Alma said, “O that I were an angel, and could have the wish of mine heart...”  (Alma 29:1).

I say, “O that I were an artist, and could paint the picture in my mind.”  There are two in particular that I would paint.

The first came as a revelation from the Spirit when I was a bishop driving to Baker for an interview with a person who was in the midst of a very difficult trial.  I remember thinking deeply about, and praying about, the situation as I drove along, and wondering what I could possibly do or say to help.  I remember neither the person involved nor the situation; but I can show the exact spot where the inspiration came, and I’ll never forget the picture that came into my mind in answer to my pleadings.

Nephi explained that “...the Lord giveth light unto the understanding; for he speaketh unto men according to their language, unto their understanding.”  (2 Nephi 31:3).  This instance was a perfect example of that concept.  I was a cattleman and understood cows.

The picture that came into my mind was of a cow.  She was severely emaciated—mere skin and bones—and was standing on a barren hillside that was devoid of any greenery or thing to eat.  The cow had obviously endured a prolonged drought.  To make matters worse she had her tail to the wind, and was hunched up against a driving rain.  Her problems were compounded.  A very bad situation had just gotten worse.  Life was not fair.  This was the end.

What the cow couldn’t see in the midst of her misery was that the affliction of the storm would be the answer to her prayers.

The picture that came into my mind was in two parts.  I’ve just described the first.  The second was of the same cow on the same hillside now lush with grass and greenery.  The cow was sleek and fat and happily grazing the knee-deep grass.—But her tail was switching at the flies which buzzed around her, emblematic of the fact that we will ever have irritations and trials while here in mortality.

I believe that it is also a fact that our greatest afflictions are intended to become our greatest blessings if we handle them right.

The current picture that I would dearly like to be able to paint came to me this past weekend as I watched and listened to the October 2016 general conference.  One of the brethren said that the path to the tree of life is an upward climb.   As he said that, I saw it.  It is a takeoff of Lehi’s vision.

My vantage point is high in the sky from the side of the gorge on which is located a very attractive, great and spacious building.  It’s situated in a beautiful park.  Immediately to my right, on the summit of a steep mountain, is the tree of life.  Straight ahead of me, far away, and thousands of feet lower is a great field filled with people.  They’re pressing forward toward the juncture of two paths.  One path turns to my left and crosses a bridge at the base of the mountain that is to my right.  The bridge spans a gorge that separates the mountain on the right from the level plain on the left.  The great and spacious building is located in the level plain down close to the bridge.  Many, many people are crossing the bridge going toward the great and spacious building, that being the easier path to take.

A few people in the picture have chosen the path that involves an upward climb to the tree of life.  From my vantage point I can watch their progress.  I note that in places the path skirts dangerously close to the edge of the abyss.  This is because of the steep mountain and cliffs on the other side of the trail.

But the path has a railing to hang onto.  The climbers are able to safely negotiate the narrow places as long as they keep hold of the rail.  The climb, though, is steep and arduous.  Periodically along the trail there are wide spots that jut out over the gorge.  The path and the railing stay back against the cliff, but these wide spots are convenient resting places for the weary hikers.  There are even occasional trees that provide welcome shade.

Groups of people can be seen resting in that shade.  Others in the wide spots can be seen standing on the edge of the gorge looking at the raging river below, or taking in the vista that includes the plain containing the great and spacious building on the other side of the gorge.

From my vantage point I can see the tree of life, but the climbers can’t.  Because they’re on the mountain, they’re unable to see its top.  To complicate matters further there is a bank of clouds hanging halfway down the mountain.  The hikers are going to have to climb through heavy fog.  The fog adds danger for those who have released their holds on the railing, and who are resting in the wide spots.  The fog has already mostly engulfed one of the wide, green areas, and the people resting there are going to have difficulty getting back to the railing without falling into the gulf.

I see a few people on the path with their hands on their hips looking longingly back down the trail.  Some have already turned around, and are heading back down.  The climb was too hard.

Interestingly, however, there are also a few individuals down on the bridge who have also turned around, and who are going against the flow of people making their way to the great and spacious building.

The sky above the tree of life is sunny and very bright.  There are dark clouds behind me on my side of the gorge, however, and a storm is threatening to engulf the plain.

I can’t paint pictures, but I can paint word pictures.  Perhaps someday someone will take my word pictures and turn them into paintings.