Gifts and Talents

By Kari Diane Pike

Marsha Ward taught me something Sunday. The lesson is growing and expanding, filling my being with light and joy and love. Marsha related her experience during Sunday school and studying the parable of the talents as told in Matthew 25. She said,

“So it is with the talents the Lord has given us. He will come again and ask us how we did with His talents.

His talents.

They are on loan to us, to increase them during our stay on earth. If we do our very best with them, we will be called good and faithful servants, and receive all that He has to give.”

I went back to my New Testament and reread Matthew 25. Actually, I read it several times, fascinated by the depth of this parable. I wanted to know more. I read all the cross-references at the bottom of the page and I turned to the Topical guide and looked up “gifts,” and “God, Gifts of,” and “talents.”

James 1:17 says, “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.”

Doctrine and Covenants 6:10 says, “Behold, thou hast a gift, and blessed art thou because of thy gift. Remember it is sacred and cometh from above.”

These scriptures verify the very thing Marsha shared with us. The gifts and talents we have all come from our Father in Heaven and they are sacred. Wow! But now what? How do we recognize the gifts over which we have been made stewards? What do we do with them once we have become aware of them? We know we are expected to do something with them because the parable teaches us that there will be a day of reckoning. The Lord tells us in Doctrine and Covenants 72: 3-4,

“And verily in this thing ye have done wisely, for it is required of the Lord, at the hand of every steward, to render an account of his stewardship, both in time and in eternity, For he who is faithful and wise in time is accounted worthy to inherit the mansions prepared for him of my Father.”

Doctrine and Covenants 6:11 teaches, “And if thou wilt inquire, thou shalt know the mysteries which are great and marvelous; therefore thou shalt exercise thy gift, that thou mayest bring many to the knowledge of the truth, yea, convince them of the error of their ways.”

1 Peter 4:10 gives us another clue. “As every man hath received the gift, even so minister the same one to another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God.”

Doctrine and Covenants 46:11-12 says, “For all have not every gift given unto them; for there are many gifts, and to every man is given a gift by the Spirit of God. To some is given one, and to some is given another that all may be profited thereby.”

Doctrine and covenants 82: 18-19 says, “And all this for the benefit of the church of the living God, that every man may improve upon his talent, that every man may gain other talents, yea, even an hundred fold, to be cast into the Lord’s storehouse, to become the property of the whole church – Every man seeking the interest of his neighbor, and doing all things with an eye single to the glory of God.”

Doctrine and Covenants 46: 26 tells us, “And all these gifts come from God, for the benefit of the children of God.”

As I studied these verses, I imagined all of us gathered around the Lord as he named our gifts and gave us stewardship over them. He knows us each by name and he knows our different abilities. Some of us received one, some of us received two, and some of us received five of these sacred and special responsibilities. We promised to develop our gifts so that we could share with all of our brothers and sisters; something like a co-op of farmers, each assigned different crops, all of which, after the harvest, would be placed in a community storehouse. Every talent or gift that we increase benefits not only our self, but every one of the Lord’s children.

I was excited to share my new understanding of these scriptures with my Monday morning walking partners. And guess what! I learned even more! Julie had just returned from a seminar at the George Wythe College in Cedar City. One of the lectures focused on the subject of recognizing, understanding, and using our gifts. He told the audience that he was going to name nine general categories of gifts. He said that one or more of those gifts would stand out to them and that he wanted them to write it down, because more than likely, that was their gift. He also told them that perhaps another gift would come to their mind rather than one of the ones he stated and that they should listen to their hearts and write them down. Then he began listing the categories,

“Feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the sick, teach truth, heal families….”

I didn’t hear the rest. I started crying. The spirit touched my heart, my mind, my entire being. I have since read the verses in Matthew 5, Matthew 25, and in Doctrine and Covenants 46. Have you ever sat down and made a list of the possible gifts the Lord has waiting for you? This question has been asked before on this Bog, but I will ask again. Why do you write? What is your purpose in writing? What is your gift? Take a moment, or an hour, and make a list of the gifts available to us. It is exciting!

