A student came to see me a few weeks ago.

She asked about Jake.

About Hank.

I showed her a video Jake sent me of Hank saying,

“Love you mom”.

My eyes watered just watching.

When it was over, she said,

“Wow. What’s that like?”

I wasn’t sure what to say.

It isn’t something I’ve been able to put into words yet.

But I think it’s like catching rainbows.

Jake still remembers the first time he saw a rainbow.

Just after a storm he saw the bowed colors in the sky and pointed them out to his parents.

“Do you know what’s at the end of those?” they asked.

Jake didn’t know.

“Gold!” they said.

Jake could not understand why they were just sitting at home when there was gold to be found at the end of the rainbow!

So, they hopped in the car, and they drove to find it.

Jake said they searched and searched.

He stretched his seatbelt out as far as he could to look over the middle consul to see out of the windshield.

Jake chose the direction they took.

His dad took every right and left turn Jake indicated with little pointing fingers.

It looked like it was just right there,

but they could never quite reach it.

Eventually the emerging sun burned away the colors, but Jake didn’t mind.

He said they laughed and smiled while they drove, and it was one of his favorite days.

Catching rainbows.

A few nights ago, Hank and I were playing on the living room couch.

The decorative glass in the front door cast tiny rainbows through the living room.

The sun was just in the right place.

I could see one on Hank’s shirt, so I pointed it out to him.

“Rainbow,” he repeated.

The awe in his voice was sweet.

So, we tried to catch some.

We crouched down close to the front door, catching the rainbows left on the walls.

Hank laughed and smiled and showed Jake when he got home.

It was one of my favorite days.

Wow.

What’s that like?

Like catching rainbows.
​
And I couldn’t be happier. 

I haven’t always understood the early apostles’ response to the Savior’s death and resurrection. 

Jesus warned them. 

He taught them. 

He told them He would die. 

And He assured them that He would rise again. 

Every miracle pointed to the infinite nature of His ministry and atonement.

Yet, the apostles seemed surprised at His death and even astonished at His resurrection. 

I didn’t understand. 

How did they miss it? Miss Him? 

Didn’t they know Him? 

Walk with Him?

Heal with Him?

Trust Him?

But death is hard. 

And resurrection had never been done before. 

I think the Savior knew they would not understand. 

Not at first. 

He faced that a lot in His mortal life. 

Misunderstanding. 

So what could He do? 

How could He help? 

When words failed and promises were forgotten, the Savior washed feet. 

When Jake was in the middle of treatment he couldn’t shower alone. I sat on the edge of the bed listening and talking to make sure he didn’t get light headed or fall on the slippery tile. 

At the beginning I had to help. 

Some of the most sacred experiences of my life were washing Jake’s feet as he stood in the shower. 

He couldn’t reach them. 

Cancer made even the mundane painful. 

And in the midst of our difficulty, I didn’t know what else I could do. 

I didn’t always understand. 

So I washed his feet. 

With His final mortal day before Birthright responsibility and the Will of the Father pushed Jesus to the edges of Eternity, Jesus gathered His apostles together, 

and one-by-one,

washed their feet. 

Some disagreed, feeling that they should be washing the feet of the Master. 

But He insisted.

Something about washing their feet made Him part of them. 

Even after He died. 

And while they waited for His resurrection. 

So what do you do when they do not understand? 

When words fail and promises are forgotten. 

How could you help? 

You wash feet. 

Every evening a little one and a half year old that looks like me with all of Jake’s colors insists on “bath time”. 

He lets me wash off the remnants of the day, 

dirt, bubble soap, dinner, and more. 

And then he lets me wash his feet. 

I do not always understand. 

Sometimes, despite the promises and the warnings and the words, I still miss things as Jesus works in my life and in the world. 

But I find when I am washing feet, He is part of me. 

And I start to understand. 

And I feel understood. 

And I am happy.

When Jesus came to Earth, He brought heaven.

Everything and everyone He touched became heaven.

Because He was here.

He taught heaven.

People who loved Him learned it.

Jesus said,

When the Son of man shall come in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then shall he sit upon the throne of his glory:

And before him shall be gathered all nations: and he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats:

And he shall set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on the left.

Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: (Matthew 25:31-34)

So what’s the difference?

What’s heaven like?

Who are the sheep?

The goats?

Jesus explained,

For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:

Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.

Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink?

When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee?

Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee?

And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. (Matthew 25:35-40)

Done it unto me.

The difference.

Heaven.

It’s Charity.

Kindness.

How we treat other people.

When I was growing up, I had mixed feelings about parent teacher conferences.

I was a good student, and I tried hard in school, but somehow the meetings still made me nervous.

I remember one specific parent teacher conference my dad came with me.

My sister had one on the same night, so my mom went with her.

It was a divide and conquer type of night.

My dad sat next to me in the tiny chairs in my elementary school classroom, and we talked with my third or fourth grade teacher.

I was excited for him to see my latest art project, hear about how good I was on my green recorder, see the great score I got on my last math test, and to hear about all the books I had read so far.

