Laurel

Laurel
by Anne Osborne Poelman
Amulek Alternative: Exercising Alternative in a World of Choice

Laurel is the daughter I never had. I really do lover her. She is a genuinely good person, one of the best I've ever known. She has tried to do the right things her entire life; to help other people, live faithfully, study the scriptures, pray often, and always keep a prayerful heart.
   It's always unsettling when bad things happen to good people, especially to those closest to us. I struggle with why Laurel, the youngest of Ron's four children, has had such a difficult life. Her mother was diagnosed with breast cancer when Laurel was only six; Claire died from its complications during Laurel's senior year in high school. Her father, newly called as a General Authority, moved to Salt Lake City just before Laurel left for Brigham Young University
   "Home" during holidays and breaks was no longer their cherished dream house on Longden Circle in the hills of Los Altos, California. Rather than remain cooped up in Ron's impersonal city apartment, Laurel often spent vacations traveling or visiting with friends.
   She med and married a spectacularly talented student who was embarking on a career in cosmetic dentistry. After his graduation from dental shool, they moved to Los Angeles. Her husband borrowed heavily to set up a practice in Westwood, perhaps hoping to become a "dentist to the stars." A young mother of one, then two, then three beautiful children, Laurel stayed home and finished college with correspondence courses.
   The marriage, often rocky, was shaken to its very foundations when Laurel began to suspect--first with disbelief and then with growing concern--that her husband might be using drugs. Drug Enforcement Agency agents began investigation him for alleged prescription violations. Under threat of imminent prosecution, family "crisis intervention" resulted in his admission to first one and then another drug treatment program.
   Laurel hung in there as her husband's behavior became increasingly erratic and occasionally even violent. She was eventually left at home to struggle with their three small children by herself. Ron and I spent many tear-filled hours with her, agonizing and praying over her difficult situation.
   "Daddy," she would say with grim determination, "I went to the temple and made a solemn covenant. And I'm going to do everything I possibly can to keep it." Neither she nor we mentioned divorce.
   One day Ron came home, his face bleak. "Laurel called me at the office this afternoon," he recounted. "I could tell she'd been crying."
   Ron was near tears himself. "She said just one word, 'Daddy.' I could hear some small choking sounds. Then there was a long pause as she fought for control. She finally sighed and asked me, 'Daddy, did I agree to this before I came to earth? Did I know it would be so hard?'"
   I waited as he stopped, struggling for composure himself.
   "I finally said to her, 'Yes, dear, you did. We all did.'" He continued, "There was another prolonged pause. Then I heard her choke. 'Oh Daddy,' she said pleadingly, 'Did I shout for joy?'"
    Yes, Laurel, you did. And you will again.
   God himself has declared, "Men are, that they might have joy" (2 Ne 2:25) and "This is my work and my glory--to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man"(Moses 1:39).
   The gospel teaches us that before birth we existed as spirit children of our Father in Heaven. In order to realize a fulness of joy and progress toward our destiny of eternal life, we needed to experience mortality.
   Elder Jeffrey R Holland has summarized the essential role of mortality:

      God's premortal children could not become like him and enjoy his breadth of blessings unless they obtained both a physical body and temporal experience in an arena where both good and evil were present...such a temporal experience must be predicated upon moral agency, which includes the moral and intellectual ability to distinguish right from wrong and the attendant freedom to make choices based on that knowledge. (Christ and the New Covenant--Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1997), p. 200

As God's spirit children, we knew that mortality would bring both risks and opportunities. Just how much detail and what specifics of our forthcoming mortal experience we knew in advance isn't really known. However, we did understand that we would be tried and tested in the crucible of life's experiences. We knew that no one would be exempt from either trials or temptations. No one would be immune from pain and suffering.
   We recognized that an essential part of our mortal experience would be to exercise the power of choice we call agency. There would be real choices between attractive alternatives, what Elder Holland calls "contending enticements."
   We also knew we would often make those decisions in the face of oppositiong (see 2 Ne 2:16; D&C 29:39). Our choices would, in turn have real consequences. Some of those consequences would have eternal significance. If we remained faithful and were obedient to God's commandments, we could return to our Father in Heaven to share eternal life and exaltation with Him.
   Prophets throughout the ages have called God's design for us by various names, including the "plan of salvation" and "the great plan of happiness" (Alma 42:8). The scriptures record that when this great plan of happiness was presented to us in the premortal existence, we "shouted for joy" (Job 38:7).
   As part of the great plan, we would retain no conscious memory of what preceded our birth. Learning to walk by faith would be a necessary part of the mortal experience. In mortality we would have ample opportunity to learn, grow, and prove ourselves by understanding God's laws and keeping His commandments.

   For Conclusion click here