Today I took a standardized test. I studied for it, but not as much as I "should have." So I prayed an exceptional amount before the test. And my family prayed for me. Friends wished me luck. During the test I was making mental notes of topics that were difficult for me so I would know what to study if I failed and had to take the exam again. I was certain that my efforts at studying were simply not enough to pass the exam. But I was shocked when I finished and the screen said: "preliminary results indicate you have passed..."
Tonight, I attended a Relief Society activity. The theme was "Got Oil?" and the message was based on the parable of the ten virgins. Five of the virgins were unprepared for the wedding feast/party because they didn't have enough oil to keep their lamps burning all night. They didn't get to go to the party. Moral of the story: keep a reserve of oil and be prepared.
This got me thinking: How did the "wise" virgins know they would have enough oil? What if the bridegroom had taken so long to come that even the wise virgins ran out of oil? How does anyone ever know that enough is enough?
Answer: The wise virgins did their best to be prepared. They knew that doing their best included having a reserve. And they didn't know when enough would be enough, but they moved forward with faith that Christ (the bridegroom) would make up the rest.
No one (or maybe I should cover my bases and say "very few people, if any") knows they have "made it" in this life. I'm speaking spiritually here, but you can apply this to other areas of life as well. There is no quota we are directed to meet for scripture study, church attendance, or prayer that will automatically guarantee us entrance into God's presence. Similarly, there is no guaranteed number of hours to study for an exam that will ensure a particular score or outcome. No, instead we do our best and put our faith in Christ that He will make up the difference. We evaluate the state of our hearts and gauge how our personal supply of oil is doing. We don't know with certainty what the outcome will be for us, but I believe that the faith we exercise by filling our lamps despite the lack of certainty is exactly the sort of preparation we must have to be among the wise.
Recognizing the uncertainty and frankly, our personal inability to be prepared without some outside help, prepares our hearts to recognize the Savior when He returns to the Earth. As we fill our lamps with oil, we bring Him and His Atonement into our lives, and by doing so realize our need for greater light and knowledge so that when He returns we will know that our enough is enough because He is infinitely enough. It's passing the ultimate test you weren't sure you could pass on your own but you knew someone with all the answers would be helping you finish.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
Waiting Room
She took me in during the morning news--political pundits exchanging crossfire of jabs intermingled with plesantries. I settled in a corner on one of the couches. At nine Regis and Kelly hosted David Boreanaz. Seeing him was worthy of a retreat from my corner. Neither Martha Stewart's consommé lesson, nor the grating prattle of Barbara Walters and Whoppi Goldberg could draw me from my retreat like Agent Seeley Booth did.
Local news at noon and Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? made surprisingly good background for reading, but by the end I welcomed a personal update from the doctor. We had anticipated leaving after the consommé lesson. The doctor was kind enough to show me through the twisted corridors to the coffee shop and wait while I purchased water and a bagel. Had I attempted such an adventure on my own, I may still be wandering those corridors.
Earlier in the morning, such wanderers had passed thorugh the waiting room with sheets of paper guiding, "Go to room 2516 E. Look for the desk in the corner. Find the phone, pick it up, and wait to be admitted." But the phone in 2516 E didn't reach anyone. We, ourselves, had scavenged for orange detour arrows and succeeded in finding a buzzer, which unlocked a door, leading us to human beings who promptly whisked us in opposite directions. The only thing to do was stay there and wait for the next clue for how to exit.
The bagel revived me enough to survive All My Children without completely losing my intelligence. Despite a new-found appreciation for the lack of drugs, blackmail, murder, and sex in my life; One Life to Live was too much to bear. I roamed the halls in search of cell phone service.
The morning had provided people watching, but when the volunteer receptionist threatened to leave me solitary with soap opera stars, necessity found me standing on a chair searching for the power button on the mounted flat screen. Aside from the occasional page on the PA system, it was quiet. Sitting there had made me so tired I thought of napping but each sound of doors and every footstep in the hall made me wonder.
My mind drifted back to sitting on a bench in front of the school, craning my neck to search for my mom's Suburban. I knew she was coming. I knew she was coming today. I knew she was probably even coming within the hour, but I did not know when. Certainty was never so uncertain as on that bench or on that couch, in the corner.
Local news at noon and Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? made surprisingly good background for reading, but by the end I welcomed a personal update from the doctor. We had anticipated leaving after the consommé lesson. The doctor was kind enough to show me through the twisted corridors to the coffee shop and wait while I purchased water and a bagel. Had I attempted such an adventure on my own, I may still be wandering those corridors.
Earlier in the morning, such wanderers had passed thorugh the waiting room with sheets of paper guiding, "Go to room 2516 E. Look for the desk in the corner. Find the phone, pick it up, and wait to be admitted." But the phone in 2516 E didn't reach anyone. We, ourselves, had scavenged for orange detour arrows and succeeded in finding a buzzer, which unlocked a door, leading us to human beings who promptly whisked us in opposite directions. The only thing to do was stay there and wait for the next clue for how to exit.
The bagel revived me enough to survive All My Children without completely losing my intelligence. Despite a new-found appreciation for the lack of drugs, blackmail, murder, and sex in my life; One Life to Live was too much to bear. I roamed the halls in search of cell phone service.
The morning had provided people watching, but when the volunteer receptionist threatened to leave me solitary with soap opera stars, necessity found me standing on a chair searching for the power button on the mounted flat screen. Aside from the occasional page on the PA system, it was quiet. Sitting there had made me so tired I thought of napping but each sound of doors and every footstep in the hall made me wonder.
My mind drifted back to sitting on a bench in front of the school, craning my neck to search for my mom's Suburban. I knew she was coming. I knew she was coming today. I knew she was probably even coming within the hour, but I did not know when. Certainty was never so uncertain as on that bench or on that couch, in the corner.
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