divinity


One of the most beautiful sights I’ve seen:
Last night E (my daughter) spread her homework around on the living room floor. She sprawled her own body out in the middle of textbooks, papers, pencils/pens, erasers, etc. As she tapped her toes together while doing math problems, well, it rivaled the most beautiful painting on the Louvre. To see her wholly absorbed in the moment as her pencil moved across the paper, to have her look up at me every once in awhile and confirm a math question. To see the small ringlet curls that had escaped her ponytail, and the way they framed her face.

John (my partner) and my kids can always capture my complete attention. To me they are the most disarmingly beautiful creatures. Perhaps it is sacrilege to say that I worship them. But I do. I devote most of my life in serving and loving these three people. They are my trinity.

It brings to mind a quotation from Jeffrey Holland that I heard a lot this summer at our temple open house. He said “Heaven just wouldn’t be heaven without my wife and children there.” I agree with him wholeheartedly. But I can also say that, for me, every day _is_ heaven. Because every day I mingle with deity.

Note: This is a republished post from pilgrimgirl, Jana’s blog. Due to a carpal tunnel flare-up, Jana’s hands decided to take it easy today….

Jana

Jana is university administrator and History professor. Her soloblog is http://janaremy.com/pilgrimsteps/

You may also like...

No Responses

  1. Brooke says:

    Jana, what a beautiful post. I have noticed what a beautiful family you have in my interactions with them. C’s gentleness, E’s artistic talents, and John’s genuine interest in others (which I think both of you possess equally) and sincerity. How wonderful to get to know you more through your blogs.

    Of course, I would say that I worship my own husband and children. I am in complete accordance with your phrasing, and I have no problem putting it that way.

  2. Deborah says:

    Jana — thank you! You know, I was having similar sentiments toward my students this afternoon as I watched them — voluntarily, on their own time — work on their “Save Darfur” projects. They have such a bold hope that they will be able to make a difference. Working with adolescents gives me glimpses of a prior existence. Some of them simply have too much wisdom to be “only” thirteen.

  3. Caroline says:

    The first thing that made me interested in your family was when John bore his “doubtimony” in sacrament meeting a couple years ago and said that you were his goddess, his savior on Mount Zion.

    I leaned over and whispered to Mike, “I like him. Hey would you ever say that about me?” I think he tried to ignore me since he doesn’t really like it when I talk to him in SM.

    But anyway, I was very impressed, and I think in this post you are beautifully expressing the same type of feeling.

  4. Deborah says:

    “The first thing that made me interested in your family was when John bore his “doubtimony” in sacrament meeting a couple years ago and said that you were his goddess, his savior on Mount Zion.”

    OK, that’s about the most beautiful comment I’ve (n)ever heard from the pulpit. Does he recite poetry, too? 🙂

  5. Dora says:

    The first thing one notices on entering the living room are the books … they are everywhere, filling tall shelves along any available wall space, even down the hallway. The second is the kitchen table, where laptops, projects, homeworking children and parents, and the occassional kitty partake of home-iness. There’s also a piano, sheets of music and other hints of musical endeavors. The inhabitants of the abode will engage you in talk about the fascinating things they are involved in, want to hear all about their visitor, and generally share the love the permeates the place. On leaving, the thought may occcur that there wasn’t a tv in the place at all. Then again, it wasn’t missed in the first place.