Remembering our wedding day

I’m definitely not the sentimental type; I’m much more matter-of-fact and practical, resisting clutter even if the pieces do have a story, I don’t make much of birthdays, and I’m especially not worried about my own, even those major decade ones.  But even I recognize a milestone like a 20 year anniversary.

I wasn’t looking to get married, I’d made other plans for my immediate future as a young adult.  But at the same time, I’d been planning my marriage for years.  Not the wedding or festivities, that kind of stuff is like a 3 to me.  But the marriage, the kind of guy I wanted, what I expected and hoped our relationship would be, that kind of thing I’d taken notes on over the years.

Just a few days ago, I dusted off an old journal from 1994 to remember what it felt like on the eve of our wedding.  Like most memories, it seems like a million moons ago, it’s hard to even recall what life was like before, what it was like to be just me in the world.  And at the same time I can conjure up the details without even furrowing my brow, it’s all just so accessible.  A little surreal to be sending our son to the same place we met; we can’t help but wonder if he’ll also meet his future spouse his first semester of college.  We certainly didn’t plan to.  We were simply friends who stuck together; how do you analyze falling in love?

We’d become friends over cafeteria food, we met for nearly every meal that first year.  Then we dated.  By the time he’d spent two years in Norway and we had piles of accumulated letters, we realized what we’d known all along.  We were now seasoned 22 year-olds with six more years of schooling ahead.  But we felt nothing but peace and calm about each other and our decision to face it all together.

As anxious as we were to get married after dating and writing for over three years, we still had to wait nine months after he returned from Norway to find an available date on the calendar.  We had to wait for our siblings to get out of school for the summer, for Todd’s brothers to attend scout camp, and for his family to make the trek to San Diego from Chicago.  We eagerly anticipated the wedding and our new life as husband and wife, yet we did our best to stay focused and be patient.  

Unlike most any girl I’ve ever known, I never really gave my wedding that much thought.  I knew it’d be in the temple, but I didn’t care about the dress or reception at all.  I just wanted a simple and inexpensive gathering, classy but basic.  It just didn’t matter that much to me.  I remember going home during a school break in April and going to the temple for the first time with Todd and my family, which I loved.  But I also endured tireless errands like choosing a cake.  Maybe we did flowers too; I have no idea.  I knew I didn’t want bridesmaids.  I didn’t want to make anyone stand in a line or buy a dress she’d never wear again.  I simply told our four sisters to wear any kind of navy church dress they could find and that they’d get some use from down the road.  Even my dress didn’t concern me too much.  I just wanted simple and easy.  No train, just straight.  True to 90s fashion, it did have puffed sleeves and a huge bow.  Good grief.  I had it made to save money; I never even went to a bridal shop.  I remember the material costing $60.  Now it lives in the dress-up box downstairs.  I shortened it a few years back so the girls could wear it.  I can’t imagine a more comfortable resting spot for it.

So while I was having my dress made in Utah between that break in April and July, my mom and her friends made reception plans.  The only input I cared about was that it be navy, my all-time favorite color even now.  The reception was in our friends’ beautiful yard surrounding a lake.  I loved that my mom’s friends made real food themselves, that we didn’t waste money having it catered and that it was low-key, like us.  As I read my journal entries from the days before and after my wedding, repeated are sentiments about being so grateful for everyone’s hard work on my behalf.  All the set up, clean up, prep, meals.  So nice.  I just couldn’t do any of it.  I was in Utah, we were working and finishing up the term.  I don’t know if I ever thanked them all properly and individually.  To be honest, I still kind of worry about that and hope somehow I did and that they knew how much it all meant.  It still kind of overwhelms me that so many people would spend their time decorating and cooking and cleaning on our behalf.  I’m so grateful, even twenty years later.

