I cried when we came over the hill and could see the valley lights.
I cried to hear my children squeal as they realized we were here.
I cried to watch them in their little duck line, walk down the sidewalk to the temple.
We are here.
This weekend is six years since I was baptized, and four years since I came here last for my mission.
It was here that I was again promised a kind husband, and children, and that we would return here for more instruction and another blessing.
And now here we are.
I cried to crawl back into the trailer and see popcorn waiting for me.
I didn’t share.
I brought the kids in one at a time, just to control the chaos, and got them changed and their prayers said and tucked into their sleeping bags.
I brought the baby in, gave her medicine, changed her, changed her oxygen tubes, and plugged her in to the concentrator. I got her fed, and Nathan got her down.
Then I curled up with him, this man promised to me who has been so kind and patient these four long days. He takes such good care of me, and I wonder who takes care of him? He is an example to me, and I am really glad he doesn’t like popcorn.
I am awake far too late, but my fever was hot and my bones on fire and my stomach unsettled, and it was better to get everyone down and sleeping and then deal with me.
I am nervous for tomorrow night, and a little bit overwhelmed.
But it is good and right to be here, and to be here now, and to report back with my very own family.
We are miracles all of us, and we may have come by van instead of handcart, but I feel so weary and so just-in-time obedient that it weakens me and humbles me and I fall at His feet in both prayer and gratitude.
It doesn’t matter the mess that we are, only that we are here.
And that popcorn was waiting.