Gathering Together in an [Almost] Post Pandemic World

 

Last week I attended three parties--three parties that, for the first time in more than a year, included people who were not in my immediate family. It was so great.

As we all know, since March 2020 we have been all about “stay home, stay safe” and socially distancing. We have stayed away from our friends, refused to approach acquaintances, and spurned strangers. When Paul and I went for a long drive and ended up in the town where my old college roommate lives, I begged to stop to see her. But all we could do was stand on the porch and smile over our masks. We have learned to “meet” online—church is broadcast, book club is on Zoom, and work and school are also on a screen. It’s been OK. Not that great of a hardship, nothing like the Great Depression or World War II. And certainly better than actually catching Covid-19.

 

But then, in February, Paul and I had our vaccinations. A few weeks later, and we are clear. We can’t catch Covid, we can’t give you Covid. And, though it feels so strange, we are beginning to reach out to friends beyond our family.

 

I went for a walk. A neighbor I’ve known for 40 years was standing on her front lawn, an older woman, one who has been carefully isolating all these many months. Instead of just smiling and waving from a safe distance as I’ve done for a year, I stepped across her lawn and we visited, face to face. As I left, without thinking, I gave her a hug. Then I said, “Oh no! We’re hugging! Is this OK?” “Oh, my yes,” she said, “I’m vaccinated. You’re vaccinated. Let’s hug!”

 

Then, last week, things really got crazy. Tuesday night was the last night of the religion class I teach college students in our area. All through the school year, we have met on Zoom, making do with the tiny little squares that confine what we can see of each other. With many of us vaccinated, we decided we could meet together for our last class. We wore masks and were careful, but oh, how lovely it was to see all of them in person, to be able to see their whole selves, to see how tall they are, to see how they interact, to really share with each other who we are and what we feel. 

 

Next up was my book club. This club has been together—oh, close to 30 years. We have been through sickness, divorce, and death as well as marriages, graduate school, and retirement. Now we can add to our shared experiences a year of meeting solely on Zoom. It was OK, better than nothing, and did have the added benefit that club members who had moved could now join in. But last week, we met in person, all double vaccinated and clear. As we have for so many years, we could sit together in the same room. It was so much easier to discuss the book when we could read the full body language of those we were sharing with. It was wonderful to be able to reach out a hand to comfort a friend who is suffering. And, perhaps the best part, the part that just can’t happen online, was the way the meeting ended, breaking into conversations of twos and threes, then shifting to other groupings of twos and threes, in the foyer, on the steps, and in the street as we gathered by our cars. Some things just can’t be shared online.

 

Finally, we hosted a baby shower for my youngest daughter. Most of the guests were family, on both sides. But we did invite a few of Mary’s long-time friends. We dressed up and served fancy sandwiches on my best china. We played games and laughed and laughed. We opened presents and collectively marveled that in a few weeks a tiny little person would actually be filling out those tiny little clothes. 

 

There is something about physically gathering. Online, on a screen, we can share ideas and words and smiles—and that is good. But when we can actually come together, physical bodies in the same room, we share experience, we share life, we become one. It is good to gather together. I’m so thankful we can do it again.

 

The Absolute Best Part of a World-Wide Pandemic

I am sitting outside my 2-year-old granddaughter’s bedroom acting as her jailer. It is 1:30 PM, well into designated nap time, and we are determined that Lucia doesn’t stop napping. After all, we have a new baby arriving next month, and we will all need that rest time, even if Lucia doesn’t.

 

So, you may ask, how did a 70-year-old grandmother get to be in this position? 

 

[Excuse me a minute. Lucia just tried to break out again, slowly turning the doorknob, sneaking through the door silently. Then, when busted by Grandma, angelically explaining, “I wake! Time get up!” 

 

No.  Scooping her up, I sweetly explain “Time for sleeping.” And she is once again tuggled up under the covers.]

 

So, again, how did this happen? The answer is Covid. 