Todd and I flew to San Diego from Utah Thursday with the wedding Saturday.  We took Todd’s family to the beach.  I got my first and only manicure.  We returned to the temple Friday for a 7 a.m. session.  Had delivered pizzas and homemade cake on paper plates for our pre-wedding dinner.  So perfect.  So casual.  So us.

Saturday morning I woke up early (5:52) because of cat allergies and because I was sharing a bed with my friend, a sleepless night.  It never, ever, ever occurred to me to have my hair done or have someone help me with my makeup.  The last thing in the universe I would’ve agreed to.  Getting my nails done was a stretch.  So I just got ready like every other day of my life.  And so did everyone else.

I remember the ladies in the temple commenting how calm I was.  I didn’t know to be any other way.  I knew I was with the right person, in the right place, and even though we were only 22, I knew it was good, I had no reason to be anything but calm.

Two days after we married I recorded in my journal, “We got to the temple at 8:45.  It was weird before [and] during the morning because I was so calm.  It was as if it was a normal day, like we were just going to the temple like the day before.  Nothing fazed me,  it was perfectly normal for all of us to be going to the temple it seemed.  They took such good care of us!  They whisked away all my bags and let me relax.  We changed [clothes] and then we were able to sit in the Celestial Room all alone—to reflect and think about it all.  Beautiful room, groom, and time.  It was wonderful.  Then before we knew it, the sealer [the one who would be performing the ceremony] came to get us and into the [sealing room] we went.  It was a beautiful room and all our loved ones were there.  He talked to us specifically but so everyone could hear.  He counseled and advised us.  I was cool as a cucumber.  But after he told me we were married, the tears began.  I was so happy that all I could do was cry.  I was so happy to be able to be married there to my best friend whom I love more than anything.  It was an incredible feeling.  It is peaceful and joyful and good and right.  We were told to kiss, and it was the most beautiful and romantic and pure kiss ever.  I can’t think of any kiss meaning and conveying as much.  It was perfect!

“After kissing over the altar he told us to look in one mirror—symbolizing our our past, the altar was the present, and the other [mirror] was our future.  It was beautiful symbolism and it overwhelmed me to know I am sealed to Todd forever.  It feels so peaceful now.  As much as I couldn’t bear to lose him, it would be ok if we were separated now by death.  We are sealed for time and eternity.  We are bound together.  Everything will be ok. What a beautiful ceremony!  I wish I could’ve stayed in that room for a long, long time.  We exchanged rings.  We were told they were symbolic of our eternal love and that we should always wear them.  Then we stood in a “hugging line” so everyone could hug us.  It was so nice, I felt so loved.  It was wonderful!”

We eventually made our way outside to the temple grounds and, like most families and couples, had our pictures taken.  I wish I could change this part of the day.  I was grumpy and irritable.  I HATE getting my picture taken.  I hated being the center of it all.  It was all so awkward, such a waste of everyone’s time, I felt.  And yet, I wish I had gotten copies.  I have a few proofs, but I never ended up ordering any pictures.  After spending so much money on even such a simple wedding reception, I didn’t want to spend a dime more.  And so I put it off.  Indefinitely. I wish that I had been nicer to the photographer.  And gotten at least an 8x10.  I also never did a bridal picture session before our wedding.  I had no idea about that.  And it wouldn’t have mattered.  Could there possibly be anything worse than to be photographed repeatedly being the main subject?  And then having it displayed at a reception?  A bit later my aunt insisted I get some, even though it was after we’d been married.  So I brought my dress to work at BYU and she brought her young photographer.  We got some outside shots, and I do still have them.  I don’t love them, but I’m grateful she went to that effort for me.  Such a kind thing for her to do.

But back on our wedding day it seemed to take at least an hour to pose in all different configurations.  We even had to do that weird hand picture.  How young our hands look!  Finally we’d exhausted his roll of film and were permitted to meet up with my family and friends at our friend’s house for a delicious and beautiful lasagna lunch.  The weather was perfect, the day was just right for an outdoor reception.  It was July 16th in San Diego, which could’ve made for a sweltering evening, but it couldn’t have been a more beautiful day.

