Despite feeling worse for having done it, I didn’t want to get ready for church today so I didn’t go. Now I’m home, alone, and wishing I had gone. It’s not that I didn’t want to go to church, I just didn’t want to go then. Now I’m feeling really sad I didn’t go. Not guilty, just sad. I know I would have been enriched by having been there.
What leads us to make poor decisions like this? To knowingly choose the wrong?
I keep thinking about moving back to Utah. Sort of. That wasn’t right to say. But I keep thinking about what I (and our families) might be missing by not being there. I feel that I’ve opened my heart and honest-to-goodness told Heavenly Father that if that’s what He wants us to do, I will willingly go. But we are compelled to stay. We know we are right to be here, where we are, and to make it our home. But how do we, okay ME, wrestle with these feelings of wanting/needing to be closer to my family home? I miss my sister. I want to be closer to her kids. I want to know and love my brother the way I have with her. I want our children to go places we went in our youth. I want our boys to be close to their grandparents, to benefit from their knowledge and experience. I want us to be closer to Honey’s family, too.
Maybe these are the latter days, because my desire to be close to my family is stronger than ever before. To gather us all safely in, make sure we’re all taken care of. To know and love each other so well that when one is gone, it will be noticed but not noticeable because we all step in and keep going until the grand reunion.
Man, I really need to stop watching Ken Burns documentaries on the Shakers….