From Angels to Olive Trees

My husband thought it would be good to take me away for a night. I thought it would be good to let him. So away we went to an undisclosed location, though it will soon be obvious once I said we went to a location to see some Christmas lights. Seeing where we live, where else do people go to partake in some Christmas lights? That's what I thought.

So after bundling up in our hotel room and hopping aboard Trax, which is really just a propelled tube of humanity, we were soon at a corner about to enter a world of much needed peace. I needed this. My soul craved it. As we waited for the light to change, and I was trying to ignore the pinpricks of iciness invading my thermals, I realized that there was something not matching the usual throng of people around me. It was my bagpiper! My bagpiper who once brought me comfort during conference was there again; he had returned at a time when I needed him most. I couldn't have been happier to hear him play Christmas carols at such a time when I needed them most. He truly was an angel, my angel, sent just for me. And just as he had drowned out protesters during conference, he was there to drown out the worries and heartaches for me then. I've seen an angel; angels don't wear wings, they wear plaid kilts. And I'm grateful for it.



The lights, of course, were beautiful, and the sky began filling with fog strangely enough. So the lights gleamed through as the fog rolled in. Beautiful. As my husband and I strolled through the grounds, oohing and ahhing with the best of them, we were taken in with the grandeur. But it was this site that made me think the most:


I never knew that right there on Temple Square, close to the temple was an olive tree. I was struck at that moment that there was, in front of me, a beautiful dichotomy. Presently we are celebrating the birth of our Savior by lighting up what feels like the world, while here in front of me is an amazing gnarled olive tree much like those that would have been in the Garden of Gethsemane. Our Savior was born in a darkened stable, lit only by a shining star yet we light up millions of tiny little stars to celebrate His birth and what it means to us in our lives. His birth brought about our birth. His life brings our life. Yet the fullness of our lives could only be brought about through His sacrifice. And I was overwhelmed by that thought when seeing this olive tree with His Christmas star-lights behind it.

Standing there, right there in that spot, I could see all three points of our gospel. First, the joy in our Savior's life and His purpose for us. Second, the Atonement -- not just for the redemption of sins, but also for the alleviation of all trials and sorrows. And when I turned around only slightly, this is what I saw with that olive tree:

I saw the temple. Yes, the temple -- how simple. Third, joy in the Plan of Salvation and the peace that comes in clinging to your family throughout this plan.

How lovely and fitting that lights led me to an olive tree, to keep me grounded this Christmas season. And to remind me that the Christmas season started with a family.