Everyone was buzzing around that afternoon, I felt out of sorts.  I like to be helping, to feel useful.  But I had to sit this one out.  I do remember getting ready for the reception, changing back into my wedding dress and fixing my hair.  But it wouldn’t do a thing because it was so humid.  I curled and curled, sprayed, used all my go-to tactics.  But I’d forgotten how limp the humidity can make straight hair, and I dismayed but figured, oh well, what do you do?

More pictures.  And this was truly another picturesque setting, with lush green grass, a wooden bridge, a lake.  It really was so pretty.  But I got grumpy all over again, hating this part of getting married.  I felt ugly and restless and hated being the main subject in so many photographs.  And maybe that’s partly why I never revisited the picture idea.

The reception turned out so nice, my mom had worked so hard with her friends to keep it simple but lovely.  The cake was so beautiful, accented with burgundy flowers.  The tables were white with navy ribbons.  Our sisters and mothers found perfect dresses they could wear again.  It was just right.  I loved seeing people I had missed over the years, but I was happiest when the line finally disbanded and I could just sit with my friends and eat.  Out of the spotlight.

Time came for us to change back into regular clothes and to head out on our own.  I hated to leave my family and friends with all that work, and yet I knew there could be no other way.  At least tonight.  I would take my turn over the years, but culture dictates that we leave quickly and ceremoniously into the night.  Married best friends.

Occasionally I’ve wondered what I would’ve changed about the day, you know, when the topic comes up in casual conversation with girlfriends.  I wish I could’ve helped more, taken some of the load from my family.  It was a lot of work with my mom working full-time and with a limited budget, so I wish I could’ve done it all cheaper.  I wish I would’ve been nicer to the the photographer and not been such a brat.  I wish I would’ve cared about my dress more.  Because I never felt that great in it.  I don’t think we had music.  I think I would put that in.  Because music is such a big part of our relationship; we’d rather have background music than a tv in our house, so I think that would’ve been really nice.  But not a dance.  (Even though I love to dance.  It just wasn’t ever on the idea list, thank goodness.)  Maybe had the reception earlier so everyone didn’t have such a long day.  And I wish I would’ve purchased pictures.  But other than those few minor tweaks, it was just perfect for us.  I loved the flowers, the pretty cake, the simple but thoughtful decorations, the setting, the people, having my family and friends with us.  It was a special way to begin our life, a beautiful send-off.  And I think most weddings are beautiful affairs, whatever that looks like to the bride and groom.  Our day reflected what was important to us, and I’m grateful for the careful touches, the time and effort of loved ones.  I felt pampered and loved and peaceful.  I knew what we were doing felt right.  I didn’t know how the rest of our days would turn out, what the years ahead would look like, but we became a team this day, a partnership that would last forever, and it’s those promises that comfort me and give me security in an uncertain world.  Regardless of what happens, I know we are bound to each other.  We were young by most standards, I know, but we knew what we were doing.  We felt confident we could make it.

We spent several years as students, moved across the country and back.  We’re raising five kids together.  Which is a huge blessing.  You just don’t know what kinds of trials will test your marriage over the years.  We’ve had a few bumps.  But every couple who’s honest about it does.  It’s the promises we made to each other on that warm July morning that stick with us, that comfort us and give us security.  We know this is the most important relationship in our lives, next to how we feel about God.  And so we’re careful with it.  We’re not the best, I especially have so much to work on.  But I’m grateful for all we’ve learned over the past twenty years, for marriage that is the the foundation of a family.  I’m so grateful to be blessed with a husband.  Not everyone finds someone to marry.  Sometimes things don’t work out.  Promises are broken.  Life changes us.   And our marriages.   Some say there are no guarantees.  And so I’m grateful for twenty good years.  How many more we’ll have, we have no idea.  But we know our time on earth is short.  And if we’re separated by death, the other would be on the other side waiting.  Our sealer in the temple reminded us of that, and it made me cry that day in the temple.  Because I knew it was true.  That’s why I never cared much about the reception and the flowers.  All I really cared about was getting the marriage part right.  And just like our reception, where I would’ve made a few minor changes, I would also do things better in our marriage if I could have a do-over.  But we move forward, grateful for another day together, for twenty years of living as best friends and spouses, for the institution of marriage, for the deep love that grows from everyday living, and the promise that our love can be eternal.

