Submitted by: Chrys Solomon

November Journal Keepers

1. Marieta Reid
2. Tammy Lutz
3. Mary Jensen

Opening Exercises

1. Friendly basket
2. Lesson
3. Reading of The Thorn Story
4. Special musical number:  Jesus Wept

Dinner/ Dessert

Sharing of gratitude journals
Musical number May I serve Thee
Words and Music by Tammy Simister Robinson
www.tsrmusic.com Copy right and music was obtained.

Open to sisters to share their feelings of gratitude
Reading of The Quilt
Closing

The center pieces will be vases of thorn stems tied in red ribbon.  The words :
“My God, I have never thanked Thee for my thorn!  I have thanked Thee a thousand times for my roses, but never once for my thorn.  Teach me the glory of the cross I bear, teach me the value of my thorns.  Show me that I have climbed to Thee by the path of pain.  Show me that my tears have made a rainbow.”

With holidays and loss of jobs and health problems this is a time for some disheartened souls.  I hope to have the sisters realize that although, we may not be able to remove their thorns we definitely will be able as sisters to help lighten the load.  They are not alone.  Those feelings of loneliness and helplessness do not come from our Father in Heaven.  When the yolk gets too hard we can give it up to the Savior.  I pray this evening will bring sisters closer to one another.  We have no idea of the thorns that face each sister.  I pray they will feel comfortable and loved this evening to share their most tender thoughts.

POEMS

THE QUILT
As I faced my Maker at the last Judgment, I knelt before the Lord along with the other souls.  Before each of us laid our lives, like the squares of a quilt, in many piles.  An Angel sat before each of us sewing our quilt squares together into a tapestry that is our life.  But, as my Angel took each piece of cloth off the pile, I noticed how ragged and empty each of my squares was.  They were filled with giant holes.  Each square was labeled with a part of my life that had been difficult, the challenges and temptations I was faced with in everyday life.  I saw hardships that I had endured, which were the largest holes of all.  I glanced around me. Nobody else had such squares.  Other than a tiny hole here and there, the other tapestries were filled with rich color and the bright hues of worldly fortune. I gazed upon my own life and was disheartened.  My Angel was sewing the ragged pieces of cloth together, threadbare and empty, like binding air.  Finally the time came when each life was to be displayed, held up to the light, the scrutiny of truth.  The others rose, each in turn, holding up their tapestries.  So filled their lives had been.  My Angel looked upon me, and nodded for me to rise.  My gaze dropped to the ground in shame. I hadn’t had all the earthly fortunes.  I had love in my life, and laughter.  But there had also been trials of illness and death, and false accusations that took from me my world as I knew it. I had to start over many times.  I often struggled with the temptation to quit, only to somehow muster the strength to pick up and begin again.  I had spent many nights on my knees in prayer, asking for help and guidance in my life.  I had often been held up to ridicule, which I endured painfully; each time offering it up to the Father in hopes that I would not melt within my skin beneath the judgmental gaze of those who unfairly judged me.  And now, I had to face the truth. My life was what it was, and I had to accept it for what it had been.  I rose and slowly lifted the combined squares of my life to the light.  An awe-filled gasp filled the air.  I gazed around at the others who stared at me with eyes wide.  Then, I looked upon the tapestry before me.  Light flooded the many holes, creating an image.  The face of Christ.  Then our Lord stood before me, with warmth and love in His eyes.  He said, “Every time you gave over your life to Me, it became My life, My hardships, and My struggles.  Each point of light in your life is when you stepped aside and let Me shine through, until there was more of Me than there was of you.  May all our quilts be threadbare and worn, allowing Christ to shine through.

