Thoughts on Beauty, Perfection, and Prayer
By Anne Perry

I had a wonderful trip to Boise, Idaho.  The actual travel was pretty exhausting — two days to get there, two days in Boise, and two days to get back.  Neither my brain nor my body knew where I was, far less the right time of day or night.  And now that I am home, the daylight at least is not helping.  The sun is still high and bright here after ten o’clock at night, and at least 1a.m. it is still light.

But the conference in Idaho was excellent, really extremely well organized and run, and the accommodation was luxurious.  And as happens without fail when I come to America, the people were charming.  Two days is really not long enough, but it is amazing how much one can fit in, how many new and interesting people one can meet, and excellent conversations one can enjoy.  It stirs up the brain and imagination marvelously, which is so good for creation of ideas, gratitude for what you already have, and anticipation for future things. 

Above all I leave with the determination to do better.  I return home re-energized – or I will be as soon as I fully wake up!

What incredible weather we are having.  So much sunshine.  Not only is dawn at about 2.30 in the morning, but the days are hot!  And I really do mean hot.  I have just been to look at the thermometer outside my front door in the shelter from the sea breeze, and in the sun, I admit, but it says 116 degrees Farenheit — honestly.   And this is in the north of Scotland, to the north of some of Alaska.  It has been more than 100 degrees Farenheit several times in the late afternoon.  Thank heaven there is a breeze from the water much of the time, and of course nights are cooler — for as much as there is any night.

The flowers are breathtaking.  I have skived off work a couple of times and driven around the lanes to see the banks of wild lilac in bloom, the yellow streamers of the laburnum, the massed bowers and sheets and thickets of golden gorse and broom, the crimson and amethyst towers of wild rhododendrons.  The hedges of hawthorn are so thick with blossom they look like mounds of new snow, and the perfume drifts right across the fields.  The rowan trees are covered with flowers, as are the chestnuts and the wild plums.  Paths are bright with daisies and fields are grazed with gold buttercups.  At a distance they look as if a giant were trying to butter the ground.

The week before I went to Idaho, Meg and I drove to the bluebell woods.  That was magically beautiful, beyond description.  One had to stick to the path between the trees because off it there was no place to put your feet between the flowers.  Perhaps when poor little chicken ran around afraid that the sky was falling, he had seen a bluebell wood, where the ground was so thick with flowers nothing else was visible but sunlight through the birches onto the blue?

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And of course the gardens everywhere are gorgeous.  The tulips and wallflowers are fading.  The cherry blossom is gone.  The pansies are always there.  Now the blood red, scarlet and orange oriental poppies are luminous in the sun.  The peach-coloured ones will follow.  The lupins are opening, irises are beginning, and there are festoons of clematis on the ground, on the hedges and arches and scaling up into the trees.  Everything smells like heaven, and the birds chatter and sing all the daylight hours.

And the sea is blue.

The lambs and calves are getting bigger.  I saw a Shetland foal the other day — a beautiful little creature, and she knew it.  She was quite friendly, but she was well aware that she was the star.  We should await her pleasure, and not the other way around.  Her mother was not the least bit concerned, she knew we were only there to admire, and tell her baby that she was perfect.

The roses and peonies are in heavy bud.  It will be their turn next, and then the lilies I suppose.  I shall definitely need all of eternity to look at these things.  Anything less would not be enough.

With apologies to A. E. Housman, if I have misquoted him.  The lines just spring to mind. How can we possibly ever be grateful enough for life, and the world?  How can we ever love it enough?  Let alone care for it and preserve it!

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This is Sunday, and I have been to church.  There was plenty of subject for thought.  The Sunday School lesson was on Samuel and Eli.  I think Eli may be one of the great tragic figures of the Old Testament.  He had such high office, and failed so desperately badly both in the role of father and that of high priest.  Of course there may be extenuating circumstances of which we know nothing, and God is his father and his judge, not any of us.  But what an object lesson on how family love can be blinded to the truth, and the consequences of indulgence, and in so doing end in the destruction of the very people we think we are protecting.