We were married in the San Diego temple (pictured) on a day just like this. To see what temples look like inside, click here.

A week in the North Woods

Todd pointed out, “You know it’s early when you can still taste your toothpaste (from brushing before bed).” We have the routine down.  We’ve been doing it once, twice, even three times a summer for as long as we can remember.  We set the alarm for 3:30,  but you know what it’s like the night before a trip.  A million last minute additions, regardless of how organized you think you are this time.  We stayed out with our friends later than we should’ve the night before.  And I can’t help but check the clock throughout the night.  Wondering if we got it all.  Hoping, but never really sure till we get there.  Inevitably I wake up before the alarm, forfeiting my last few minutes of sleep, surrendering to the dark morning when no one ought to be up for more than a bathroom break.  But I shower and summon Todd that it’s his turn.  I wake up the older boys so they can shower as well.  A 13-hour summer road trip requires this kind of preparation.  Even the little kids know the drill and dress for the day through mere slits of their heavy eyes, carrying their pillows and blankets to the blackened van, a small cave of familiar comfort enveloped in a sea of stars and silent night sky.  We pack the cooler with grapes, lunch makings, lettuce from the garden, water bottles, and yogurts.  A last walk-through to ascertain that toilets are flushed and lights are off.  We’ve been known to leave the glue gun plugged in for a day, and we’ve made a last-minute return for a forgotten item only to notice the front door wide open.  So we carefully lock up, hoping our house will remain intact for the week.  As we settle in for the drive ahead, intent as can be expected at 4 on a weekend morning, we petition Heavenly Father to watch over us on our journey.  

The town we know so well looks eerily different at such an early hour, and we can’t help but wonder where our fellow drivers are off to.  Before we even reach the highway, all is calm in our van and most of the kids have surrendered.  Occasionally they’ll stay awake and chat for awhile, but not for long.  I, too, succumb for an hour or two.  By 6:30 Todd needs a snack, maybe a Dr. Pepper if it was a late night.  Even pregnant, I’ve climbed all over the van, my yoga for the day, collecting various snack and comfort items for family members.  By 7 or so we need gas.  Everyone stretches, and I hand out breakfast as we carry on:  yogurt, cereal, muffins, fruit.  I take a turn for an hour or so while Todd rests uncomfortably and shallowly.  The kids continue their oblivious slumber for several hours, allowing me time to listen to my own cds, heavenly to be on nearly deserted roads alone with my thoughts.  As the day wears on we stop for sandwiches and gas.  The kids talk with us, we listen to music and audio books.  We make our way through several Dr. Peppers, handfuls of trail mix and sunflower seeds, cookies and sticks of beef jerky.  Some fruit, though never enough in my opinion.  Todd spoils the kids with gas-station sodas and treats.  I sometimes take a turn in the back seats and let one of the kids play co-pilot.  Avery, our 13 year-old daughter, dreads these road trips and the accompanying concoction of sweaty sandals, Funyons, beef jerky, and Zac Brown band.  But we laugh, knowing this is the fodder of fond memories she’ll one day treasure.

