This Fathers' Day weekend I am so grateful for a dad who listens. Over the past 2 weeks we have spent hours on the phone. My dad is understanding, supportive, and willing to take any measures to ensure his children's safety and wellbeing. Now more than ever, I know I was blessed beyond all measures to have someone who doesn't cast judgement, even lately when I feel like I have slipped so hard.
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| a mission picture I found for the first time this morning - with Colea, Benji and Sister Saint Laurent |
Recently, I have missed the mission a lot. After meeting Sister Slack's family and making knödel with Sister Howsmon {and not to mention watching the 2009
Sissi in German as well as showing off deustche music to the boys}, my mind has been tangled up in memories and raveled in the bittersweet wonderings of what happened since the plane left Munich ground.
Missions are unquestionably hard, but there is always solace for the soul in daily service to the Lord; always a spiritual safe haven in dedicated scripture study and constant prayer and countless efforts to lift others on their journey. My life is... lacking in such things, to say the least. I am no longer that strong and stalwart Sister Lundgreen, that vivacious Katherine of the Alps who... who I DON'T KNOW but was just so much closer to heaven? I have been staring at that sentence for ten minutes now, trying to put words to the concept that she seemed like such a greater person in every way.
But I did three things. Not because I was necessarily trying to change anything, but because in their individual moments of spiritual spontaneity they just felt so so good.
One: I took a summery evening to explore the temple grounds. Those gardens outside the glimmering walls with the inscription, "HOLINESS TO THE LORD," are doubtless one of my favorite locations on this earth. There is an aura of peace there that stills my troubles every time without fail. The feeling of godly love is perplexingly tangible even to those who have wedged themselves in a fortification of numbness.
Two: I turned on General Conference talks by Elder Holland. Three times. He's just so real I can't even believe it.
Three: I recounted in my mind the words of my patriarchal blessing. So much of it resonates so deeply within me, reminding me of the special role God has given me, of the direction and of the potential that I have every capacity to claim my own. I had to remind myself-- this applies to me NOW in just as real a sense as it applied to the fourteen-year-old Katie who cried for joy with the patriarch's hands on her head... in just as real a sense as it will apply to the forty-year old mommy and Mrs. Katie. I had to remind myself there is no such thing as hiatus of God's acceptance nor of opportunity for blessings.
I never quit praying. I may have turned a couple-degrees' worth of a cold shoulder, but I never turned my back on God and I never will. I refuse. Even in the midst of difficulties, He has been so, so good to me. I simply can't deny it.