Independence Day

by Anna Arnett

As soon as she heard the first firecracker, Mother ran to open the screen door. Within seconds, Uncle Orris’s big dog Poon careened in, ears flat, tail between his legs, seeking safety under the bed where he lay trembling. A bullet once creased his head, and last year he’d gone right through the screen.

This is the first Fourth of July I remember. I was five, almost six. We lived on a farm about a dozen miles south of Rexburg, Idaho. I tagged along when Mother went to town, but my brother Don, three years older, elected to stay home and light firecrackers under tin cans.

Up on the Rexburg Bench (a flat area overlooking the rooftops of Ricks College and purported to be formed by the shores of prehistoric Lake Bonneville) a lone cabin plane landed on a graded dirt runway and taxied right up to where we were standing. I hid behind Mother’s skirts. Before I knew what to expect, Mother lifted me up into the airplane, and two of my uncles assisted Grandma Wilcox and climbed in behind me. Somebody sat up front with the pilot, and a seat belt held me tightly between Mother and Grandma.

The engine roared, and we bumped along about the same as we did in our Model A Ford. As we gained speed, I thought we bumped less. Soon Mother unfastened my seatbelt. “Do you want to stand up and look out?” I did, but there was nothing to see except sky. Mother nudged me closer to the window. Pressing my forehead against it I looked down, and gasped in amazement. The cars looked like little beetles parading in lines, and people hardly seemed larger than dots. The plane banked, and I could see even better. Then it turned the other way, and Mother tugged me back to my seat and fastened me in. I have no idea how long the flight lasted, but when we got out, everybody congratulated my jubilant grandmother.

Grandma was born in Winter Quarters in February 1847, and arrived in Salt Lake City by covered wagon in September. Now, at eighty-two, she’d flown in an airplane! I, her youngest grandchild, got to ride with her.

The fireworks that night were the first I remember. We lay on quilts on the grass in the city park to watch the dark sky light up with umbrellas of sparkling color.

My husband says when he was a boy on a farm near Duncan, Arizona, somebody went up onto the clay bluffs and detonated a charge of dynamite to wake up the valley on the Fourth of July.
But his real Independence Day, he claims, was not in July. It was April 29, 1945, when he and about a hundred thousand other American and British prisoners of war were liberated from a camp in Mooseburg, Germany, with a tumult that far exceeded one dynamite blast.

Just before sunset on April 28, an American Major, dressed in combat uniform, with his 42 still strapped to his hip, presented himself at the gate and gained entrance. He brought welcome news.

“The American forces are near, and tomorrow you’ll hear shelling on both sides. I’d advise those of you in tents or in the open to hit the slit trenches to avoid any stray bullets. Sometime tomorrow, you should be free!”

The hoped-for word spread quickly as the sun went down. The Major stayed the night. Next morning the boom of mortar shelling woke them. American troops approached from the east, and the flash of tracer bullets and overhead mortar fire filled the air. A stray bullet hit the brick chimney of the latrine. Another hit the dust a dozen feet away from 2nd Lt. Charles Arnett, erstwhile B-24 bomber pilot. He jumped into the nearest trench, but watched as the forces split and charged on either side of the camp.. Every man eagerly watched the American forces converge on the village just down the hill, while the defending Germans retreated.
A hush fell over the camp and collective breaths came short as they watched the Nazi flag with its hated swastika tumble swiftly down the flagpole, and the Stars and Stripes of America rose triumphantly to the top. A hundred thousand prisoners cheered as one, giving a shout of joy that Lt. Arnett felt sure should be heard as far away as Berlin.

Tears streamed from the eyes of these weary, tough, hungry, unwashed, lice infested, courageous men. They could see, taste and smell freedom. This became forever their Independence Day.