Somewhere along the road we lose an hour, but after 13-14 hours we pull off a dirt road and onto Todd’s parents’ driveway, a little piece of paradise, a cabin on a lake.  They’ve put so much work into their home and land, flowers welcome us from every angle, and their garden is in full bloom.  It’s a welcome sight, we are thrilled with the change of venue for the week and enthusiastically embrace the parents we haven’t seen in nine months or so.  It’s a toss up as to what we are more thankful for: to be out of the van or for a homemade hot dinner waiting for us.  We chatter happily, catching up on one another’s lives, easing back into the family dynamic.  The boys and dads effortlessly talk fishing and continue the tradition of playing games late into the evening with popcorn and Dr. Peppers; any other dad/uncle/aunt/cousin who’s around joins in.  The womenfolk might watch a girly movie or read, basking in a free evening void of real-life obligations.  It soaks in.  We’re finally on vacation.

The week unfolds in a predictable but unstructured rhythm.  We all sleep in much later than normal, what with the vacation mood, fresh air, time change, and late gaming.  But Todd and I sneak out each morning for a 3 mile walk to the lake down the dirt road, plastered with bug spray to abate the tenacious mosquitoes and larger-than-life biting flies.  We slowly make our way on the sparsely traveled sandy road, noting the occasional deer or snake accompanied by the cacophony of birds and insects in the background.  We’re home by 9 and wake up our contented sleepers, indulgently basking in their new vacation schedule.

After a late breakfast of blueberry pancakes topped with fresh peaches, we get to to work splitting and stacking wood or weeding the garden.  If it starts to rain we come in and play games or watch movies.  We have lunch meat sandwiches or leftovers and do more of the same all afternoon.  Maybe a small group will fish on a nearby lake.  They might kayak or canoe.  The girls worked on fairy houses all week.  Even the older boys amuse themselves with Legos from their dad’s childhood, unconsciously grateful for a grandma with foresight.  Last summer the kids created a treehouse teepee.  Someone’s always up for a game.  A puzzle patiently waits in the four-season porch if one of us  needs a little quiet solitude.  Nearly everyone is in the middle of a book, and we almost all end up snoozing at some point during the day.  Our kids were fascinated by The Price is Right this past trip, the first time they’d ever seen anything like it.  They think this is the answer they’ve been waiting for, all their financial woes abated.  The news was also new to them.  The girls and grandma and I went to “town” one day (population around 7,000; about 45 minutes away) to do some shopping and to check out library books and to spoil ourselves with lunch out.  Todd, Avery, and I found some buys at garage sales and antique stands and stocked Andrew up on old dishes and kitchenware for college.  He’s less thrilled than we were with the finds.  We picked wild blueberries on the side of the road as a family.  We went hiking and wading at a state park.  We lounged and talked about the past.  We contemplated the future over dinner.  Grandparents can ask the hard questions while providing insightful bits of wisdom from pages of their personal histories.

Some parts of our week in Minnesota remind me of camping.  Sand follows us everywhere.  Instead of pretty-smelling lotions and straightening irons, our beauty routine simply consists of pony tails, braids, and bug repellant.  We rarely feel squeaky clean except for after our evening shower; it’s just so humid and moist otherwise.  We count on a combination of engine oil, campfire smoke, citronella and incense to mask the sweaty smells.

A large family group reminds grandma what it was like to cook for six kids and she itches to try her latest recipe finds on us.  Vacation life revolves around meals, our only barometer of time.  An early dinner allows maximum time on the lake for evening fishing.  Remaining family members might gather around the small campfire with S’mores.  Whoever’s left might watch the news or Weather Channel documentary or an old movie.  Life is good.

No matter how late it gets, we can never fully fall asleep until the fishermen return to tell their tales and to show their wares.  One night this trip we were incredulous as they related their story of the truck brakes giving out while backing down the boat ramp.  Our 17-year-old son who had been directing his dad from the tailgate jumped off to the side right under the truck’s tracks as Todd swerved in order to stop the truck.  We couldn’t believe his close call and are still overcome thinking about what could’ve happened.  The rest of the week they only had the canoe to use, but I secretly liked having everyone around more instead of being a fisherman’s widow.  

