179 years old

As I drove past the church parking lot on an errand, I saw that my neighbor wrestled to manage a plastic tablecloth in the wind. The balloons, color coordinated for a Relief Society birthday party, knocked around perilously, and I wondered if they would still be there when the outdoor-socially-distanced-grab-a-cupcake-and-visit safely-party began. When I arrived twenty minutes later, there were just a few women, masked and shivering along the sidewalk, enduring the cold for connection. A sister I love noticed me and held my arm and inquired, for real, how I was doing. Later, another sister said she heard I had been through a hard time. Then she listened, just listened.

I had to leave quickly, but I am glad for the ten or fifteen minutes I shared with my friends. I know that in those minutes, two friends gave something vital to me. I was the only one there with church keys, so I was able to open the building for the women to take shelter from the wind. As I write this, I remember what Mark said when I told him the story, “Mom, you and your Relief Society hijinks.” Beyond the “rebellion” of a few women sheltering inside the church during a pandemic in order to talk for a few minutes, I would say Relief Society has always been about helping women and families come inside from the wind. Happy birthday, Relief Society.

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Angela

I write so my family will always have letters from home.