Thankful for the thorns:
Sandra felt as low as the heels of her Birkenstocks as she pushed against a November gust and the florist shop door. Her life had been easy, like a spring breeze.
Then, in the fourth month of her second pregnancy, a minor automobile accident stole her ease. During this Thanksgiving week she would have delivered a son.
She grieved over her loss. As if that weren’t enough, her husband’s company threatened a transfer. Then her sister, whose holiday visit she coveted, called saying she could not come. What’s worse, Sandra’s friend infuriated her by suggesting her grief was a God-given path to maturity that would allow her to empathize with others who suffer. “Had she lost a child? No - she has no idea what I’m feeling,” Sandra shuddered. Thanksgiving? “Thankful for what?” she wondered. For a careless driver whose truck was hardly scratched when he rear-ended her? For an airbag that saved her life but took that of her child? “Good afternoon, can I help you?” The flower shop clerk’s approach startled her. “Sorry,” said Jenny, “I just didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you.”
“I . . . . I need an arrangement.” “For Thanksgiving?”
Sandra nodded.
“Do you want beautiful but ordinary, or would you like to challenge the day with a customer favorite I call the “Thanksgiving Special.” Jenny saw Sandra’s curiosity and continued, “I’m convinced that flowers tell stories, that each arrangement insinuates a particular feeling. Are you looking for something that conveys gratitude this Thanksgiving?” “Not exactly!” Sandra blurted. “Sorry, but in the last five months, everything that could go wrong has.” Sandra regretted her outburst but was surprised when Jenny said, “I have the perfect arrangement for you.” The door’s small bell suddenly rang.
“Barbara! Hi, “Jenny said. She politely excused herself form Sandra and walked toward a small workroom. She quickly reappeared carrying a massive arrangement of green bows, and long-stemmed thorny roses. Only, the ends of the rose stems were neatly snipped, no flowers. “Want this in a box?” Jenny asked.
Sandra watched for Barbara’s response. Was this a joke? Who would want rose stems and no flowers! She waited for laughter, for someone to notice the absence of flowers atop the thorny stems, but neither woman did. “Yes, please. It’s exquisite,” said Barbara. “You’d think after three years of getting the special, I’d not be so moved by its significance, but it’s happening again. My family will love this one. Thanks.” Sandra stared. “Why so normal a conversation about so strange an arrangement?” she wondered.
“Ah, said Sandra, pointing. “That lady just left with, ah . . . .” “Yes?” “Well, she had no flowers!” “Off?” “Off. Yep. That’s the Special. I call it the “Thanksgiving Thorns Bouquet.” “But, why do people pay for that?” In spite of herself she chuckled. “Do you rally want to know?” “I couldn’t leave this shop without knowing. I’d think about nothing else!” “That might be good,” said Jenny. “Well,” she continued, “Barbara came into the shop three years ago feeling very much like you feel today. She thought she had very little to be thankful for. She had lost her father to cancer, the family business was failing, her son was into drugs, and she faced major surgery.” “Ouch!” said Sandra.
“That same year, I lost my husband. I assumed complete responsibility for the shop and for the first time, spent the holidays alone. I had no children, no husband, no family nearby, and too great a debt to allow any travel.” “What did you do?”

“I learned to be thankful for thorns.” Sandra’s eyebrows lifted. “Thorns?” “I’m a Christian, Sandra. I’ve always thanked God for good things in life and I never thought to ask Him why good things happened to me. But, when bad stuff hit. Did I ever ask! It took time to learn that dark times are important. I always enjoyed the flowers’ of life but it took thorns to show me the beauty of God’s comfort. Your know, the Bible says that God comforts us when we’re afflicted and from His consolation we learn to comfort others.” Sandra gasped. “A friend read that passage to me and I was furious! I guess the truth is, I don’t want comfort. I’ve lost a baby and I’m angry with God.” She started to ask Jenny to “go on” when the door’s bell diverted their attention. “Hey, Phil!” shouted Jenny as a balding, rotund man entered the shop. She softly touched Sandra’s arm and moved to welcome him. He tucked her under his side for a warm hug. “I’m here for twelve thorny long-stemmed stems!” Phil laughed, heartily. “I figured as much,” said Jenny. “I’ve got them ready.” She lifted a tissue-wrapped arrangement form the refrigerated cabinet. “Beautiful,” said Phil. “My wife will love them.” Sandra could not resist asking, “These are for your wife?” Phil saw that Sandra’s curiosity matched his when he first heard of a Thorn Bouquet. “Do you mind me asking, ‘Why thorns?” “IN fact, I’m glad you asked, “He said. “Four years ago my wife and I nearly divorced. After forty years, we were in a real mess, but we slogged through, problem by rotten problem. We rescued our marriage - our love, really. Last year, at Thanksgiving, I stopped in here for flowers. I must have mentioned surviving a tough process because Jenny told me that for a long time she kept a vase of rose stems — stems! — As a reminder of what she learned from ‘thorny’ times. That was good enough for me. I took home stems, My wife and I decided to label each one for a specific thorny situation and give thanks for what the problem taught us. I’m pretty sure this stem review is becoming a tradition.” Phil paid Jenny, thanked her again and as he left, said to Sandra, “I highly recommend the Special!” “I don’t know if I can be thankful for the thorns in my life, “Sandra said to Jenny.
“Well, my experience says that thorns make roses more precious. We treasure God’s providential care more during trouble than at any other time. Remember, Sandra, Jesus wore a crown of thorns so that we might know His love. Do not resent thorns.”
Tears rolled down Sandra’s cheeks. For the first time since the accident she loosened her grip on resentment. “I’ll take twelve long-stemmed thorns, please.”
“I hoped you would, ” Jenny said. “I’ll have them ready in a minute. Then, every time you see them, remember to appreciate both good and hard time.
We grow through both.” “Thank you. What do I owe you?” “Nothing. Nothing but a pledge to work toward healing your heart. The first year’s arrangement is always on me.” Jenny handed a card to Sandra. “I’ll attach a card like this to your arrangement but maybe you’d like to read it first. Go ahead, read it.” My God, I have never thanked Thee for my thorn! I have thanked Thee a thousand times for my roses, but never once for my thorn. Teach me the glory of the cross I bear, teach me the value of my thorns. Show me that I have climbed to Thee by the path of pain. Show me that my tears have made my rainbow. ”
George Matheson—-

