On the street where I live

On the street where I live you can wake up see flags at every home, lifted by the morning breeze. Look to the east and you can see the the tops of the mountains, still streaked with snow. Below the snow, pines and aspens soften the edges with folds of green. Around the corner, there is a little park with a hill to run down. Across the street there is bigger park with giant cottonwood trees and a river that tumbles over the rocks, carrying the melted snow.

Walk further and you will see a church where my family can worship, and even farther down there is a store with everything you could want. If you drive a little further you will get to my parent's home where my dad still picks the tomatoes and peppers and pears for us to take home and my mom waits to put her arms around me and ask me if I'm okay. A little further and you will pass my schools and the university where I received and education. Turn west and you will see the temple where I was married to an amazing man.

Return home and you will find three daughters, all unique, all beautiful, standing in the driveway waving sparklers in their hands. You will find enough food in their cupboard and enough places to sleep. You will see their mother, perplexed at the many blessings that surround her, overwhelmed with gratitude for the sacrifices that others have made for this life to be possible.

For my parents, for deciding to have another baby and raising me safely and teaching me well. For my pioneer ancestors who sacrificed their comfort and their lives so that I can worship without fear. For those present and past that have given their lives to protect our country. For their wives and children. For my Heavenly Father, who, for some unknown reason, has placed me here at this time and place, on this beautiful street.