The leaves on this tree had turned yellow before they fell to the ground. They covered the yard in golden autumn, and they seemed to glow in contrast to the overcast sky.
Maybe it's because I'm in the desert now, but I truly appreciated how beautiful trees are for the first time in my life.
I have often thought about my children and how I would teach them about the Second Coming of Christ, how I could possibly be wise and confident enough to teach them what I know in my heart to be true.
But as I sat, staring at my yard, I realized I could already picture it.
Raking leaves into a huge pile, laughing together as we jump in them over and over again, then looking at my little ones in that day and asking them a question.
"How do you know the leaves on this tree are going to grow back?"
I'm anticipating the looks of confusion, the mom-are-you-dense? look.
"Mom, why wouldn't they? They always grow back."
"Yes, but how do you know?"
"We've seen it before."
I'm currently working my way through Helaman, and I always seem to feel discouraged when I get to that part of the Book of Mormon after reading about generations of war and bloodshed. Christ's entrance feels like it takes forever to happen. But He comes in the scriptures, just as He comes in real life.
And I don't find it so hard to believe that the only reason I can look out my bedroom window and see all of that--in a bunch of leaves in the middle of Provo, Utah--is because He wants me to know He cares.
I know He's real. I know He's coming back, and I plan to live on that hope for as long as it takes. No matter what I'm asked to do, no matter how hard it gets, no matter what's ahead of us as a Church, or me as a person. Even if it's trying to be patient--to wait well when time moves so painfully slow. I don't care. I'll learn to be patient, and I will wait for Him.
Why? Because He's worth waiting for.
And I say that in His name, even Jesus Christ. Amen.