Parable of the Rose
by Ralph Gardiner
It is not recorded in scripture. . . Christ never uttered it as
such. But it is evidenced by every word He spoke, in every deed He
performed. A certain man planted a rose and watered it faithfully, and before it blossomed he examined it. He saw the bud that would soon
blossom. . . and he also saw the thorns. And he thought, “How can any beautiful flower come from a plant burdened with so many sharp thorns?”
Saddened by this thought, he neglected to water the rose, and before
it was able to bloom it died.

So it is with many people. Within every soul there is a rose. . .
the Godlike qualities planted in us at birth, growing amid the thorns of our faults. Many of us look at ourselves and see only the
thorns. . . the defect. We despair, thinking that nothing good can possibly come from us. We neglect to water the good within us, and eventually it dies. We never reach our potential.

Some people do not see the rose within themselves; someone must show it to them. One of the Savior’s greatest characteristics was that he was able to show people the Kingdom of Heaven within them. He was able to reach past their thorns and show them the rose.

This is the characteristic of love. . . to look at a person, and
knowing his faults, recognize the nobility of his soul, and help him
to realize that he can overcome his faults. If we show him the rose, he will conquer the thorns. Then will he blossom, bringing forth thirty, forty, sixty, or a hundred fold as it is given to him.

Our duty in this world is to help our brothers and sisters by
showing them their roses and not their thorns. Only then can we achieve the love the Savior wants us to feel for each other; only then can we become perfect as He wants us to be and blossom in the garden of His Father.

GRATITUDE QUOTES:
Gratitude Quotes
Pres. Ezra Taft Benson:

“We need to be more grateful.  I think  there is no true character without gratitude.  It is one of the marks of a real strong character to have a feeling of thanksgiving and gratitude for blessings.  We need more of  that spirit in our homes, in our daily associations, in the church, everywhere.  It doesn’t cost anything, and it is so easy to cultivate.”

Geraldine P. Anderson, “The Magic of Gratitude,” Ensign, Mar. 1971, 53

James E. Faust, “Gratitude As a Saving Principle,” Ensign, May 1990, 85
President Gordon B. Hinckley:

“Although I should not have been, I was surprised at something President Kimball said on one occasion.  I quote:  ‘I find myself hungering and thirsting for just a word of appreciation or of honest evaluation from my superiors and my peers.  I want no praise; I want no flattery; I am seeking only to know if what I gave was acceptable.’ (Teachings of Spencer W. Kimball, p. 489.)

“If President Kimball needed a little of that, how much more do these of whom I speak this morning?  Perhaps I can say in this company that on one occasion I received a great shock from my mission president.  I was his assistant at the time.  Some of the Saints in the district had with tremendous effort put on a great program.  I suggested to my mission president that we write a letter of thanks to these people for what they had done.  His response was, ‘We do not thank people in the Church for doing their duty.’

I am thankful for the wife who says it’s hot dogs tonight;
Because she is home with me, not with someone else.

For the husband who is on the sofa who is being a couch potato;
Because he is home with me and not out at the bars.

For the teenager who is complaining about doing homework;
Because it means she is at home, not on the streets.

For the taxes that I pay;
Because it means that  I am employed.

For the mess to clean after a party;
Because it means that I have been surrounded by friends.

For the clothes that fit a little too snug;
Because it means I have enough to eat.

For my shadow that watches me work;
Because it means I am out in the sunshine

For a lawn that needs mowing, windows that need cleaning, and gutters that need fixing;
Because it means I have a home.

For all the complaining I hear about the government;
Because it means that we have freedom of speech.

For the parking spot I find at the far end of the parking lot;
Because it means I am capable of walking and that I have been blessed with transportation.

For the lady behind me in the church that sings off key;
Because it means that I can hear.

For the pile of laundry and ironing;
Because it means I have clothes to wear.

For weariness and aching muscles at the end of the day;
Because it means I have been capable of working hard.

For the alarm that goes off in the early morning hours;
Because it means that I am alive.

And finally…for too much email;
Because it means I have friends who are thinking of me.