Chirping noisely , the birds share their spring song with me as I sit in rare contemplation among the tall birch trees.
“Mom, what’s the date?”
“Mom, that bird’s pecking sounds like our metronome.”
“Mom, I think there is a beehive by my bench, let’s sit together.”
Laughingly, I am brought out of my reverie to enjoy the beauty with my eight year old. After all, I am here for him;
Here to share my faith, my love, my time–which unfortunatley always seems to run near empty. For some time I have desired to spend an early spring morning in the Sacred Grove with pen and paper to record my thoughts on the events that transpired here. I love that one year ago, I sat in reverie in both the Garden of Gethsemane and the Garden Tomb. They are all connected in the beautiful tapestry of the gospel.
“Mom, I need a kleenex.”
“Mom, I think that’s a mosquito.”
“Mom, I don’t know what else to write.”
What a blessing that in this full stage of life where alone time is minimal and long hours of deep reflection cease to exist-that the Lord sends his comfort, peace and assurance quickly, quietly, powerfully in the moments.
“Mom, I think this might have been the exact spot.”
“Mom, I feel peaceful and happy.”
Me, too. I am confident that the Lord will answer your prayers and mine, as he did for a young Joseph Smith in these trees nearly two centuries ago. It feels like the temple here-sacred, holy, comfortable.
“Mom, there are so many chipmunks here.”
“Mom, I’ve only seen one squirrel.”
“Mom, I need a tissue. Are you coming? I don’t want to walk back alone.”
My sweet child, you are never alone, but yes, I am coming.
Selfishly, I bask in the moment for a few more minutes. I love how the light dances between the green leaves and how I feel at home.
I have been called……I must get to work. Somewhere amid this grove of trees a little voice is calling me.