Write at the Heart

Fall kinda stresses me out. As soon as I see those first colors make their grand appearance, I’m half happy gushing over the season and half heartbroken thinking of its end. Alas, it always does, despite my pleadings! Goodbye Fall, goodbye. But... of course I know it’s not the end. The leaves will be back. They will! You know what else comes back? Hair. Today I tried to trim side bangs & in an unfortunate series of events, I accidentally cut WAY TOO MUCH.  So now I resemble my 4th grade self.  It’s fine. 🤦‍♀️ But guess what- hair grows back! It is not the end! “Has the end come yet? Behold I say unto you, Nay; and God had not ceased to be a God of miracles.” (Mormon 9:15) Those words stood out to me this week! Whatever happens in life, we can be assured it is NOT the end. Things may look bleak for awhile. But this is the 2nd act in a 3-act play. There is always hope! Rob Gardner’s album “The Lamb of God” is so touching, and I recently listened to “Here is Hope,” meant to ...

A few years ago my then 5-year-old was jumping on our brand new trampoline when suddenly I heard shrieking, “I BWOKE MY ARM!” My heart froze and I ran, really scared at what I’d see. What I saw left NO doubt- his arm was definitely broken! Gently placing his floppy arm onto a pillow while he cried in pain & terror, we raced to an urgent care, who told us to head directly to the hospital cause he was gonna need surgery! He’d broken it just above his elbow ALL the way across. About the worst arm break you could get.  After a lot of screaming, crying, bruising, swelling, an artery spasm, surgery with 3 pins put in, my brave boy was on the mend. The day finally came to get his cast off and I had my doubts. I’ve never broken a bone myself, so it seemed IMPOSSIBLE that his arm could go from that grotesque, limp thing I saw to a fully functional arm.  And yet- before my eyes was his healed arm! I winced as he moved it around, sure something would snap! But no- the bone had fused ...

Every week when we’d visit my grandparents, my oma would ask if I brought my piano books so I could play for her. If I’m honest, it annoyed me a bit because I really just wanted to watch TV. But we were close and I loved her dearly, so I played. She was on dialysis, and it wasn’t going well. The sicker she got, the softer she spoke, and with her thick German accent it became so hard to communicate! I felt so frustrated because she’d try to talk to me and I could barely understand her. But when I played music, we were on the same page. We understood. I started playing for her every chance I could. Sometimes she’d start sobbing in the middle of a song, startling me. I remember specifically she would cry when I played “Traumerei” by Schumann. “Traumerei” means “dreaming” in German. She’d say, “It’s so beautiful.” It still chokes me up. I saw music differently. It connected us. Oma was dying, and she wanted me to play. That was what she wanted from me in that last bit of time she had on ea...

  The phrase “Lift up your head” has been running through my mind all week. With their faith and their very lives at stake, Nephi was “exceedingly sorrowful” and “cried mightily to the Lord” 3 Ne 1:10,12) And then, a voice: “Lift up your head and be of good cheer; for behold, the time is at hand, and on this night shall the sign be given, and on the morrow come I into the world” (13) I wish I could see Nephi’s reaction! Did he shout for joy? Did he cry with gratitude? Did his heart race at the reality that the Savior was about to be born? Did he run to reassure the believers that everything would be all right? Did he think, I’ve been waiting my whole life for this! Did he say to himself, I KNEW IT! I KNEW He would come! We’ve all looked down in sorrow. We’ve all carried heavy burdens. Maybe it’s weakness, shame, guilt. Maybe we feel unloved. Doubt. Fear. Anger. Powerless. Disappointed. Stuck. Confused. Twisted inside out in this upside down world. Darkness. So many reasons to look ...

When my husband’s brother passed away, we spent the day at the hospital saying goodbye, mourning with family, crying all the tears we could shed, and trying to process our grief. He was gone. We went home to our devastated children with swollen eyes and heavy hearts. And an empty kitchen. I hadn’t done grocery shopping and it was now Saturday evening. Exhausted, I prepared to head to the store. Then a knock came at the door. Dinner. And another knock, some groceries, “just to get you by the next couple days.” I cried. Over the next few days, more kindness, more angels. Every little thought lifted us. Despite the pain, we were in a pocket of love. People mourned with us, comforted us, strengthened us. They shared our burden. Brought us hope. We all know the story of the army of Helaman. But what about the army of Antipus? When Helaman found them, “they were depressed in body as well as in spirit, for they had fought valiantly by day and toiled by night to maintain their cities; and thus...

Three years ago my husband’s brother lost his battle with cancer, leaving a huge hole in our hearts. Watching my husband mourn his best friend, his hero, was painful to witness. My husband is so much of who he is because of his amazing big brother. We will see him again. ❤️ We are taught about resurrection since we are in nursery! I have early memories of the good old glove analogy. It’s second nature to us. However, when Christ’s apostles found the empty tomb, “they were much perplexed.” (Luke 24) Christ had told them what would happen, but it was such a new, out-of-this-world idea, they did not understand. Even when Mary and other women told them he was risen, “their words seemed to them as idle tales, and they believed them not.” Peter went to the sepulcher and “wondered in himself” at what happened. And then when Christ himself showed up, “their eyes were holden that they should not know him.” They proceeded to hang out with him, abided with him, and still... didn’t know who he was...