 

Over a year ago my daughter Mary and her husband Krystian called us up. Both were moving to remote work for their employment, so, they explained, “Why not come to Provo until we go back to normal? We never have enough vacation time to spend with family, so why not take advantage of this chance? We can work from your home as well as from ours. You can help with childcare and we will get to hang out with family after work.” They went on, “It will just be for a couple of weeks.”

 

We cheered! What a great idea! The best part of a world-wide pandemic.

 

And it really has been. The “couple of weeks” stretched on, as their work continued to require remote work, until here we are, over a year later. While I love having my grown-up kids nearby, there is nothing quite so wonderful as living with a 2-year-old. 

 

[Wait a minute. Do I hear movement behind the door? Ah yes. The handle turns and there is that sweet little pig-tailed head smiling up at me. “I hungy, Grandma?” So pathetic. “No, Sweetheart. Time to eat later. Now it is time to sleep.” Once more, scooped up, kissed, and snuggled, sung to, and tuggled in. We’ll see how long this lasts.]

 

Oh, but, here are the reasons I love having Lucia here:

 

1.     All my grandbabies have been born at a distance from where I lived. I would get to see them maybe two or three times a year, but never could see the day-by-day growth, never could have the daily bond with them. I’ve seen Lucia grow from an 18-month-old who could barely climb stairs and say some words, to a little chatterbox who drags around her little stool so she can climb up on anything and get into everything.

2.     I get to see Lucia first thing in the morning, when she is a little sleepy and cozy. Or sometimes she comes into my bedroom all excited for the day, “Need ‘nana, Grandma! C’mon!” Then she tugs me down the stairs to get breakfast.

3.     We get to listen to songs together. Every morning we say, “Alexa, play Super Simple Songs!” Then we sing along to “The Wheels on the Bus,” “Five Little Ducks Went Out to Play,” and, the current favorite, “Old McDonald Had a Farm.” I’ve never enjoyed doing housework more than when I am be-popping along to Lucia’s music, with Lucia by my side.

4.     Sometimes Lucia is the music master. She has a little story book that will play music when she presses a button. She will press “Hokey Pokey,” and we will put our right legs in, put our right legs out, and shake them all about. We do the hokey pokey, and laugh and giggle and laugh some more. I have to say, that’s what it’s all about.

5.     We have all the toys out that our children played with when they were little. Lucia carefully puts the old cylindrical Little People into their little cars and airplanes and flies them around on all sorts of adventures, just as her mother and her aunts and uncles did before her. It’s comforting to know that some things never change.

6.     We get to read stories together: old classics like Pokey Little Puppy and Home for a Bunny; and new-to-me classics like Ten Little Ladybugs and The Hug Machine. Nothing is better than having a small child on your lap intent on figuring out the story. And absolutely nothing is better than getting to do that every day.

7.     We get to go outside together. This little one sees. And because she sees, I do. Rocks that sparkle, flower petals, grass. The texture of tree bark, the taste of leaves, the movement of a small bug. 

8.     We can play at the park. Up the stairs and down the slide and in the swing. Chase the ducks and climb on the rocks and throw stuff in the water. Everything makes Lucia giggle, and I giggle too when I am with her.

 

Now, that’s not to say some things are not harder. She dumps out the blocks and all the toys every day and, though we sing “Clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere,” this Grandma is the body that usually does most of the cleaning up. I have to do a little more planning to arrange for doing things like go for a walk, read a book, or take a shower. And sometimes, I have to sit outside a bedroom door and be the nap-nazi, forcing Lucia to stay in. 

 

[Here she is again, the sweet thing. No, my dear. You will be happier after your nap. Back under the covers you go with your Minnie Mouse and your binky.]

Here is the best part. I get to do all these things as a partner with my cute daughter and her husband, Lucia’s parents. I get to see what patient and good parents they are. I see them taking time to color with Lucia, to play with her, and to teach her. I see them never ever losing their tempers. I see the way Mary and Krystian work together to parent Lucia with intentionality and love. I see the way they both are always considerate of me, making sure they do not ask too much of me. I see the way they are always so grateful for any help I give.

