We are just a few last weeks away from returning to our home and to our children in Orem.  I feel their hearts pulling me home.  It’s almost time. My missionary mother’s heart longs to be here, but my mother’s heart longs to be with them.  It has been hard to miss them growing up, graduating, getting married, and having children–without us near.  But as I look back at these last 3 years, away, I can see the blessings that have been poured down on our family.   I am grateful–so grateful I tremble.

As I have watched them band together and love each other I have often wondered about heavenly intervention, the kind that fills in the gaps and spaces left open with our absence.  I often feel the love from dear ones who have gone before, encircling our family, wherever we each may be.   Their faith fills us, as a family, and strengthens ours.  I love feeling their presence in our lives.

The hymn pronounces, “Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven.”  Sacrifice strengthens faith, and faith strengthens families.  That faith pours down through the generations and fills us.  I am so grateful for my children and new grandchildren and for my dear ancestors and loved ones who pass among us in love.

Wendell Berry expresses it in this way:

Last Christmas, passing along Christmas traditions to our next generation:

Family love and food around the table:

Generations in living love:

I love being a mother.  I love these memories of Christmas and I love that soon we will be together again.  I love those who have gone before us.  I love those who will come after us.  And I love all the missionaries who surround us here.  I tremble with gratitude.