Earlier this week I had the privilege of going to dinner with my friend Aymon. We met in the hospital on my first trip to Philadelphia back in June. I was waiting to have my t-cells extracted for the CART-19 study, and he was awaiting an infusion to help treat his multiple sclerosis. Initially we were all staring at our "smart" phones, then somebody made a joke about it and we began interacting like people used to before the invasion of "social" technology - and I'm glad we did because it gave me the opportunity to meet a truly awesome individual.
We found out that our diseases are nearly opposite - his immune system has gone out of control and attacked his nervous system; my bone marrow has gone out of control and my immune system doesn't do anything about it. We swapped hospital horror stories, and found that despite the differences between our ailments we had undergone several of the same chemo therapies.
Aymon has been dealt what some would consider a tough hand, but he manages to keep a smile on his face. He was a long distance runner in high school, but at age 24 he was diagnosed with an aggressive form of MS. He is now confined to a wheelchair, has gone blind in his right eye, and is beginning to lose control over his arms and hands. Notwithstanding all this, he related the following to me, "If I had the choice to be healed today, or to go back to when I was 24 and never fall ill with MS I wouldn't go back. I've had too many amazing experiences. I've learned so much. I wouldn't trade it."
I was inspired by his words. I told him I have never considered my cancer diagnosis in that way and that I would need some time to ponder it. As I've contemplated this interesting proposition throughout the week two things came to mind:
First, was the Lord's council to Joseph Smith as he endured the horrendous circumstances of Liberty Jail,"If thou shouldst be cast into the pit, or into the hands of murderers, and the sentence of death passed upon thee; if thou be cast into the deep; if the billowing surge conspire against thee; If fierce winds become thine enemy; if the heavens gather blackness, and all the elements combine to hedge up the way; and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good." (D&C 122:7)
I don't know about you but in my mind that scripture conjures up visions of some of the darker scenes in The Lord of the Rings! That said, I've never had the elements combine against me, or the jaws of hell gape open after me, but if those terrifying scenarios can be for one's good, then I suppose I too can gain experience and learn something from my trials.
Second, is a story related by Hugh B. Brown that has come to be known as, 'The Currant Bush'. These are his words,
"I was
living up in Canada. I had purchased a farm. It was run-down. I went out
one morning and saw a currant bush. It had grown up over six feet high. It was going all to wood. There were no blossoms and no
currants. I was raised on a fruit farm in Salt Lake before we went to
Canada, and I knew what ought to happen to that currant bush. So I got
some pruning shears and clipped it back until there was nothing left but
stumps. It was just coming daylight, and I thought I saw on top of each
of these little stumps what appeared to be a tear, and I thought the
currant bush was crying. I was kind of simpleminded (and I haven’t
entirely gotten over it), and I looked at it and smiled and said, “What
are you crying about?” You know, I thought I heard that currant bush say
this:
“How
could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth. I was
almost as big as the shade tree and the fruit tree that are inside the
fence, and now you have cut me down. Every plant in the garden will look
down on me because I didn’t make what I should have made. How could you
do this to me? I thought you were the gardener here.”
That’s
what I thought I heard the currant bush say, and I thought it so much
that I answered. I said, “Look, little currant bush, I am the gardener
here, and I know what I want you to be. I didn’t intend you to be a
fruit tree or a shade tree. I want you to be a currant bush, and
someday, little currant bush, when you are laden with fruit, you are
going to say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for loving me enough to cut me
down. Thank you, Mr. Gardener.’”
We often think we know the Lord's plan for us only to be disappointed when things don't turn out how we expected. We may be tempted to complain, "How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth." It can be difficult, or even painful, but sometimes the Lord has to remind us that He is the gardener, He knows what we are to be, and if we could only see from His eternal perspective we too would say, "Thank you [Lord], for loving me enough to cut me down."
