So, an apology for puking out my stress and frustration--and likely some hormones thrown in for good measure--on my last post. It serve the purpose however, as I felt the relief of getting it off my chest. But my mom did call to make sure I was okay.
I just want to write how much I love serving at the temple. I am a new temple worker. I began the beginning of June. Today was my seventh week of serving there. It was my first day after "graduating" from my training period. I have never felt a most permeating peace than I feel in the temple. It doesn't matter if I'm there as a worker or a patron. The temple is a place of peace. It settles my mind, my heart and my spirit. Perhaps it does these miraculous things because the things we do there are the things that REALLY matter. I like to hope that is it. I know I don't always deserve that exquisite peace, but I feel it every time. No matter what.
I want to share that I love my family. Even when they make me crazy. You know, in case anyone wondered about that.
And I have to share that I ADORE being a missionary's mom. I'm uplifted, encouraged and delighted with her attitude and willingness to serve. She shares the joy she finds in inviting others to Christ. She finds excitement even when a situation isn't exactly what she'd like it to be. She works hard and is a terrific example--to me, to her brother, to our family.
And finally I am grateful to have inherited, either genetically or learned, a sense of humor. Life is hard enough if you laugh through it. If your didn't laugh--you'd be crying. Every day. Laughing is much more fun. Whether that was taught to me or what I was taught only developed my sense of humor faster, I'll take it. Life is short. Laugh. Even at yourself.
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