Easter Sunday

This Holy Week has been a time of reflecting with my tribe. 

Each day as we've read accounts of what happened on those same days anciently, we've filled our "Easter baskets" with tokens of remembrance: a leaf for Palm Sunday (which Claire holds and waves back and forth saying, "Hosanna! Hosanna!"); 

a temple picture that reminds us of Jesus teaching us to prize what is sacred; the piece of red cloth to remind us that He taught about the second coming during that last week---testifying that this wasn't the end, that His work spanned all time, and that He would eventually come again clothed in red; a coin because Judas agreed to betray Christ for 30 pieces of silver; a sacrament cup to remember the atonement and that it is personal; a nail to remind us of that first Good Friday and the crucifixion; 

a little Book of Mormon to remind us that, when in the spirit world, Christ organized missionary efforts so that everyone could share joy; and finally, a blossom for the resurrection, symbolizing that life returns, that death holds no eternal finality---and that ALL sorrow and ALL of the ways we feel broken are bound up and healed in Him. 

(Easter baskets!)

I know Jesus lives. 

No words can adequately articulate the feelings of my heart today, but I am so very grateful.  

(the boys in their Easter ties from their baskets -- and I LOVE! Isaiah's long hair)

(the girls and I sporting matching sandals -- Mia has wanted some ever since I got mine a couple of years ago, so the girls got them in their baskets)

Christ's light, His example, and His love make all the difference, every day, for me. 

(Egg dyeing)

 

(Homemade carrot cake with vanilla bean ice cream)

I am grateful for the peace that only He can give. 

(the flowering cherry in my front yard is killing it right now)

He is my greatest gift. 

The Truth of Family

A few weeks ago Mr. C. gave the family home evening lesson (we take turns).  

He was teaching the children about the scriptural phrase in Ephesians where it talks about having your loins girt about with truth.

He got out his climbing harness and pulled up some photographs on the computer from previous rappelling trips to show them folks descending beautiful red rock cliffs into cooler, shaded regions below.

He talked about how truth is a harness that keeps us from harm; it literally keeps us safe and can save our lives.  It enables us to negotiate the otherwise frightening pitfalls of life.

I loved his analogy, and I feel profound gratitude for truth in my life.

Lately, I've felt especially grateful for the truth of family.

A couple weeks back I was teaching a group of girls about their roles as women.

It's a topic I'm passionate about because I absolutely love what I do, and I believe that women have profound influence.

I had a couple pictures at the front of the room: one of me and Mr. C., and one of our kids.

I told them that these pictures summed up where it's at for me.

Those photographs show what is my life and heart.

I know I'm biased, but I think my babies are the cutest babies.  Ever.

And I believe, fundamentally, in the truth of family.

In its strengthening.

In the power for good that comes from close relationships.

In simple times together eating, talking, praying, reading, sharing and crying, laughing, playing, exploring, growing, learning.

Sharing our lives.

Joseph F. Smith said: “There can be no genuine happiness separate and apart from the home, and every effort made to sanctify and preserve its influence is uplifting to those who toil and sacrifice for its establishment."

This reverberates inside my heart, and I need to remind myself of it.

Such powerful words can guide my hands, my voice, my heart, my choices, my priorities.

These people, this family of mine, is my greatest joy.