As the last of the daylight fades, there’s usually time for one more late-night game after they’ve cleaned their fish.  We might drift off to the sound of grandpa’s late night news report, or maybe the kids will stay up late watching a movie or listening to the tales of the night.  I almost always spend the last part of the day reading contentedly in the basement bedroom with the windows open to the crickets and frogs and loons.  I never get better sleep than in Minnesota, cocooned in soft, clean sheets listening to nature’s lullabies, somehow completely exhausted from doing not much of anything, playing kid again, leaving the adult matters in the hands of someone else for a week.

Before we know it, we’ve spent our allotted days and always wonder why we don’t just plan two weeks instead of one.  We finally get into a sort of rhythm, a routine of sorts, and it’s time to pack up for the trek home.  Inevitable, yet regrettable.  Because now we have to be the adults again and get back to our lives.  Even the intermittent labor of splitting wood during a vacation hardly seems like work, everything is a bit more fun when it’s not your own house or yard or wood stack. But we know we can’t live in the North Woods of Minnesota forever; we’ve made our life here in Montana and a vacation, by definition, is temporary.  But we restock the van with sandwich makings and rhubarb muffins and chocolate chip cookies for the ride home.  We’ve picked up some wild rice, some cool burls for future knife handles (huge tree trunk segments that take up more than their share of the storage area), and of course we’ve got to make sure the cardboard and popsicle stick fairy houses remain intact.  It’s easier to pack this time, we just collect everything that looks like it belongs to someone who lives at our house and squeeze it in.  We’ll do the laundry when we get home, the kids will vacuum their rows of the van, the parents will call with a list of forgotten items.  The light in our cool basement bedroom wakes us before our alarm clock, and as if on cue, the kids know what to do.  We gather for family prayer with the parents, everyone still groggy from another late night, and climb into the capable van that has carried us across thousands of miles.  I don’t sleep much this time, it’s already light and I’ve adjusted to the Minnesota time clock. I’m content to be with Todd, who I normally don’t see much during the week.  We catch up on emails and messages as we regain cell service.  We gradually start to remember what it is we do, we slowly feel our normal life return.  And to be honest, we’d both be happy to put it on hold for just one more week.  We already can’t wait for next summer.  The drive might seem long to some, but it’s a road worth taking.

Behind the scenes of an LDS family

This one is for those of you don’t go to the same church as me.  And who can handle long-winded writings.  Don’t stop here and don’t worry, no doctrine, no silly stuff, I’m not trying to convert you.  I’m good with our differences.  This isn’t about our doctrine, it’s just to give you a behind-the-scenes glimpse into what we’re doing when we aren’t at a school board meeting or running the kids to art lessons.  And why maybe it seems like our heads are in a million places at once.  We are committed; you can depend on us when we say we’ll be there.  But there are reasons we can’t say yes to everything we’d like to or that we’re only able to play a small part.  We’re like you—we have a lot going on and we’re all just figuring out what we can handle, what will work, and how to juggle the rest. I just thought you might find it interesting to see what a week in the life of our LDS family might look like.

We have three teens and two elementary school aged kids at the moment, so life has evolved over the years, providing us a wide range of experiences.  Obviously every family has different needs and makes unique contributions, that all varies with the stages of the family.  In all we do, the church programs are to support the family, and so sometimes we choose to forgo something the church is doing because we need to be with our families.  But here’s a rough idea of what we’re currently doing in a typical week, at least as far as the church stuff goes.  And keep in mind, every family is different.  There’s no such thing as typical!

So starting with Mondays, we have Family Home Evening.  No other meetings or activities are scheduled on Monday nights.  It’s a time to gather as families in the home and talk about doctrine, do service, teach principles, work on home projects like the garden or landscaping an area, visit people, or have other families over.  So many demands pull at our families these days that this is a valuable opportunity to set aside one night a week to just enjoy one another’s company.  If we have sports or other conflicts, we’ll sometimes do a lesson on Sunday night and do an activity on Monday night.  It doesn’t have to be formal, it is completely up to the parents to decide what the family needs.  But we generally sing hymns, read from the scriptures, talk about some principle like honesty or prayer (the kids also take turns teaching the lesson as well as doing the other parts), end with a treat (in the summer sometimes we’ll go out for ice cream or have S’mores or a picnic) and play a board or card game or watch a short video (maybe comedy or something uplifting).  Even if religion doesn’t play into the night, it just feels nice to spend time together.  Any family could benefit from something like this.