 

And here is the absolute best part. In just a few weeks, we will have another little one in our home. Mary will give birth in just a few weeks. What a sweet blessing it will be to have a tiny little newborn in our home again!

 

Eventually, Mary and Krystian will indeed go home. As the Covid restrictions lift, they will need to return to face-to-face work and to their lives far away from us. 

 

[By the way, it’s been quite a while since the last attempted jail-break; maybe she is sleeping. Or maybe she is wreaking havoc, very quietly, in the bedroom.]

 

But, for now--oh, what a precious time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some Thoughts on Easter and General Conference

Though we've had some encouraging news on Covid-19, there is still plenty of bad news coming at us. Just today, there was an attempted attack on the nation’s capital, and in the last couple of weeks there were three different mass shootings. And all about us we see a highly divided people who feel contempt for those who disagree with them.  

 

We obviously need help. I believe that God still wants to provide us with the help we need. Just as the ancient apostle Peter received the vision to preach the gospel to all the world, I believe we have an apostle/prophet on the earth today who tells us God’s will, specifically, for this time. This Easter weekend, as we ponder the greatest gift of God--our Savior and his resurrection--also happens to be the time when inspired leaders of our church gather to teach us God’s will. I am excited

 

I’m excited to hear the counsel. Last October, on the eve of a nearly unprecedentedly divisive election, we were taught about unity and the need to love our enemies. After a summer of violent protests against racism, we were reminded that God is no respecter of persons, He loves all, and we must love all. There is no place for racism in the Gospel of Christ. When many were encouraging violence to meet their desires, both on the right and the left, we were taught that violence is not the way to bring about change. In a time when sweeping policy changes are considered as the only means to improving our society, we were taught that it is the small, individual choices that really change society and make that change sustainable.

 

Sometimes we don't see the relevance of counsel until later on. A couple of years ago in conference, our prophet announced changes that seemed unusual at the time. We would spend less time in formal church meetings, the youth program would be more centered on interactions with parents and family, and daily personal and family gospel study would be the center of it all. The Church was to be home-centered, with formal church programs merely supporting what was happening at home. This seemed a bit strange, but as we followed the guidance, we discovered the joy of personal and family study and worship. Then, the Covid-19 lockdown happened, and we realized we had been prophetically prepared for just that circumstance. Though we missed meeting with our congregations weekly, we knew we could worship and learn the gospel at home. Because of inspired counsel, we were prepared to thrive spiritually during lockdown.

 

I’m excited for conference because, sitting in front of my TV in my basement, notebook in hand, I feel a unity with members of my church all over the world. I know members are watching in Africa, South America, Asia, Europe, all over the world. Some have had to travel to find a place where they can stream the conference. Others have awakened early or stayed up late to hear the teachings. A small army of translators provide the messages in over 100 languages. But whatever the language, whatever the setting, the people are like me, eager to learn, eager to become better.

 

I’m excited especially because this year Conference coincides with Easter—providing an even more poignant opportunity to contemplate God’s great love for us. Christ suffered for our sins, died for us, was resurrected—all to make possible the eternal salvation of each person who has ever lived upon the planet. The messages we will hear this weekend teach us how we can follow Christ, make choices that will help us to become his true disciples. The messages teach me what I need to do better at, and they teach me what I am already doing pretty well. It’s a time to review, to recommit. It’s like the football coach’s talk at half-time: I leave the conference fired up to do better, to be better, to help others, to love more, to feel His love more. I’m excited for conference!

 

Lessons from Lockdown

 

Just about one year ago our lives all changed, as school, church, and nearly all social interaction were canceled in fear of a deadly pandemic. Recently I had the opportunity to write about that experience for my neighborhood congregation of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (the Mormons). 

