Susanna is getting married, and this was her bridal shower. I should have taken photos of the rest of the room, but the food was lovely, and the gifts were generous, and there were 3 more tables of guests. I was glad to be included.
We tend to find what we seek, especially in the temple. Today, I took spiritual shelter there, and I lingered for a long time. I was seeking rest in the midst of some concerns, and I noticed there was a comfortable chair waiting for me in the celestial room.
If you need some shelter, there is a chair waiting for you at the temple, even in the waiting area or on the grounds. The Spirit feels the same, wherever you are within the gates. Perhaps you could find your own comfortable spot under the shelter of a temple spire. It’s not about the building, though. Just like a grandmother’s house, the feeling stems from the one who lives there.
For thou hast been a strength to the poor, a strength to the needy in his distress, a refuge from the storm, a shadow from the heat, when the blast of the terrible ones is as a storm against the wall.
Isaiah 25:4, KJV
My mom saved these favorite toys from my childhood, and occasionally, I pull them out of storage to see how they have weathered the years. They still make my heart do a little flip.
I am having one of those weeks where almost everything I planned to do has slipped off the list. For some reason, I have been drawn to finishing things that have been on the long term list: Forgotten things, procrastinated things, things that require the kind of attention only a person trapped inside on a winter day can give. That is this week’s story.
I hope I am not the only one who has projects that have been put off for years. To celebrate the week, I am erasing the original to do list and giving myself a star for facing some of those monsters under the bed.
These were my grandmother’s books. On this anniversary of her death, I have been looking at photos I took of little corners throughout her home. I can still find her wisdom and her voice folded away like a sachet that sometimes gets jostled and leaves a subtle scent. She was so good at imparting family stories, gifting us with a sense of who we came from.
In 2018, I overheard her telling my mom about her father Axel’s passing. Assigned to the shift that night was a nurse who could speak his native language, Swedish. The nurse was not just able to speak words of comfort, but do it in the language of his parents and childhood. She spoke to him, quietly and tenderly, easing his fears during his final hours.
My parents and my aunt were with my grandmother on her last night. They told me that they read to her from the book of my dad’s childhood memories. I don’t know what she heard or understood, but I am glad that there were words of comfort and memory in the room for her, too.
We celebrated Richard’s birthday this weekend with all the good things. He is definitely worth celebrating. We had so much fun that I *think* he will forget that I neglected to buy a key ingredient for his birthday meal so it had to be postponed. Also, I sewed him a minky winter hat which turned out to be too small for his sweet head. Really, though, in memory, the wins should outlive the fails. I hope.
Paige and I took a break from the move to attend a tea party with my sisters and mom. It seemed like a crazy thing to do, but in the end, I think it was just right.
