I discovered a list of journals that Joseph Smith kept for different purposes. Knowing this about him makes me feel some companionship in my quirky habit of keeping several journals at once.
He kept a journal of observations. He kept a personal history and kept track of his letters. He made sure that the things discussed in Church councils were recorded. He kept a record of the names of the faithful and wrote tributes about many people.
This is my current stack of journals, and each has its own topic. I think that they’re important in my process of becoming, whether or not anyone else benefits from them.
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.
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 finished a book I started reading 10 years ago. It was a difficult book, despite its short length, but worth reading. It was a 17th century text of religious meditations. In case you are wondering, I don’t know why I get myself into these things.
I finished a huge Shutterfly photo book project that I have been working on for 15 months.
Today, Thursday, is my family history day, and I hope to finish transcribing dates to a spreadsheet from an old birthday book kept by my great grandmother. I have had this book for either 2 or 5 years (I forget) with the intent to do this.
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.
To celebrate Tim’s birthday, Richard and I made a temple appointment. As I finished our temple session and entered the celestial room, I was greeted by a temple worker as I never have before. He simply said “Hi,” not a more formal “hello” or reverent nod, but a joyful “Hi!” It made me think of the welcome I hope for in heaven, just a familiar “Hi.”
Last Sunday at dinner, I gave a simple baby in a manger to each of our children for Christmas, a reminder that Christmas takes different forms during our lives, and sometimes it feels incomplete, with a loss or absence of a loved one. I have learned that Christmas can still be celebrated without the full scene. The simplest Nativity, without any of the other characters surrounding Christ, is still complete because of the Baby in the manger. Christ is the only essential, and he is always there. I also believe He wants a familiarity with us, a relationship that will continue forever. I believe he also wants to greet us with a familiar, “Hi,” someday.
It has been a busy few months preparing for a stake Primary training about temple and family history work. On the day of the training, Paige and I decorated 70 temple cookies, and that was a big job. Thank you, Paige!
Most of the effort to prepare for this evening can’t be shown. Truly, it was not about the pretty cookies. There was a lot of personal and collaborative work. It was a spiritual journey. By the end, I realized this wasn’t “my” training at all. My original ideas for the evening slowly changed to something better, thanks to counseling with my presidency and an enthusiastic high councilor. Answers to prayers came. My small hope for some help from a few temple and family history consultants resulted in around 16 people showing up to teach.
It’s my birthday weekend, and as I look back on my last week of being 47, I can say that it was one of the best weeks. I was with my Sanchez family in the temple, along with Richard, Paige, Daniel, and McKenna. I got to see ordinances performed for people from my own labors in family history research. And towards the end of the week, I believe miracles happened at our training.
Happy Halloween! It’s not my favorite holiday, but I have always enjoyed the costumes. Mark dressed up with his friend to go to a Halloween dance with church friends. Cuties.
This wasn’t for Halloween, but I asked Daniel to try on my grandpa’s US Army uniform from WWII this weekend. Wow!
Here is a picture of my grandfather in his uniform.
Did I ever tell you that my grandpa and I got along really well? He had a tough and intimidating exterior, but he also gave me the nickname, Angelina Magdalena and talked to me like a pal. He took me places, Hawaii, Hearst Castle, San Francisco, and good restaurants. I have so many memories, but one favorite was when he picked me up from the Oakland airport and drove me to his house. We listened to his Andrews Sisters cassette and we talked about what his life was like when he was my age. I loved him so much.
This week, I took an hour to upload a few photos to the Family Search website and tag the names of my ancestors. One of the pictures I uploaded is shown above. It is small, just 2×3″, and sits in a frame in my kitchen. It is special because it shows my great-grandmother Alli, on the right, seated with the children, smiling. Since discovering this photo in 2013, we have found more photos of Alli smiling, but this was the first. Alli died 3 1/2 years after this photo was taken.
The photo is well-labeled on the back, and the label identifies the two children are who are celebrating birthdays, plus one other name, Ellen. She sits above the party on the right. As I tagged her in the photo, I realized that this is the only photo on Family Search for this woman, who is my great-great aunt. Then I noticed that her temple work has not been done. As I continued tagging, I saw that there are temple ordinances waiting to be done for the birthday children, specifically for the birthday boy, second from the left on the bottom row. He was killed in WWII and left no descendants.
This photo now holds even more importance for me. If I hadn’t decided to share and tag this photo, how would I have known there are handfuls of temple ordinances to be done for these people? There are no coincidences in temple and family history work.
I am maintaining my goal to work on temple and family history work for a short time each week. One project this month is to go through old mail and cards that I have kept throughout my life. I am letting go of a lot of it. For scale, I would say I have one banker’s box left, and still plan to say goodbye to much more.
I haven’t been reading every letter, just sorting them by sender. Even without reading, I am amazed at what I learn about my grandmothers as I do this. I thought that I had already gathered their writing, but I have found so much more. Perhaps I am coming to know them better after they are gone, when the sum of their words and kindness are laid bare on the sorting table. I always knew they were good to me, but seeing their words from every stage of my life is an incredible gift.
I visualize my Grandma Ruth standing in the grocery store next to the greeting cards, finding just the words and images she wanted to convey. I picture my Grandma Stewart at her writing desk, penning her brief notes, often ending with “Take care–,” which of course meant, “I love you.” I see them, clearly in my mind, and know they are still with me.
I asked my sister Susan to take photos with my phone so we could have some candid shots of the wedding day. I think these photos can be more fun and can tell a story better than professional photos.
Eventually we will see the professional photos, but the day after a wedding, I am anxious to relive the day in my mind. These candid snapshots are a blessing to me. Thank you, Susan!
Another reality about the day after a wedding is that I awoke this morning on the couch where I had collapsed the night before. But look! My hairstyle was still intact!