I decided to share this little essay, here on this blog, because maybe as you read it you will think about the experiences shared by your own communities. Maybe you will recognize, as I have, the many lessons we have learned together during this extraordinary year..

 

For one thing, we learned we can be unified even when we are forced to be apart. In the early weeks of the pandemic lock down, our neighborhood was eerily quiet, as even children stayed indoors. Yet we found ways to show that we cared for each other. Funny jokes were posted on the telephone poles, and a daily neighborhood poll was posted on one neighbor’s front door (with colored pebbles to record our responses). The sidewalks blossomed with hopscotch challenges, pictures, and inspiring quotes. Some front yards held chairs spaced six feet apart, so that neighbors could stop and chat safely. When Bryce Orton, because of the pandemic, was forced to return home from Colombia where he was teaching others about our faith, we held a  parade of decorated cars to welcome him.  Instead of a Primary party for the children, we were treated to a gallery of the children’s artwork, posted all around the church yard. Instead of a Christmas party, the church parking lot became ancient Palestine as ward families portrayed scenes from the birth of Christ. Car by car, we all drove past, listening to that sweet story and, though in separate cars, feeling unified by the Spirit of that season. 

 

We have learned how to go through hard stuff and become better. Children have been home all day, with no friends, and no school to give parents a break. And on top of that, we’ve had to help the children try to keep up with school on-line. We’ve had to work from home; some of us have lost jobs. Some of us have been very sick with Covid-19, even hospitalized. When some were very sick and dying, we were not able to visit them in the hospital or care center to comfort them. When some of our dear friends and neighbors passed away, we missed having the chance to mourn communally at a funeral service. And yet, with each hard experience, we have learned. We learned how to work together as a family, we learned to manage on-line school, we learned how to support from a distance those who were ill, we learned how to mourn without a funeral lunch. We learned to pray and rely on God. We learned to handle the challenges with faith and grace. 

 

Through it all, we learned that, even if we can’t go to church, we can worship and draw closer to God. We were thankful for the Church-wide “Come Follow Me Program,” instituted just before the pandemic hit, which provided materials for our personal and family gospel study. Perhaps before Covid, we were more comfortable sharing spiritual experiences formally in a testimony meeting or a Sunday School class. But during Covid-times, we found that we were sharing our gospel insights more naturally and more often with those in our homes.  I have loved hearing many of you tell of the sweet spirit you have felt in your homes as you have studied together. I have certainly felt that spirit. Some of us used Zoom to hold gospel study meetings with distant extended family, meetings that I imagine will go on even after the pandemic lockdown is lifted. The blessing and power of the priesthood became even more real to us as we watched our husbands and sons prepare and bless the sacrament [Communion] each week in our own living rooms. Together, we joined in a Church-wide fast, praying for the pandemic to be alleviated. Together, we shared on social media the many things we are grateful for. And, as we faced the challenges of the pandemic each day, we felt the real need for the grace offered us by our Savior’s atoning sacrifice. 

 

There is no doubt that the last year has been hard. A year ago, we never would have believed all that would happen. But it has happened, and we have survived. We have not only survived, but in some ways we have even thrived. I feel I am a better person now than I was a year ago, and I imagine many of you feel the same. As President Russell M. Nelson [the president of our Church] taught us last October, “Unusual times can bring unusual rewards.” May we all bring the lessons we have learned into whatever the future holds. 

 

Why I Like Facebook and Hope You Will Too

 

 

Today one of my Facebook friends posted that she was going to leave social media. She is not the first. Many of my friends are doing this, and my Facebook feed is getting sparser because of it.

 

I get it. These days there can be a lot of Nasty on social media. Feelings are running high, and sometimes posts and replies can be harsh.

 

I also understand that many fear the power of the Facebook company, with its various algorithms and such. Or there might be legitimate privacy concerns, such as those my niece has because her husband is an FBI agent.

 

But I like Facebook for many reasons—most of which will disappear if my friends give it up. So, here is my plea.