I have heard “family first” said so many times, without the qualifying words that make it clear it means only in certain circumstances, such as not putting your time with your own pleasures before family.  NEVER does it mean family before God.  My mother used to say, “Keep your best manners for the family,” meaning that you should treat the people you love to the best of yourself, not the worst.  There should be no slacking off of courtesy or consideration, no taking for granted without thanks, just because we know people well.  She didn’t mean be less courteous to strangers.

I think God never means us to place family before what is right, or to indulge those we love so that we allow them to be dishonest, cruel, violent or cowardly without check, or to think they are more important than others.  Truth cannot be distorted to accommodate people because they are family, without a terrible price being paid later on.  Eli is a tragic example of a love that lacked the courage, and possibly the sacrifice, necessary to risk disfavour, even dislike, by saying that certain acts are unacceptable and cannot be allowed.

Sometimes it is much easier not to “rock the boat” by saying something that will be unpopular.  One can do it with family, friends, co-workers, employees.  I have failed to address things because I did not want the hassle of unpleasantness, having to stand my ground and explain what I mean, and why.  It was so much easier to adjust my own behaviour or expectations than run the almost certain risk of a row if I spoke out. 

One can be tired, vulnerable, lonely, and simply not face the issue.  I dare say we have all been there.  Poor Eli lost both his sons, because they were not checked soon enough.  I dare say his failure to act was out of love — and also cowardice.  He needed what we now know as “tough love.”

It brings me to the vexed question I have wondered about before:  Where does tolerance, gentleness, the desire to avoid confrontation, become enablement for someone to continue doing what is wrong, and in the end may become irreversible and cause most terrible damage?

Perhaps the only answer to that comes with the subject of the Relief Society lesson, and of course the Priesthood lesson too.  Again it was my week, and it was on a subject to which I dare say we have all given much thought — that of prayer. 

Praying effectively is not always easy.  Words can become repetitive.  We can be discouraged when it seems as if we receive no answer.  It can be hard to remember that “answer” does not mean that we necessarily receive what we asked for.  “No” and “not yet” are also answers.  Other answers may be “not until,” or “not unless.”  They are difficult to accept.  Often we do not ask for the right things.

It is always good to be grateful just for time, and the beauty of the earth, and for life and eyes, ears etc., to have joy in what we are given.  At times pain or fear, guilt, loneliness or despair can swallow up all other blessings into a wound too deep to feel anything else.

But some prayers will always be answered in the affirmative, I believe.  If we ask for guidance, and are willing to accept the answer, even if it is not the one we would have chosen, or if it is an answer that requires labour and sacrifice, or possibly great courage to accept.  But I believe we will never be left without counsel, if we will ask and listen to the answer.

I also believe that we will be given comfort in times of loss or trial.  The grief may not be removed; in fact it probably will not.  Some losses are unavoidable, such as the death of parents, or even of people we love whom we might have expected long to outlive us.  But I have experienced that the Lord will comfort us if we allow Him to.  He will help us to feel that what has happened is in His control, and in the order of things, and the pain will become quiet, at times even silent.  We will be able to remember the happy times, and know that other even happier ones lie ahead.  We will feel the peace of those we loved, and know that the separation can be only temporary, if we do our best in all things.

Which brings me to the subject of perfection.  Perfection is not to be without fault.  A blank sheet of paper is without fault.  It is also without virtue.  Write as well as you can in the Book of Life.  We will all make spelling mistakes, grammatical mistakes, blots and scratches and ill-formed letters — but at least there will be something written.  If you are afraid of making a mistake, you will never make anything at all.  That would be the biggest mistake possible.  Surely that is what the Council in Heaven was about — the fear of failure, or the courage to try, with its chance of glorious, immeasurable success?

Prayer is our constant touch with guidance, comfort, forgiveness for mistakes and help to do better next time, above all it is the friendship of God.  If we have not that we will accomplish little — but if we have that, we can accomplish all.

I hope to try and remember that more consistently and more vividly this glorious month.  I wish it for all of us.