traveler who set out on a long road toward Home. Not the house he grew up in.   Not the place where his mail was delivered.   But the deeper Home—the one every soul remembers even if it cannot describe it.   The place of rest, clarity, and belonging.   The place where the heart finally exhales. The traveler knew the way in theory.   But the road was long, and like most long roads, it tested him. Some days he walked with purpose.   Other days he dragged his feet.   And on the hardest days, he grew cranky, impatient, and angry—   not because he was a bad man,   but because he was tired. Tired of the dust.   Tired of the detours.   Tired of watching others take shortcuts that looked easier, even if they didn’t lead anywhere good. One afternoon, after a particularly frustrating stretch, he slumped beneath a tree and muttered,   “I ...

There is a long history of saints carrying on and pushing forward with a calm determination in the face of opposition from the adversary. I see it in Nephi, who when his bow was broken could have railed at his fate and misfortune. Certainly it was an inconvenience and disappointment at the very least. But he did not turn to anger. Instead, he got to work. He calmly and purposely pushed on, determined not to be deterred or discouraged. He crafted a bow of wood and sought instruction regarding next steps from the Lord. He did not let the adversary win even a small part of his attention for frustration or anger. I know many pioneers crossing the plains did likewise. I admire that calm fortitude and wish more of us could pass by opportunities to become frustrated and instead just get to work, even when it requires rework.  1 Nephi 16