 

Please stay on Facebook and keep posting cute photos of your kids’ Halloween costumes. Many of you live far away and this is the only way I can see how those kids are growing and changing. And these days, I don’t even get to see the neighborhood kids unless you post their photos on Facebook.

 

Please stay on Facebook and share your joys. I love seeing your remodeled kitchen, hearing about your new job, and learning about what you cooked for dinner. In the midst of Covid-quarantine, I learned that a neighbor in the next block had a new baby. I hadn’t even known she was pregnant! What a joy to be able to share happiness with those I don’t see often. 

 

Please stay on Facebook and share your trials. One Facebook friend posted regularly during the weeks and months of her father’s last illness. Through her candor, I was able to share in this loving journey, and remember my own father’s death. I came to love her more, understand myself better, and appreciate all we share as humans. 

 

Just recently another Facebook friend shared her daughter’s serious illness. I wouldn’t know about this without Facebook, but now I do, and now I can add my prayers to hers.

 

Please stay on Facebook and share funny pet videos, memes, and jokes. I love to laugh with you even though we are far apart.

 

Please stay on Facebook and share your uplifting thoughts. Often the quote or scripture or video is just what I need.

 

And absolutely continue sharing your adventures, hikes, vacations, and the beauties you find. I love vicarious traveling!

 

Please stay on Facebook and participate in the special FB groups. Our neighborhood Facebook group is such a great way to share stuff. I love cleaning out a closet, finding something good I don’t need, posting about it, and sending it to a new home where I know it will be appreciated. I love getting free stuff too. Last spring, not long after my daughter and her family came to stay with us for Covid, someone posted they had a child’s kitchen to give away. I snagged it and little Lucia has been happily playing with it for months.

 

I also love the Provo Facebook group where I learn about what’s going on in the city, and about issues facing our community. I love hearing the different perspectives and then making my own decisions. 

 

Which leads me to my last point, which surprises even me. Please stay on Facebook and keep sharing your opinions. I know this is the very reason that people are quitting Facebook. 

Okay, just give me a minute here to explain. 

 

Among my Facebook friends are people with very diverse viewpoints. There are ultra- conservative folks and ultra-liberal, as well as lots of people more in the middle but trending one way or another. I often don’t agree with what people say in their political posts, but I like all the people I have chosen to add to my Facebook. Because I like them, I give them a chance, and I try to understand what is behind their posts. Even though their posts may not persuade me, I think they provide me with a broader understanding of the make-up of our country on this election eve.

 

That said, personal attacks and angry exchanges are not what I look for on Facebook, and I try not to read those. Certainly, they are not to be engaged with.

 

Also, though I enjoy seeing links to news articles that back up friends’ opinions, I do not rely on those links as my sole source of information. I believe in getting my news from professional news organizations, not from Facebook. In fact, I try to read several different news reports from a variety of sources with different political leanings. That way, in the aggregate, I get a more balanced view of what is actually going on. I depend on Facebook to connect me with people, not as a way to gather facts.

 

That is why I am making this plea. I rely on Facebook to connect me with you. And you. And you and you and you. Facebook helps me to see the world--not as monolithic parties, coalitions, or blocs--but as a collection of faces, of individuals, each one with joys, fears and opinions. It helps me know that the conservative is a person. That the liberal is one too. That maybe we can learn from each other and become a little better because of what we learn.

 

So please, stay on Facebook. I believe Facebook has the potential to help us become a community, a place where we can learn from each other, help each other, pray for each other, and lift each other. I believe, used well, Facebook can provide us with the personal connection that can heal our neighborhoods and our country.

 

And now, whatever happens on Election Day, that is what we need. 

 

 

In Praise of Print Newspapers

 

I started today as I do most every day: padding out to the driveway in my jammies and socks to grab the newspapers. Yes, that is plural. We subscribe to print versions of both our local paper, The Daily Herald (“Utah Valley’s Source for Local News”), and a national paper, The Wall Street Journal. We used to also subscribe to the print New York Times, but it was really hard to find time to read all three, and I eventually cut out the one that seemed to be the last one read. Now I read the Times online. 

