Sweet Moments

I want to share a sweet experience I had this week.  It really wasn't an experience, but a feeling.  We have a group of women in our Ward, called the "Golden Oldies," who meet once a month for lunch at a restaurant.  We've been doing this for 2-3 years.  As the name says we are old.  There are a few over 50, more over 60, and some over 70.  There were 10 of us who gathered at a local eating place this week. 

I hadn't been for a few months; there was always some conflict the day we would get together.  This month I decided I had to go and meet with my "old" friends.  Some of the women I have known for 20+ years, others not as long, but all I call my friends.  Everyone was doing what women do best when they get together.  We talk.  And every time we have had lunch there is always a conversation going, sometimes one topic between everyone, sometimes many topics between small groups.  I sat there listening to the talk.  Someone brought up the expected death of their newborn grandchild.  Another shared the recent diagnosis of terminal melanoma cancer that the husband of another Golden Oldie friend was just given.  A recent convert to the church told us how much she misses her deceased  mother who she never had much of a relationship with because the step-father wasn't a very nice person.  She had been kicked out of the home at age 12.  Two of the ladies came about an hour after the gathering time.  One is blind in one eye, with two canes, and the other gets around with a walker.  They said they were moving slowly that day.  Health is an issue for many, but one woman in particular was rushing to see her doctor who had put her on a 5 day cleanse to get rid of the candida that seems to be taking over her body.  As you can see we discussed many things, and oh yes, of course the election was mentioned, too.

As I sat there listening a warm, comforting feeling passed through my being.  I felt love for each woman at the table.  I love them because they aren't perfect, their children aren't perfect, and their grandchildren aren't perfect.  And they do not pretend to be anything, but just who they are, imperfect.  I felt safe and secure.   

I have had a weakness over my lifetime.  I tend to compare myself to others; it's either I'm just a little bit better, or I'm not as good as.  I didn't feel that this week.  I felt equal to each woman there.  I can't feel love for another if I'm comparing myself to them.  It's always a sweet moment when we learn a truth. 

Sunday Will Come

This picture of Xela and me was taken 30 years ago in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.    I love it!  A couple of weeks ago I was holding my sweet little granddaughter, Jessalyn; she has been living in our home for seven months now so I have closely watched her grow from a preemie newborn to a chubby, happy 8 month old.  As I was holding her I felt this overwhelming feeling of love in my heart for her and gratitude for my five babies.  I loved my babies.  Having these two little girls, Jessalyn and Keira, living with us seems like a second chance at loving unconditionally.  I feel that kind of love for all of my grandchildren; I'm hoping their parents will benefit.

There have been some eventful happenings lately:  two 5K races, one 5.25 mile trail race, attending my oldest son's 2nd business location grand opening, getting answers from General Conference, Easter, teaching two Gospel Doctrine Sunday School lessons (gulp), and receiving a tender mercy while in the temple (other blog). And of course confronting all my weaknesses. 

I've been reading a remarkable book called, "Rescuing Wayward Children" by Larry Barkdull.  The greatest truth I have learned is the importance of sanctifying ourselves so we can therefore redeem our children.  I learned that I need to let the Lord do His work, trust Him, have faith in Him, and know that He knows what is best whether change takes place tomorrow or 50 years from now.  And perhaps even after we've left this frail existence. 

Elder Wirthlin gave a General Conference talk in October 2006, titled, "Sunday Will Come."  He said, "Each of us will have our own Fridays--those days when the universe itself seems shattered and the shards of our world lie littered about us in pieces and it seems we can never be put together again.  But I testify to you in the name of the One who conquered death--Sunday will come. In the darkness of our sorrow, Sunday will come.  No matter our desperation, no matter our grief, Sunday will come.  In this life or in the next, Sunday will come."  

How Blessed is this Grandma!

Nick and I spent a week in Salt Lake City over Thanksgiving with Gens and his family.  I've never spent time in SLC except for a day or two.  This time I explored the city on foot, at least the blocks from Trolley Square to Temple Square and Capital Hill.  I loved it!  We did a lot of driving into the different canyons for sightseeing and playing, too.  I decided that I have more fun playing as a grandma than I did as a kid.

We went to Pioneer Heritage Park ("This Is the Place" monument) for their annual Christmas village walk through with all the lights, carolers, train ride and even reindeer. We bundled up in our gloves, hat, and warm winter coats. It was freezing! My favorite exhibit was the live nativity with a sweet, living baby Jesus. When we were "following the star" to the manger I could sense we were going to witness something sacred.  As we walked into the little wooden structure where Mary and Joseph were with their newborn babe I almost felt like I was a shepherd kneeling in awe on that sacred night over 2000 years ago. What a wonderful start of the Christmas season!        

My Saturday

Last Saturday, November 14, I drove to Snowflake, Arizona with my mother-in-law to attend the funeral of a man I had only met once, maybe twice. By the end of the services I was really sorry I hadn't known him or been friends with him. The life story, the talks, the sharing from relatives was glowing and uplifting. He was a genuine family man, who loved everyone and everyone loved him. His funeral was the kind I would like for myself, or a close loved one. I'm sure this man wasn't perfect (there were some great stories told!) but he lived his life serving others and serving his God.

Harry and Ruth were married for 18 years. She brought three daughters to the marriage and he one. Her three are the daughters of my brother-in-law. They are beautiful women, inside and out, with children of their own. What makes this a unique situation is the Christ-like love all family members feel for each other. The love is palatable. I can feel it and touch it. What could be uncomfortable or even unbearable, isn't.

Funerals are so much more than sorrow felt, or grief, but a manifestation of God's love for each of us.