Liz Lemon Swindle began her painting career in first grade. Her first exhibitions were on the refrigerator, encouraged by her father. In the early 1980s she tutored under renowned wildlife artist, Nancy Glazier. In 1992, Liz began painting a subject matter she had long desired to approach: her faith. Her paintings are now held in corporate and private collections around the world and have been published in countless magazines and books. Liz and her husband Jon have five children and eighteen grandchildren.
Forget not to be patient with yourself: “Dear sisters, many of you are endlessly compassionate and patient with the weaknesses of others,” he added. “Please remember also to be compassionate and patient with yourself.”
Forget not the difference between a good sacrifice and a foolish sacrifice: “Dedicating some of our time to studying the scriptures or preparing to teach a lesson is a good sacrifice. Spending many hours stitching the title of the lesson into homemade potholders for each member of your class may not be.”
Forget not to be happy now: “The lesson here, is that if we spend our days waiting for fabulous roses, we could miss the beauty and wonder of the tiny forget-me-nots that are all around us.”
Forget not the “why” of the gospel: “We sometimes see the gospel as a long list of tasks that we must add to our already impossibly long “to do” lists. We focus on what the Lord wants us to do and how we might do it, but we sometimes forget why.”
Forget not that the Lord loves you: “Just think of it: You are known and remembered by the most majestic, powerful, and glorious being in the universe! You are loved by the King of infinite space and everlasting time. You may at times feel a little like the forget-me-not—insignificant, small, or tiny in comparison with others,” he said, noting: “I hope (the forget-me-not) will be a symbol of the little things that make your lives joyful and sweet.” — President Dieter F. Uchtdorf
Our spouses can bring us more joy and strength than any other relationship on earth. I think this was the case with Joseph and Emma. They were driven from town to town, rarely had a home of their own, and suffered mercilessly at the hands of mobs and devils, many times left with little else but each other.
After the death of Joseph, the Saints began to prepare for the trek west. Over the coming years as the saints came through Nauvoo, I could imagine Emma going to the bank of the river and watching them cross.
I can see her watching the endless wagon trains and handcarts bound for the city and faith that Joseph founded. Knowing she was not going west, I can imagine her whispering as she watched them disappear, "Forgive Me, Joseph."