Radiant Tales: The Final Count Up.

07 December 2012

The Final Count Up.

Yes, you did read that right. I am counting up :)

Counting up to so many things.
Happy things :)

Three more days of work.
Seven days till classes are over forever.
Seven days till I'm back with my family.
Eight days till my sister's happiest day of her life.
Eighteen days till Christmas.
Sixty one days till I leave for my mission.
And I'm guessing eight hundred and twenty five days till I get married.

:)

Just kidding. I don't know why I just wrote that.

But back to counting up.

It means that I'm looking at the days half full :) despite the burdens that might be upon your shoulders, to count up is to decide to be happy about the changes that are coming.

. . . even if they mean you are getting closer to leaving the people who matter most to you.

I guess that's why I believe in eternal families.

And the greatest happiness it yet to come.

I don't actually have a count-up for that. It's just going to come when Heavenly Father says it's right.

Until then, seven more days of classes.

I couldn't be happier.

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Do not pray for tasks equal to your abilities, but pray for abilities to equal your tasks.
Thomas S. Monson

Let the Scriptures be your guide and you will never find yourself traveling the road to nowhere.

Thomas S. Monson

The Touch of the Master's Hand

It was battered and scarred, And the auctioneer thought it hardly worth his while To waste his time on the old violin, but he held it up with a smile.

"What am I bid, good people", he cried, "Who starts the bidding for me?" "One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?" "Two dollars, who makes it three?" "Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three,"

But, No, From the room far back a gray bearded man Came forward and picked up the bow, Then wiping the dust from the old violin And tightening up the strings, He played a melody, pure and sweet As sweet as the angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer With a voice that was quiet and low, Said "What now am I bid for this old violin?" As he held it aloft with its' bow.

"One thousand, one thousand, Do I hear two?" "Two thousand, Who makes it three?" "Three thousand once, three thousand twice, Going and gone", said he.

The audience cheered, But some of them cried, "We just don't understand." "What changed its' worth?" Swift came the reply. "The Touch of the Masters Hand."

And many a man with life out of tune All battered with bourbon and gin Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd Much like that old violin

A mess of pottage, a glass of wine, A game and he travels on. He is going once, he is going twice, He is going and almost gone.

But the Master comes, And the foolish crowd never can quite understand, The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought By the Touch of the Masters' Hand.

Myra Brooks Welch