“Our perfect Father does not expect us to be perfect children yet. He had only one such Child. Meanwhile, therefore, sometimes with smudges on our cheeks, dirt on our hands, and shoes untied, stammeringly but smilingly we present God with a dandelion – as if it were an orchid or a rose! If for now the dandelion is the best we have to offer, He receives it, knowing what we may later place on the altar. It is good to remember how young we are spiritually.”
– Elder Neal A. Maxwell, That Ye May Believe, 1992, p.10
I just wanted to share a touching story from my mission when I felt Heavenly Father turn my dandelion into a rose: (taken from my journal)
Today was a really rough day. We were working really hard but it was just one of those days when you gain a testimony that the adversary is real and he hates you. However, on such days, you also gain a testimony that God is real and He loves you.
We were on the #88 bus coming back from Asparuhovo towards the center of the city. As we got on the bus, we immediately saw it was full of school children (about 6th-8th grade) coming back from the 2nd shift of school. I was standing, talking to a woman sitting down who had helped us know which bus to get on, when I noticed an 8th grade girl, crying, right behind her. She was in hysterics, and several of her friends were trying to comfort her. But one by one, they gave up and sat down across the aisle, leaving only the girl and one of her friends sitting next to her. I watched as the girl, through tears and short breaths, explained to her friend whichever devastating event had happened that day (whether it was a family issue, a personal issue, a school issue, I don’t know). The friend tried to comfort her, but the girl would burst into tears as she told then story, then would try to regain her composure, and then would burst into tears again.
It was during this time that I had the thought (and I am certain it was from the Holy Ghost): “You should draw her a picture to make her smile.” My immediate response was, “No, that’s a silly idea! A picture? Of what? A rose?!” Then, the words of our beloved former prophet Thomas S. Monson came into my mind: “Why… That would be a kind thing to do” (“A Legacy of Love and Service”, Ann M. Dibb)
I excused myself from the conversation with the woman, and sat down in an empty seat across the aisle from the crying girl. I pulled a pen out of my jacket, and searched for a piece of scratch paper in my pockets. I didn’t remember have a scratch piece of paper, but as I put my hand into my right jacket pocket, my fingers touched paper. I pulled it out, and recalled that earlier that day, I had had a specific prompting to grab that piece of paper (which had an investigator’s Skype written on it) with plans to contact the investigator through Skype (that never ended up happening that day). I thanked Heavenly Father and tore off a small square. On the square, I drew a rose: not a very good one, but for someone with little artistic talent skill on a bumpy bus with a cheap black pen, it did the job. Then, I wrote the following in Bulgarian:
Ето, една роза / Here is a rose
Която да те нарадва / To make you happy
А не да плачеш / And not to cry
Всичко ще бъде наред. / Everything will be okay.
Бог те обича. / God loves you.
I tapped the young girl on the shoulder, and she turned around, surprised and with tears in her eyes. I handed her the note, and then stood up and returned to my companion’s side in the middle of the bus. Behind my back, I heard the girl’s friend let out a gasp of joy! I turned slightly, to see, and I saw that the girl was no longer crying. She had a smile on her face, and was trying not to hold back giggling (not the “a cute boy just handed me a note” kind of giggling, but the kind of giggling that happens when you were just inconsolable and something shocks you into happiness). She was showing her friend the note and soon all of her friends gathered around her to see what had brought such a smile to their friend’s face. Pretty soon, others on the bus who sat around her began to ask what was on the note. An older woman who sat in front of them asked to see it. Before you knew it, almost half the bus had seen the note (or at least it felt that way).
Immediately after seeing her smile, I thanked Heavenly Father: “Thank you for doing such a wonderful thing for that girl, Father.” A little while later, I glanced back at the girl and saw her looking down at the note, holding it in her hands, not taking her eyes off of it, with a smile on her face. I saw her friends look at me, and she smiled at me, and in her eyes were the words “Thank you”. I thanked Heavenly Father again.
The rest of the ride into center was different. The girl joined the rest of her friends, and they laughed together as they talked about whatever 8th grade girls talk about. I tried to talk to a few people by us, but they weren’t in a talking mood. As we got off the bus, I turned back once more and waved to the girl and her friend. They waved back. No tears. Just a smile.
Thank you, Heavenly Father. I felt more like an observer than a participant in the whole event. Thank you for what you did for her. She knows you love her. She felt your love. You were right. It was a kind thing to do.
At the end of such a difficult day, it felt like that was the only thing I had to offer, my “dandelion” which Heavenly Father had turned into a rose.