Usually once a month the women of the church gather on a Tuesday or Thursday night for additional instruction and practical application of principles.   Any women are welcome.  During this time we get to visit informally and learn hands-on skills like maybe bread or pie making, self-defense, or car repair.  We’ve discussed depression and health issues that affect women.  We’ve practiced sewing and making hats and quilts.  We provide service.  We’ve exercised and cooked together.  We’ve learned about computer programs and family history and how to organize our homes better.  We learn to be better mothers and wives and how to strengthen our families.   These are optional, of course, but so much of what I learned as a young mother I picked up from meetings like these.

Once every other month the youth in our town are able to attend the temple on a Tuesday night, an activity few miss.   Several leaders attend with them.  My 9 year old daughter also has Activity Days twice a month on a Tuesday afternoon with other girls her age, where she has done sports, visited a retirement home, learned to crochet and lead music, for instance.

Wednesday evenings my husband and the older kids go to what is recognized as youth group by most churches.  The kids might play games, do service, learn skills, or go on hikes, just a variety of activities.

Thursday nights our 10 year old son has scouts.  Once a month there’s a pack meeting the family attends, same as in all the other packs in the Boy Scout program.  I just got back from spending three full days at Day Camp with 13 Webelos, including an over-nighter.  And Todd heads to Scout Camp for a week in July.  Just worked out that it’s our turn this year; the kids have a great time and we love seeing them outdoors enjoying nature and honing their skills.

Friday nights we might have friends over or attend the temple.  Or go on dates or just hang out as a family.  Watch movies, play games, sometimes go up to the mountains or out for dinner.  Occasionally we’ll have a wedding reception or the ward will have a dinner or a talent show or some other activity, but not too often.

Saturdays are wide open.  We could have an assignment to clean the church building, attend a scout camp or advancement day, take part in a service project, or attend a baptism.  A week not long ago the younger kids had a summer water activity making ice cream and playing water games.  I helped with a dinner for about 50 that evening and had a leadership training that took me from 2 til about 8:30.  Last Saturday we had a breakfast in a nearby park.  But there’s not something every Saturday, it just depends on the week.

Sundays can be pretty full.  We attend worship services and classes (Sunday School) for three hours.  Then there are meetings as presidencies, councils, and committees.  Some can start before 7 a.m.  We might have choir practice.  In the evenings we could have youth discussions or broadcasts or maybe home teaching visits.  My current assignment takes me to the “branches” in Harlowton, Red Lodge, Absarokee, and Belfry, as well as the various congregations in town, training and supporting the ward leaders.  Todd is over the 12 year old boys.  At the moment our Sundays are kind of quiet compared to some years with more intense assignments.

As part of the normal week high school-aged youth also attend seminary each school morning.  Our boys’ class this past year began at 5:50 a.m.  Others start at 6:30 and they all go for about 45 minutes, and they study the scriptures like the Old and New Testaments.  The boys also work on the Boy Scouts of America program and many become Eagle Scouts.  The girls have a similar program which also requires service hours and projects.  They take turns serving in presidencies in their age groups which involves planning meetings and visiting members of their classes or quorums.  The youth may also serve the ward (or congregation) by leading the music or playing the piano (or organ) in the worship service, for instance.  Young boys ages 12 and up prepare and bless and pass the sacrament each Sunday as well.  There are dances, youth conferences, scout and girls’ camps, special week-long Especially for Youth Conferences all over the country, high adventure and monthly campouts, and of course service projects.  They also help clean the church, take the sacrament to those who are homebound, and go home teaching with their dads or other older men monthly.

