From Novemember 22, 2003
It is a cold wind blowing on this
blustery winter day. Even though you are bundled warmly and thickly, the
pelting grains of ice and snow beat against your face and chill you to the
bone. Before you can even get to the door, I swing it wide open for you, and
for a brief moment you feel the warmth of the house escape into the cold. I bid
you welcome into my home, humble as it may be. It is not a mansion, it is not
pretty in any way, but it is cozy and warm, and you know in your heart that you
are welcome there.
Come inside! We are so happy to see
you! Welcome to our home. I want you to feel that way every time you open the
cover to a new family newsletter. I want you to feel as though you have “come
home”.
When we were growing up, we lived in
many different houses and in several different locations. If I were to ask
which house or town you remember the most as your childhood home, chances are
pretty good that each of us would give a different answer. As for myself, I
remember each of the houses that we lived in as home. I just don’t associate a
house with home.
As an adult, I often measure events in
life by the houses we’ve lived in, yet I never did as a child. When I think of
home I remember a place where I was surrounded by people who I knew and trusted
would always love me and protect me. I always knew that I was safe, no matter
what.
I remember many squabbles between
children and even some between parent and child, but my memories of warmth and
unconditional love will never fade. I remember meal times, the commotion of
passing food (always to the right), the usual spilled glass of milk and Dad’s
remarkable reflexes in jumping back from the table.
I remember holidays like Easters and
Christmases. I remember vacations and spontaneous little day-trips here and
there. I remember trick-or-treating with my older brother dressed up as a
wizard and being terrified by some of the places we visited. I remember
returning to the comfort and safety of home.
Home is not where you are, but what you
make of it. Home is where there is safety, and unconditional love abides. “Home
is where the heart is.”
Every time I produce a newsletter, it
is like going home. I get to see how everyone is doing, who lives where, who is
getting married or having children, who is going to school, who is serving a
mission—it’s like having a chance to put everything else on hold for just a few
minutes and say to myself, “Wait a minute. This is my family. I want to see how
they are doing.”
I am so grateful for the opportunity I
have had to put out the Family Newsletter for so long. It has been hard
sometimes, and it can be costly, but it’s among the most awesome gifts this
world has to offer. It has been wonderful to see my nieces and nephews grow up
into the most amazing young adults. I am so proud of them all. It is so awesome
to see my own brothers and sisters blossom and mature into the most statuesque
of all the trees in the forest. And it is beautiful to see Mom and Dad at the
head of the most magnificent forest of them all. Just look at what they have
started. Look at what they have done for us.
I say the Family Newsletter is a rare
gift to all of us. No matter how many issues a year, it will always retain its
uniqueness and it’s unbreakable bond of divine worth which keeps us all
together in the most subtle of ways. This newsletter isn’t about me, it’s about
all of us. I am so proud to have been a part of it.
So welcome to my home, and thanks for
coming by. I hope that your stay here is a warm and happy one. Remember,
regardless of whatever status or situation you may currently be in, it doesn’t
matter. Here, you are welcome, and you are loved.
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