It was a very hard decision to make. My siblings that live here in the Gila Valley, Thomas, Mary and Rachel, and I all got together to figure out how we would do Christmas Eve. We knew we wanted to do it. I offered to have it at my house. Rachel brought up a really good point, that it would be so special to have it at mom and dad's while it is still their house. As soon as I heard her say that, I knew that I wanted it at mom and dad's house. All of our kids were going to be home and they had been apart of Christmas Eve there, their whole enitre lives. I loved the significance and spirit and specialness that it could be for them. I needed it there more than anything. Mary was having a really hard time with the thought of it there. Shewas feeling too sad about it. Thomas was feeling that it was crazy to have it there since we would have to bring everything since it's all cleaned out. We got to the day and still not with a final answer.
I woke up early Christmas Eve morning. My house was full of people and kids and love and joy and mess. I still could not smell or taste. I had been frustrated from that, and from an insensitive thing Scott and said and done about me moving on about mom and dad. So I didn't really feel in the Christmas spirit. I was missing mom and dad so very much without any support. It was a hard morning. I knew that I had to make the traditional Christmas cinnamon rolls, because mom loved them so much and asked me EVERY year to make them, and she was so happy EVERY year when I did. I loved to see her joy in my baking. I just missed my mom and dad, and it was the first Christmas. So the house was quiet and dark. It was 5:30 am I only turned on one under the counter light, and started to begrudgelingly make the cinnamon rolls. I didn't listen to music or scriptures, or podcast or book or anything like I normally would have, just quiet, and my anguished heart. I felt prompted to pray. I didn't kneel down. I had flour and dough all over my hands and I was racing the clock. So I started to pray in my heart and with my lips I wispered a few words. Almost as soon as I did, I felt peace rush over me, I felt calm and a reassurance of God's love for me. I felt, not heard, I felt mom say to me, through the spirit, that she was so happy that I was making the cinnamon rolls, and that she was happy that I was making them for the family, and that I should help the others feel her joy and happiness and love as well. The spirit was in my kitchen that morning of Christmas Eve. I cried, I never want to forget that special moment, in my messy kitchen when Heavenly Father helped me feel peace during a hard time. I am so greatful for my simple, but strong testimony. Since mom and dad have passed I have never doubted God or His plan, and I am so greatful for that.
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