
This sunrise greeted me this morning after I dropped off Mark at school. It was a good start to the week. I have been reading about the Creation in the scriptures. God’s creations remind me that He exists, and He is present.


Today is preparation day for Tim, the day he will need to do his laundry, pick up a new suit and dry cleaning, and get his car back on the ground so we can drive it during his mission. He sold all his vehicles but this one. This one holds so much of his time and labor, I don’t blame him for not wanting to get rid of it.
I cleared away all the autumn stuff yesterday and Mark and I put up all of our Nativities and two trees. Tonight we decorate gingerbread houses to celebrate an early birthday for Tim.
We have tried to be quiet for MTC classes and I never know how long Tim will have for dinner, but I feel pretty good about our family’s role in helping Elder Ross on the first leg of his mission. We haven’t been super spiritual, we have just tried to be helpful and available. Routines have definitely been rocked during the past few weeks, and I am giving myself a measure of grace for not being a monument to family gospel study. With so many unknowns and a rotating schedule, we have scraped through with prayer and a few verses of scripture. We made a gratitude display with scriptures and things we are thankful for. When the kids were younger, we definitely did more than this. I think on this a lot, and haven’t arrived at a strong conclusion about why, or how we can fix things. One truth is that our teens don’t want to engage in conversation with the whole family. It is more of a one-on-one phenomenon when it happens. There is no magic solution to every problem once a home becomes a “missionary training center.” Another truth is that our home has been an MTC all their lives, whether we realize it or not. The piano practice, gospel study, togetherness, and learning to work and serve, it is all there.

We take our places in line together, one, two, three, last time. As we send Tim off to serve, once again our photos won’t be complete for a while. I have been thinking how the pandemic has lengthened our experiences with our children. Everything in our lives shifted, and we have been together more than we imagined we would at this phase in our lives. We have been given time, precious, unexpected, fortifying time, for which I am so thankful.
























I was inspired by someone who keeps a gratitude journal to do my own this year. Here is what I wrote last week.
Sun 14

Mon 15
Tues 16
Wed 17
Thurs 18
Fri 19
Sat 20
Sun 21


This year for our church conference, our family paused the t.v. after each talk to write a summary statement together on a white board. It didn’t take long, but it was a good way to review quickly and work together. I love autumn light, and it comes in many forms: sunrises, sunsets, golden afternoons, and general conference talks.
Here are just a few of my favorite talks.

This is my new view from my kitchen window. The dead cherry tree is gone from the neighbor’s yard, so I have a clear view of the mountain. The colors from the autumn leaves on this little patch of mountain just delight me.
The house behind us is being renovated, the mean dogs are gone, and my tree has grown tall this year, blocking the 70’s era windows in the neighbor’s house. Everything is very pleasant lately.

I look at the current collection of photos on the refrigerator and think how much has happened since the last time I replenished this casual little photo gallery. 2021 has been a big year. A milestone year. And now the summer of 2021 is gone. I have so many photos that are refrigerator-worthy this year and it’s a little daunting to decide how to use them all.

Beyond the refrigerator gallery and a few framed photos around the house, I make a photo album each year. In the early days my albums were scrapbooks, but eventually I embraced professionally printed photo books, which are a much better choice for us. I try to label everything with dates and places and people because these are the details of our lives that I don’t want to forget. I have learned to include photos of the mundane things, not just milestones in our photo books.

This Labor Day weekend, I plan to refresh the photos on the refrigerator to embrace the new season, our last season with Tim for a long time. And in a few months, we’ll have photos of scenes from the South Pacific to brighten the space. My refrigerator photo gallery is a reminder of where we have been, and as I update the photos, it reminds me that there are always exciting things ahead to take the place of our current milestones. We are not meant to stay in place.
Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and I will sup with him, and he with me.
Revelation 3:20, KJV
I read this today in a list of scriptures about the Lord making appearances to people. What stood out to me is what the Lord chooses to do with those who hear him and invite him into their lives: He sups with them. The meal represents the great blessing of having companionship with God and receiving his loving support. I think it conveys feelings of comfort, rest, and fulfillment.
I have been thinking of what the pandemic has brought to us. One blessing is that we have had more time with all of our children. Did I always use the time well? No, I have regrets, but I don’t regret that I elevated Sunday dinners and other meals. Early in the pandemic, I prayed to know how to face the challenge, and one thing that came to my mind was to make the most of family time, and to create celebrations with our meals together.
I have used fine dishes for our Sunday dinners, with cloth napkins, goblets, chargers, good tablecloths, and our best recipes. I started a written record of which children came and what we talked about. I can’t think of a more bonding experience than these meals have been during this challenging time.
We said goodbye to Daniel last weekend as he headed back to college. He doesn’t live far away, but it’s far enough that we won’t see him every day, every week, and maybe miss a month now and then. Knowing there is one less person at the table is one of the hardest parts of saying goodbye each fall.
Tim will leave us soon to begin his mission, and these meals with him mean more and more to me, as I know they are numbered. Tim received the Melchizedek priesthood on Sunday, and I was invited to share my thoughts at the conclusion of his ordination and blessing. I didn’t have to think of something profound, I just reminded him of something we had talked about at last Sunday’s dinner table. This table has become a truly sacred place for our family.