The promise of new life, even everlasting life, is everywhere at springtime. A once-bare tree dons a new coat of pink blossoms. A red-breasted robin searches the dry grass for just the right twig for her nest. A baby lamb makes a test run of his little legs. A mother holds her baby for the first time and forgets the long winter of waiting. New life is so much more than just another beginning. In the weary eyes of any who have endured long winters, it is hope and continuity, meaning and purpose. New life is the color in a gray and darkening world.
Several years ago, on Easter weekend, a young girl came to auction her lamb at the county fair. Her parents were not there. The girl stood alone with her little lamb while the auctioneer called out a small sum. Everyone whispered when someone bid unusually high. And then everyone became quiet when the bidder gave the lamb back to the little girl, along with the money. The auctioneer explained. Her daddy was in the hospital dying of cancer. Her mommy was there with him. Nothing more was said. One hand after another was raised. The lamb was sold again—and then again and again and again. With each offering came a ray of hope, not so much for the money earned but for the promise of living in a world where strangers treat each other like good neighbors.[1]
Every unselfish act breathes life into another’s existence. Just as each splash of spring color reminds us of the ultimate victory of life over death, so do acts of goodwill revive feelings of faith, hope, and charity. Such acts are merely a reflection of that divine light within us, that spark of goodness that lights our way and leads us back to the God who gave us life. He sent His Son, the Lamb of God, that we might have new life and have it more abundantly[2]—in every season of every year.
Program #3944
[1] See “The Day the Lamb Was Sold,” Ensign, March 2005, 8–9.
[2] See John 10:10.