Reflections

((Warning! About to enter third person...))

Emma moaned a little as she opened her eyes a crack, allowing her to see daylight. She tried to go back to sleep, but that tiny bit of light had done the trick and her mind – without her consent – ground into action.

Her first coherent thoughts were, “I wonder if I’ll have time to shower at this campground before we leave. I’ll have to ask Mom.”  She rolled on to her side. “I wonder if the showers here are nice, or like those ones that flash burning hot and freezing cold without anyone touching the controls.”

She sat up, realizing that such thoughts were fruitless, and that she might as well ask Mom before it was too late.

As she reluctantly opened her eyes, she looked around in surprise and bewilderment. Then as memory slowly returned, she moaned again and closed her eyes. 

She wasn't at a campground at all! She was in her own bed, for the first time in over a month. She had arrived home last night. Unbidden (but not unwelcome), the memory of the night before dominated her thoughts.

She and her family had been so excited when they entered Utah, and drove into their hometown. They had all piled out madly, running here and there to look first at the garden, the cats, and the chickens, all of which had grown tremendously. Then Grandma was there, and Dad. Immediately both were swarmed by a gaggle (I think it should be a giggle) of little girls.  

Emma had run inside, stopping abruptly in surprise when she saw flowers and balloons on the counter. There were also several dozen eggs. As she picked up an egg, Dad laughed and spoke from behind her.

“Those are all the eggs that accumulated while you were gone.”

Emma had turned in surprise, then smiled. “There are a ton of them!”

“And that’s not even counting the ones in the pantry!” Dad agreed. He had hugged her, and said how lonesome he had been without the family.

Yes, she thought, it had been a very happy homecoming from a long trip.

And it had been a long trip!

Her mind ran quickly over the five week journey they had taken across the country.

She thought of the hard times, the tears and the fights. She thought of the stress of going constantly. 

She thought of the times she wished she were home, in her own bed.

But mostly she remembered the wonderful times, when everyone was happy. 

She thought of the many places she had been.

She thought of the fire that had burned within her as she walked where Christ had walked. 

The thought that she had traced the footsteps of the pioneers, and learned their stories, gave her great satisfaction. There her resolve had become permanent, and she had known, for herself, that the gospel that they loved was true. The cause they had died for was worth it.

She thought of the silent awe and overwhelming gratitude as she reverently stepped on the hallowed grounds of battlefields, of the sadness of the cemeteries, and each memory was beautiful.  

She remembered of all these feelings, and each one was like a color, mixing and blending to make a painting.

The sights, and places, the wholehearted fun and the stress of family life, the feelings of reverence, joy and sadness each added their own colors, to make this a painting of contrast and beauty, to be treasured in her memory forever.

That is, she added wryly, unless I get amnesia or something! She grinned and climbed out of bed, ready to begin a new day.