My teacher went through all of those things with him.

He oohed and aahed at all the right times.

At the end of the conference however, he surprised me.

My teacher asked if he had any questions.

I started to stand, thinking it was time to go.

“Yes, actually” he said.

I sat down and looked up at him.

“It sounds like Maddie is doing great in school,” he said,

“but I would like to know, Is she kind?”

Is she kind.

My teacher was surprised.

So was I.

Was she kind?

In that moment, my teacher was able to share that I had been kind to my classmates.

My dad beamed at that.

As we walked back to the car, I had a little skip in my step.

I also had a firm realization of what was really important to my dad.

As cool as the test scores and art projects were, he wanted me to be kind.

I don’t know exactly what judgement day will be like.

But I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a lot like that parent teacher conference.

I’m sure we’ll be excited to show Him things-

maybe talents, accomplishments, education, a marriage, a great career, a beautiful home or family.

Our Heavenly Father will ooh and aah at all the right times.

But at the end I think He’ll ask,

“But were you kind?”

I hope with all of my heart that in that moment my answer will be,

“Yes.”

And I think He’ll be happy.

Maybe He’ll beam.

And I’ll have a skip in my step.

Because it’s not about me, but how I make others feel.

That’s what makes Him happy.
​
Me too.

I squeezed a little toothpaste on my toothbrush last night taking care to wipe any excess off the tube and carefully twisted the lid back on before replacing it in the bathroom drawer.

That’s how I know I love Jake Topham.

He makes me different.

Better.

Not just in the tiny toothpaste ways but in ways that matter.

He makes me brave.

I love being Sister Topham.

I love being Hank’s mom.

But nothing is so sweet or so sacred as being Jake’s sweetheart.

He’s my best friend.

My soft place to land.

My sounding board.

My cheerleader.

My tech support.

My financial advisor.

My therapist.

My favorite story.

My laundry specialist.

My mechanic.

My secretary.

My example.

My first kiss.

My comic relief.

My personal chef.

My vacuum extraordinaire.

My teacher.

My favorite smile.

My interior designer.

My true love.

My hand to hold.

All the best parts of me.

He’s proof that miracles happen.

They follow him around

Everywhere he goes.

And I get to watch

Right there with him.

We’re partners.

And nothing could possibly make me happier than he already has.

So I’ll try to keep the toothpaste tube clean, but I know he’ll love me, even when I forget.

Happy 26th Jakey T. I’ll never get tired of writing about you.

Sometimes I wonder what the Lord is preparing me for. 

Things stand out to me in the scriptures and in my life and I wonder when I'll need them. 

Sometimes I see the whole picture in a few minutes of studying. 

Other times the lessons learned and the knowledge gained stay with me a little longer, ready for when I do need them. 

Whether I need the stories, the attributes, the truths in the next 30 minutes or 30 years, I'm glad I have them. 

I'm glad they came. 

When Jake and I were first married we lived on Cedar City Main Street. 

It was the perfect place for us. 

I still remember what Jake's car sounded like pulling in the driveway and what the front door sounded like when he opened it. 

We watched for cars and ran across the street hand-in-hand  for treats at the gas station hundreds of times. 

We loved it there. 

Even apart from Jake's sweet company, the house was special. 

It was my Great Grandma Murray's home. 

She and her brother Raymond had moved to a care center and she agreed to let Jake and I stay there. 

If walls could talk. 

I know a little of what these would say. 

My mom visited them weekly to do their hair. 

She bought special hairspray just for Grandma Murray. 

I smell it sometimes and it reminds me of her. 

Whenever I think of Grandma Murray and Uncle Raymond, I think- "long-suffering". 

A Christlike attribute the two lived beautifully. 

Raymond experienced an injury causing brain damage at birth. 

In addition to being his friend and protector in his younger years, she cared for him in their adulthood as well. 

Her father left when they were young and she lost both her mother and her husband much too soon. 

Loie Murray never complained though.

She lived an inconvenient life but whenever I came to see her, she seemed to love it anyway. 

She took care of Raymond for at least 42 years. 

The pure love, patience, and long-suffering I saw in that little house with those little old siblings changed me. 

I remember them and I think of Him. 

In each standard work the Savior's long-suffering" is made mention. 

He was patient despite troubles, especially those caused by others. 

Long-suffering. 

Maybe long-suffering is putting the same toys away, picking up food off the floor, and matching tiny socks. 

Maybe it's trying again despite inadequacies. 

Maybe it's sending a text even if there's no reply. 

Maybe it's going. 

Maybe it's staying. 

Maybe it's inconvenience. 

But maybe it's salvation. 

The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness; but is longsuffering to us-ward, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance. (2 Peter 3:9)

​And account that the long-suffering of our Lord is salvation. (2 Peter 3:15)

Salvation. 

Isn't that sweet? 

Salvation in the Suffering. 

Salvation is the Suffering. 

And Jesus is there too. 

​That makes me happy. 

