Memorial

For memorial day weekend we did a lot of fun things! Brian's parents were in town, so Mark and Tosh hosted a fabulous BBQ.  Mom came with us which was great!  We had friends over, set up kiddie pools, went swimming, went to the park, went to the movies, went to the park again, went to church, and finally, did what is customary for memorial day and went to dad's grave.  Growing up, my mom and dad both told stories about going, flowers in hand, to the many graves of ancestors and loved ones.  They often bemoaned the fact that us children didn't know what memorial day was all about because we never had a grave nearby to visit.  I think that's probably a pretty good problem to have.  I wish my children could experience a similar fate, but alas, it is not to be.  We got windmills, and a butterfly, and a wreath, and some flowers and went to the grave. While there, the weather was beautiful.  I sat on a bench and nursed Argenta while Kolton and Xiana ran, wind blowing through their own toys, smiling and laughing with their ability to make them spin.  There were a couple of older ladies there who came over to admire Argenta.  They commented on how lovely it was to see her there: new life; how sweet and comforting she was.  They thanked us for sharing her with them, if only momentarily. I was again reminded how closely tied new birth and death really are.  Arguably, they are at the opposite ends of the spectrum: the beginning and the end.  But the truth is, instead of being opposite, they are incredibly the same.  There is no beginning and no end to us, our spirits.  As a result, birth and death are a passing place.  Dad went to the heavens, and moments later, Argenta arrived from the heavens. They are on a different point in their eternal continuum, but exactly the same.  We all are.  The veil is ever thinner than we might suppose.  Just because we can't see dad, doesn't mean he isn't here.  And simply because we couldn't see Argenta until a month ago, doesn't mean she wasn't quietly assisting us on our mortal journey; watching, waiting, helping.  I know there's plenty of work to be done on the other side. I don't think dad spends all his or my time at my side.  But I know he is a ministering angel to us. I know he is.  I'm so grateful for the sure knowledge I have of the plan of salvation.  It's perfect.  It's but a moment. And there is no beginning, and no end.