Seek for things of a better. . .

  

  The rain has been falling for several hours now, with the occasional rumble of thunder. The blinds are open, but the light remains dim and gray. 

    I went for a walk earlier, before breakfast. I held an umbrella over my head and sang as I walked. I sang songs to remind me of my true identity, songs to fortify my faith and focus my efforts on a higher purpose than merely surviving one more day on earth. A few neighbors passed in their vehicles, but the only ears that heard my singing were those of the deer grazing in the nearby field. There were four of them, but only one raised it's head to see what was making the noise. 

    For these animals, I suppose survival is enough. They don't have a laundry list of chores to complete or goals to achieve. Their instincts tell them when it's time to eat and when it's time to rest, when danger is near and when to flee. But for me it's different. I don't rely so much on instinct as on faith. I have faith that today I will be supplied with every thing I need. I have faith that there will be ample time to sort out the challenges that arise, and that I will be stronger and better for having dealt with them. I also believe that among the prosaic tasks of preparing food, eating, cleaning, clothing, and caring for so many little bodies, there runs a golden strand of meaning. It weaves throughout our lives, always there, though at times more difficult to spot. 

    I've been listening to Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban with my children. If you've read any of the series you'll remember that Harry plays on the Quidditch team. This popular wizard sport is played on flying broomsticks and his position on the team is Seeker: the one who watches for the golden Snitch. Capturing the winged Snitch simultaneously earns your team 150 points and ends the game. 

    But it's never as easy as that. While you're seeking after the Snitch, opposing team members are flying about batting around bludgers (giant balls that can knock you off your broom). 

    I think life is a little like that. You muddle through each day, doing your best to stay upright on your broomstick amidst the chaos and confusion that would confound you. Yet, if that's all you manage to do, there's this lingering sense of futility.  The soul yearns for more than survival. It craves two things: freedom and focus. One without the other leads to frustration. But if you can bring these two soul-nourishing ingredients together, you've got a recipe for -- how shall I put this? Not success. That's too narrow a term, too flimsy for the sensation I'm attempting to convey. When you're given the freedom to pursue your own path, and you have wisdom enough to focus your passions into channels of usefulness, over time you will achieve something valuable, something that makes all the muddling worth it. You'll catch sight of that glittering Snitch, and when you finally clutch the prize in your hands, the game's over. You're not playing by the world's rules anymore. You're living by faith, which is a greater power than knowledge, for it gives you understanding of things which are not seen but are true. 

    It reminds me of the words of Jesus Christ: "And verily I say unto thee that thou shalt lay aside the things of this world, and seek for the things of a better." (D&C 25:10). 

    I am a seeker. 

While everyone else flies around in a frenzy of competition, I'm quietly scanning the horizon for that glimmer of gold, the thread of meaning that promises a satisfaction deeper and a thrill more lasting than pleasure. It's a thrill that surprises me in thick of some mundane task, like folding towels or spreading peanut butter for a toddler's lunch. When I'm doing these simple things willingly, every once in a while, I'll be struck with the sensation that what I am doing is important, that it matters in the grand scheme of things, and that I'm somehow connected to the Divine.

    Have you ever felt this way? What might happen if you trusted in that hope more than you did in the reality you see all around you? What if we started living with that quiet confidence that there is more to us and to our lives than meets the eye? What if we were to play the game with a whole team of Seekers? What beauty might we find, what treasure could be ours if we lived by faith rather than reason?

    I, for one, am determined to find out.