When I was growing up, our family ate most of our evening meals in a small breakfast nook off of the kitchen. Special family dinners were eaten in the formal dining room. Afterwards, Mother and I would clean up. As we worked together, we discussed a variety of profound subjects. Social, school, family, religious, political and moral issues, those especially of the 1960s and 1970s, were conversationally evaluated. We talked about what was right and what was wrong, what was good and what was bad, and what was wise and what was unwise. I was inquisitive and asked many questions; Mother was responsive and instructive. And, after our evening chores were done we sometimes moved from the kitchen to the living room where we continued our discussion.

Recent events in my life have led me to think a lot about serving and giving. My husband became very ill and was in and out of hospitals for a short time. The hospital stays were brutal, but the real work began when he was released and we went home. Caring for my husband and trying to maintain our home at “my” standard was leaving me exhausted to the point that I feared I would also become ill. I recall praying to our heavenly Father and asking Him for the strength and health to continue at what was a dangerously reckless pace.