When Hank was brand new I couldn’t wait to give him a bath.

Even before he was born it was one of the things I was most excited for.

I remember my mom bathing my siblings when they were newborns.

I remember thinking it was so funny that they were tiny enough to take a bath in the sink.

I remember how the soap smelled and the soft, tiny washcloths.

She was so careful and they all loved the warm water.

Hank’s first bath was one of the sweetest moments of my life.

He loved it.

He floated and relaxed in the water.

He even fell asleep just before it was time to get out.

As I washed his face I noticed there was a little dark smudge above his eye.

I softly tried to remove it with the washcloth.

Nothing happened.

I rubbed a little harder.

Still nothing.

I started to worry it might be a bruise or something when I noticed a matching smudge above his other eye.

Eyebrows.

I was trying to scrub off his tiny eyebrows.

Jake and I just laughed.

We truly had no idea what we were doing.

But we loved every minute.

Hank is a great teacher.

Every day I learn something from him.

Something about goodness.

About love.

About tenderness.

About promises.

He makes me-

more.

That’s his favorite word.

“More”.

He says it when he wants more food or more water.

He says it when he wants more books or more songs.

He says it when he wants more of me or more of Jake.

More.

Tomorrow we start a new year.

As I reflect and look forward all I can think of is-

more.

I just want more, I think.

More Diet Coke and audiobooks and car washes with Jake.

More playing in the snow or with my food or with the mirror or in laundry baskets with Hank.

More bath times.

More bacon and eggs for dinner.

More family pictures.

More Hank hugs and kisses and scrunchy nose faces.

More flowers.

More notes.

More Jake and Maddie.

More home.

More time.

More good.

More Jesus.

Just more.

More fit for the kingdom
More used would I be
More blessed and holy--
More, Savior, like thee.

So here’s to a New Year.

To more.

Though I can’t imagine things could get any happier than this.

​Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth? (John 1:46)

Phillip had come to find Nathanael. He told him that they had found “Him”. 

Jesus. 

The One Moses prophesied of. 

Joseph, the carpenter’s son. 

And Nathanael wondered at the thought. 

Can there any good thing come of Nazareth? 

I read an article once about the stories we tell. 

It talked about students in classrooms and how what their teachers said or felt about them mattered, even if the students never heard it. 

My first class student teaching was hard. 

I told myself that the students didn’t care.

I thought they didn’t want to be taught.

One day another teacher came to watch. 

“These kids kind of bother you don’t they?” He said. 

“If I can tell, they can.”

When he left I cried. 

The Spirit whispered, “pray for them”.

And so I did, 
for a while. 

I prayed that they would listen, that they would come on time, and that they would be better. 

That they would change. 

And those prayers were the wrong ones. 

The Spirit taught me that it wasn’t them who needed to change. 

It was me.

So I prayed for me. 

That I would love them.
 
And they weren’t different, 
but somehow they were.
 
The stories I told myself about them were new. They were beautiful. 

They were true. 

And the class changed. 

I changed. 

Jesus was in the temple when a woman taken in adultery was brought before him. 

Woman, where are those thine accusers? hath no man condemned thee?

She said, No man, Lord. 

And Jesus said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more. (John 8:1-11)

The scriptures say she glorified God “from that hour and believed Him. 

He changed her story forever. 

God called Enoch to be a prophet. 

Enoch was worried.

He was young. 

He wasn’t a great speaker.

And nobody liked him.

And so God said, 

Go forth and do as I have commanded thee…Open thy mouth, and it shall be filled, and I will give thee utterance, for all flesh is in my hands, and I will do as seemeth me good…..all thy words will I justify; 

and the mountains shall flee before you, and the rivers shall turn from their course; and thou shalt abide in me, and I in you; therefore walk with me. (Moses 6:31-36)

The mountains fled, rivers turned, and Enoch walked with God. 

He changed his story. 

I have loved Jake for a long time. 

Our first date was over 8 years ago. 

He still loves me. 

He lets me be different.

Be better. 

Change. 
​
And I think it’s the most Christlike thing he could ever do for me. 

Give me the room and permission to change. 

The story he tells about me is better than I am. 

It makes me want to be better than I am. 

Phillip told Nathanael to come and see. 

When Nathanael came to Him Jesus called out, 

Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile!

Jesus answered and said unto him, Before that Philip called thee, when thou wast under the fig tree, I saw thee.
Nathanael answered and saith unto him, Rabbi, thou art the Son of God; thou art the King of Israel.

Jesus answered and said unto him, Because I said unto thee, I saw thee under the fig tree, believest thou? thou shalt see greater things than these.

And he saith unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto you, Hereafter ye shall see heaven open and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of man. (John 1:46-51)

Nathanael did see greater things. 

The heavens did open. 

And our stories changed forever. 

Now mistakes can be miracles.

A fall, a fall forward.

Set-backs, Salvation.

So I listen close to the stories I tell because He tells them better. 

The Greatest of all came out of Nazareth. 

That makes me happy.