Nearly every adult member is a home or visiting teacher.  Every family is given two men to watch over them, ideally receiving a home visit each month.  These two companions—beginning at age 12 to 14—help with anything they can within the families they’re assigned to, whether it’s physically with repairs or meals or just emotionally or spiritually buoying them up.  Each companionship takes turns preparing a monthly message—even the young men—and are assigned maybe 3-10 families to visit each month.  The women are organized in the same manner, except they visit and watch over the other women, helping when babies are born or illness strikes or when a loving ear or heart is needed, ideally visiting each woman she’s assigned to in her home and maintaining contact throughout the month.  And each of these families have others assigned to visit them as well, so we’re all taking care of each other, teaching us to both serve and to humbly accept service.

Every part of the church operation takes work—as in all churches, and so nearly every member of the church from age 12 up is extended a “calling” or way to serve for a time.   These callings could involve serving as meeting house librarian, teaching a class, preparing the weekly bulletin, leading the choir, or running the scout or youth program, for instance.  We take turns and gladly accept the opportunities when they come.  We are not professionally trained or paid, but we jump in, follow the handbook and seek revelation and guidance to do what needs to be done.  We work in presidencies and councils, we delegate and serve together. It all works out because we support each other in our learning, acknowledging that we all have different personalities and strengths.

We, like a lot of you, try to keep up in our journals and compile personal histories, study the scriptures and try to find our ancestors.  It’s hard to fit it all in and, to be honest, we rarely get to all of it.  But we do our best to help each other move or with meals when members are sick or have emergencies or new babies or there’s a funeral.   We have a temple in town, and so many of us are able to go frequently.  There are always ways to help: food to make, kids to watch, houses to clean, porches to fix, potlucks, baptisms, Courts of Honor, missionary farewells, etc.  We recognize there are seasons of our lives, and we can't do all of it at the same time.  There's just no way!

I know it sounds crazy to you, but we can’t think of a better way to live.  We support one another as families, we help each other get to where we need to be, we teach classes for one another for vacations or if emergencies arise.  We just do what we can and do our best to maintain a balance, sometimes foregoing a meeting or activity in order to be with our families.  I’ve lived this way for more than forty years, and it has blessed my life and family in countless ways.  I know it might be hard to understand why we do it all, and I know it looks strange.  But I wanted to give you a glimpse into what we’re up to just in case you’ve ever wondered.

I also wanted you to see why we seem wrapped up in our own lives.  That is something I hate and am working on.  As you can see, we have a lot of commitments, but so do you.  Sometimes when we have a break it just feels good to hang out and relax as a family.  It is so easy to relate to other people who are living a similar life.  We have a lot in common, we’re at many of the same activities and spend several hours a week together.  It’s natural to become close to one another and to develop deep friendships.  But it’s so important that we are not exclusionary, and I find myself struggling with this.  I’m a quiet observer by nature.  It’s hard to put myself out there, to invite people over when I’m not sure what our common ground will be. But I try.  And I want to do better.  Maybe we’re all like this in some ways, sticking with our extended family that might live in town or the families in our neighborhood or people that we’re already friends with.   I know we have different ways of looking at life.  Everyone does.  I guess religion is just extra touchy.  And yet, I think we all have a lot more in common than not; most of us are just busy raising our families, worrying about paying for college, trying to fit everything in, hoping our kids are turning out ok.  I know you are busy in your own congregations and families, but over the years we have been so blessed by the friends we’ve made, those of our faith and those of other faiths.  It has been worth it to find the common ground, to spend time together, to let our kids play, and to help each other as neighbors and friends.  So maybe it seems like we’re preoccupied or unfriendly.  I hope not, but just call us on it.  Or better yet, call us and invite yourselves over.  We would love it and are rarely too busy to hang out with a friend.