 

Once I get the papers, I slide them out of their little plastic casings, spread them out on the kitchen island, and get ready for breakfast. As I eat my eggs and yogurt, I page through each paper. Starting with the local paper, I read about the latest doings of the city council, the local high school sports, the latest from the school boards, the startling stories on crimes in our quiet town, and the reports on neighborhood businesses and service organizations. I scan the obituaries to see if anyone I know is there, and I check out the opinion page for commentary on what’s going on in the area.

 

 I always finish by reading the comics page. It’s a good day when they provide a chuckle, a great day when a strip makes me laugh out loud and want to share it with my husband. 

 

Then, I move on to the Journal: reading the stories on the front page, paging through the A section to learn in more detail about the “Breaking News” stories that have shown up in headline form on my phone already. Sometimes the reading of the Journal in detail has to wait until lunch, or another lull in the day, but I always read it. I especially enjoy reading the opinion page, which gives me new perspectives and insights on the news of the day. 

 

Then the rest of day I find myself saying to those around me, “Did you see the piece in the Herald about. . .?” or “There was an article in the Journal that really started me thinking.”

 

It’s a lovely routine for me. I’m not sure I can eat breakfast without a paper spread out before me. I’m not sure I can make sense of the world around me without the papers to provide information and commentary.

 

This morning, though, as I turned the pages of the local Daily Herald, I received a nasty shock. There, at the top of A4, was a terrifying headline: “Both SLC [Salt Lake City] newspapers to cease daily publication.” TheDeseret News and the Salt Lake Tribune have been publishing the news since the early days of the Utah Territory, long before Utah became a state. They have balanced news reporting for the state, the Deseret News being the more conservative paper and the Tribune the more liberal. What will happen without them?

 

Of course, the papers are not gone forever. The two papers will still be reporting the news, only in a digital format. They will also still publish a print paper once a week. I suppose this is an inevitable move. Once newspapers were supported by business advertising and the classified section; now that has all moved online. Subscriptions can only pay for so much of the cost, especially since fewer and fewer people are subscribing to print papers. 

 

It is so easy to get your news on your phone, in those “breaking news” alerts, or even on Facebook or Twitter. Recently I filled out a survey with a question on how I received my news. The choices were TV News, Facebook, Friends, or Twitter. I had to admit my print newspaper addiction under the “Other” category.

 

Losing print newspapers is a loss, though. Here are a few reasons that come to mind

 

1.     Depth of reporting. The news reports I find attached to friends’ Facebook posts or coming across my phone as an alert are generally pretty sparse, not much more than a headline. I don’t see the depth or analysis I find in the print paper. Often the references to the news found in friends’ Facebook feeds tend to be sensational and biased. 

 

2.     Competing digital distractions. When I read news on my phone, even if it is the same story found in the print version of the publication, I skim through it pretty quickly. There is so much more to be found on my phone that I tend to move on pretty quickly to other available stuff: friends’ vacation photos, funny memes, cat videos. Though I suppose it is possible, it seems harder to read seriously when reading news on my phone.

 

3.     The serendipity effect. When I read the news online, I often go looking for something. I know what I want to find out about (the latest debate, the stock market news, what’s happening in the middle east, the latest Covid numbers

), and thanks to efficient search engines, I can find what I want in seconds. I read the article I’m interested in and that is that. When I read the paper, I turn page by page, scanning all the headlines. Often, I find something interesting that I didn’t even know was a thing. I am broadened by information I didn’t even know I needed or wanted to know. 

 

I suppose we will get used to the change. If the Daily Herald and the Wall Street Journal ever cease their print publications, I suppose I will get used to eating my eggs while reading the news on my phone.

 

 I just hope those digital venues will also include a comics section.

 

 

A Covid-19 Family Quarentine

So here's what I think about the Covid-19 quarantine: I don't know. Here are a few thoughts.

