







The smiles in these photos are more reflex than emotion. These weren’t jolly trips to St George, but the music, family, and walks in the hills were good for us in our grief.

Do you need some hope today? I know I do. Things are rough right now in the Ross and Sanchez families as two of our loved ones are in hospice care. Still, there are layers of experience in the sad times that I don’t want to forget. Life is never just one thing. Even within an hour there are experiences of all kinds to be found. When I have been in great physical pain, I have noticed that intense pain is not constant. I try to focus on the instants where the pain relents to see that even during painful times, there is still peace and mercy. The same is true with emotional pain.
I believe there is a universe of experiences, difficult and happy, behind every smile. So, here is a smile from my grieving face. I feel vulnerable doing this, but today I send hope in Christ to you with a smile.

Here is a list of kind things people did for us or gave to us this month when they knew we were stuck at home.
I feel that these things are just what our Savior would do. People are good.
It’s all there: the old family van, Mark is barefoot, Tim avoids the shot, and we are enjoying the warmth of St George in February as we did each President’s Day weekend. Good memories.
This is Rebecca’s house and it is also where Richard proposed. 🌹
Will she really be lost to us when she dies? I’m not talking about life after death, but my relationship with her. All my life, if I was lucky, I saw her once a year. Her influence wasn’t so weak as to only be there when we were together. It lived in memory, in letters I still keep, and in her uncanny ability to know when I needed something. Our understanding of one another grew as she revealed her generous nature. She pampered me in childhood, encouraged me as a teen, and mentored me as a young woman.
Wisdom in books and recipes and exchanged notes carried us through the turning point when I could be a help to her. She trusted me to write her story, to help her during an illness, and I sat with her as we drove away from her home for the last time.
Now she withdraws from us, settling into the idea of rest. My hope is that in death she’ll be restored to us more than she is now when I visit her, shrunken and white on her bed. I rouse her sometimes to say goodbye, but lately, I feel strength to let her rest, trusting that the quality of our relationship doesn’t depend upon a goodbye.
The words you speak become the house you live in. -Hafiz
This borrowed wisdom is what I have for today. ♥️
For many weeks, Paige and I have been helping my dad work on a big project for the family. He has typed a memoir of his childhood adventures in the rolling hills and rock formations near his home in Pittsburg, CA. Paige is illustrating the stories and I am editing and formatting the book. We are mailing a few stories each week to my siblings and their children, with the goal to print and bind a complete version by early April.
It reminds me of a project that I began in January 2020 to write memories of my childhood. I wrote about 15 or 20 pages before I set it aside. Living in close quarters during the past 10 months has made it a little harder to focus on writing. Plus, I struggle to define a work space. The desks are being used, the kitchen table must be cleared often, and I need extreme quiet. This project with my dad keeps some of my desire to write alive, and inspires me to pick up old projects and not find excuses to delay.
I am making a little progress on creating a portable workspace for myself. I need to be present a lot of the time, not hidden away in an office. So, my work world revolves around a book bag and lightweight storage containers more than a single desk.
Stephen King, in his book about writing, suggests a writer should not have a massive desk that dominates a room because writing is not the primary thing. Living with your family is more important. He thinks a smaller desk in a corner is best. 🙂












