On Hallowed Ground

This week we had the sister missionaries over for dinner, and then they invited me to go to Liberty Jail with them and an investigator.  The last time I went there, it was with Miss Amanda.  She was homeless, jobless, hairless, trying to get her rights back to her son, and investigating the church.  She was going through more than I can imagine.  This time was with Miss Marilyn, who is struggling with lupus, rheumatoid arthritis, and concerned about supporting her disabled adult daughter and that daughter's two children.  And her faith is brilliant. It is sobering to go with people who are dealing with big hard things to watch them hear about Joseph Smith, imprisoned unjustly in the winter as his people were being persecuted and slaughtered with no redress from the government.  And he could have renounced his vision and his work and the things he was doing at any time and walked a much easier road.  But he didn't. It struck me that how he handled these trials, by leaning on the Savior for his full support, made holy the place where we were.  He cried out in mighty prayer and received lofty revelation and peace unlike any the world can give.  It reminded me of one of the verses of my favorite hymn

When through the deep waters I call thee to go,
The rivers of woe shall not thee overflow;
For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,
And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.

(How Firm A Foundation, attrib. John Keene 1787.)

It makes my distress seem petty in comparison.  And yet I hope by plodding along through the things that seem hard--and turning to my source of hope--that I can be made holy as well and that my home can be made a hallowed place.

And now, some silly photos, since the blog posts without them just aren't worth anything. (Or so I've been told by my children.)  The black and whites were taken by my dear friend Hattie, who invites us over to paint pumpkins, takes amazing pictures and visit teaches me. 

We got no photos of Willa being awarded her YW Medallion this week or of Wyatt doing his Eagle scout project.  Or of the sewer line being replaced, even though it involved two small excavators in our yard and a jackhammer in our basement.  Those were all pretty big.  Another mom fail.