On the one hand:

Eek! It’s a world-wide plague! We are all going to die!

On the other hand:

What an overreaction! It’s another disease and some people will die from it, but, come on, we are all going to die sometime. 

And then on yet another hand (foot?):

The economy is going to implode. All businesses are going to be destroyed except Amazon and Netflix! We will be functioning like hunter/gatherers before the year is out.

And then on that other hand:

Everything will get back to normal soon. We’ll be OK. Right?

So, probably like a lot of you, I’m feeling pretty conflicted. And I don’t feel at all qualified to comment on any of the above.

But here is something I am sure of. I love this one side-effect of the quarantine. I love living in a multi-generational home.

I am not quarantining alone, as many of my friends are. Because of a variety of circumstances too complicated to go into here, I am co-quarantining with about fourteen of my immediate family. Before you begin to worry about us, we are pretty careful. Only one of us goes to the store, wearing a mask. We don’t hang out with anyone else, just us. 

We have living with us (or with us every day) for the past eight weeks or so our adult son and his two little boys, our adult daughter and her husband and baby, and our two teenaged grandchildren. Add to this my three children who live nearby and their families, who come in and out frequently, and the result is we have been together as a family, closer and longer, than we have since the kids started getting married.

And I love it.

I love waking up to the sound of piping little-boy voices asking for breakfast. I love Mary walking in the door with toddler Lucia, who runs to my arms saying “Gamma, ‘side?” And then we go outside.  I love helping the little boys with their schoolwork and getting to know Olin’s teacher and learning how to make a catapult out of popsicle sticks. 

I love having David come down for lunch and tell me about the people he works with and his challenges and successes. I love seeing Mary in the dining room working on grading papers and hearing her talk about her students. I love seeing David and Mary and Krystian take care of their little ones with such patience.  I am getting to know my adult children all over again, as I see them every day, all day. 

I love having the teenaged grandchildren around, seeing their diligence in doing their schoolwork, seeing their delight in helping the little cousins, laughing and playing games with them.

I love having help nearby when my computer doesn’t work. We finally got the TV and sound system working right, because of all the tech-savvy folks around. 

I love that Mary can drop off her child and say, “I’m going for a run.” It is such great symbiosis: I love having the baby with me and she loves having a break. 

I love that we are together all day. We can read a scripture in the morning, like this recent choice: “You will teach your children to love one another and to serve one another.” And then we can talk about it through the day—when loving and serving gets a little tricky. 

I love seeing my table full of my loved ones at every meal. I love how everyone pitches in to cook and to clean up. 

I love seeing the adults talking together, advising one another, laughing together. I love seeing the teenagers learning from their aunts and uncles.

I love worshipping together on Sundays. Even though we can’t gather with our congregation, because our church has a lay ministry, we can take the Sacrament (Communion) every week in our own living room. I love seeing my sons and sons-in-law blessing and passing the Sacrament. I love playing the piano as we sing the hymns. I love hearing everyone share what they have learned from their scripture study that week. 

As we move toward lifting the quarantine, I am of course happy. I’m happy that many lives have been saved, happy that businesses can resume business, happy to look forward to seeing friends and going to the mall without fear.  But I am also a little sad. How I will miss this time. How I wish we could remain in such closeness. 

A couple of generations ago, my ancestors all lived within a few blocks of one another in the small town of Spanish Fork. My great-grandfather would go out every morning with a basket on his arm to visit every one of his children, to bring them whatever he had to share that day. When my mother was a child, every day before school she and her sister would run next door to their aunt’s house to have their hair braided, because Aunt Edna could do it better than their mom. When my grandmother was widowed, her mom was able to tend the children so she could go to work.

Though I know it is often impossible and sometimes even not advisable, right now Covid-19 has reminded me how good it can be when family are near enough that they can help each other, not just in crisis but in everyday, ordinary, without-even-thinking-of-it-circumstances.  Just because we are family and we love each other.