That afternoon, General Patton himself arrived. He took one look around, asked a few questions, then stood in his Jeep, not ten feet away from Lt. Arnett, and addressed the men. He promised them white bread for supper. How an army on the march could come up with that much bread is another amazing facet of the ingenuity jewel created by Americans working together. Within a couple of hours the bread trucks rolled in, and every man ate white bread with his K-rations.

The war for freedom began long before the earth was formed, and is still going on. Freedom is precious. And it comes only by obedience to correct principles. Whenever we disobey, we give up just a little more of our rights – even if it’s only the right to a free conscience. Think about it.

This morning, at our Ward Independence Day breakfast, Charles has been asked to tell this experience. Excuse me, while I go with him.

Anna

Putting First Things First and Other Annoying Habits

by Rene Allen

This morning I confessed to my husband that in our home, I am the one who makes the biggest messes. He laughed. “Dear,” he said and turned it into a five syllable word. “We’ve been married thirty-something years and you just figured that out?”

I said this because as we were kneeling for family prayers, I noticed a pile of shoes by the side of the bed where I take them off. Once a week I put up my every day sandals, my black church sandals, tennis shoes, walking shoes, rubber flip-flops and Berks. Somehow, they manage to get together again, like teen-agers meeting covertly at the mall, without my permission. Of course, they belong in the closet. Why don’t they stay there?

Then there was the pile of laundry I’d been meaning to fold and put up for four days; and a stack of books I’m trying to read; and the hair dryer still on the countertop because I was late for church: all of this in our bedroom. My good husband looked around and buried his face in a pillow. His shoulders were shaking, though, and so was his stomach because he was laughing.

I have a long history of putting first things first rather than putting them away. My desk is an example. Yesterday I taught Sunday School. To my right is the institute manual on the New Testament, two notepads, and loose papers with notes from two weeks ago, as well as yesterday. To my left is Talmage’s Jesus the Christ and a stack of a dictionary, McConkie’s Doctrinal New Testament Commentary and a thesaurus. Precariously leaning against the dictionary are my planner and writing journal, and on top of those are two membership renewals from the watercolor guild that I have to forward to the new membership chairman since I’m not doing it this year.

The problem is I eventually have to put things away because there is no more room for first things first. Then I have a collection of stuff and it takes a long time because some of it has been out so long I don’t always remember where everything goes. But if nothing else, I am a problem solver, even if this means tearing everything out of a closet to reorganize it and make room for newly homeless belongings. This creates another problem, though, because at my age, short term memory is impaired enough, after a few days, I can’t remember where the new place is, either.

You’d think with all this trouble, I would put things away after I use them. What a good example I would be to my family. How efficiently I would work. It is a great idea, but so is losing forty pounds. Habits die hard and new ones are slow growers because seldom do they get to that desirable position of being in the first things first category.

I’ve worked this problem for a lot of years and really do want to change. I can enjoy the fresh air feeling of order and organization as well as the next gal. But doggone it, it means you have to make picking up after yourself as important as writing an essay, or preparing a lesson, or doing a watercolor of three saguaros in bloom for the next show.

Sigh. I turn it over to you, my writing friends. Ideas? Suggestions? Reprimands? Please hurry. My husband can’t stop laughing. He is gasping for air and his stomach muscles are in tight spasms, but every time he looks around the room he starts in again. I think he may be out of control.

Talents

by Marsha Ward

I learned something new in Sunday School today. We discussed the parable of the talents, and our teacher pointed out that the men had been given the talents for a short period of time until the lord came again, and they would present them back to him at that time.

So it is with the talents the Lord has given us. He will come again and ask us how we did with His talents.

His talents.

They are on loan to us, to increase them during our stay on earth. If we do our very best with them, we will be called good and faithful servants, and receive all that He has to give.

That puts things in a new light for me. I've always recognized that talents come from God, but I've never before made the link that they are still His, that they are in my keeping only for a short period of time. Wow!

I'm glad I'm still learning lessons at my stage of life. I hope we all can.