December 19, 2025
This has been a week of well-deserved celebration.
On Tuesday, we celebrated our daughter-in-law, who graduated from Arizona State with a degree in secondary math education. Perhaps, had she been my math teacher in high school, I would have been better prepared for college calculus. (I may or may not have failed every single calculus test I ever took in college, somehow passing the class because of the magic of group work. Hypothetically, of course.)
Yesterday, we celebrated our son, Andrew, who is lucky enough to be married to Deanna and who also graduated from Arizona State with a computer science degree, with an emphasis in cybersecurity. Hackers beware – he’s on to you!
They have both worked incredibly hard to get to this point. We are so proud of them and cannot wait to watch their next chapter unfold.
Yesterday, we also celebrated Jordan and Daneé’s anniversary (our oldest son and his wife) by watching their two babies for a few hours so they could go on a much-appreciated date. We may have filled the three-year-old with ice cream (his declared “favorite”) before sending him back to his parents for bed, just like a good Nana and Papa should.
And, in two days, we will celebrate Andrew and Deanna’s first anniversary. (It has been a big week for those two!) Last year, at this time, we were running around like headless chickens calmly and orderly finishing the final preparations for their wedding, whistling while we worked. The Seven Drawves would have been so proud.
Side note: We have planned two December weddings in the past four years and have officially decided we are done with that. When our other three kids decide to get married, December is off the table if they want our help. (#sorrynotsorry)
Moving on…
With all this talk of celebrations, perhaps now is a good time to mention that I believe this year’s calendar to be incorrect. The calendar dares to claim that Christmas is in six days. SIX DAYS. And that is, in fact, impossible.
It is, for starters, 80-freaking-degrees outside. That is far too warm for Christmas, even in Phoenix. I want to wear a sweater without sweating, so please pass that message along to Jack Frost, who is clearly taking the month of December off. (The nerve…)
Aside from that, raw emotions, stress, uncertainty, and historic breakdowns have done a number on my holiday spirit. Sure, the lights are up and the tree trimmed. There are even a few packages under the tree that somehow survived the puppy Christmas tornado. I even got my act together long enough to order, address, and send a few Christmas cards.
But it has mostly felt like going through the motions.
Yesterday, before Andrew’s graduation, I started my day by working at the temple. Before each shift, we have a prep meeting, where the temple presidency trains us on various aspects of our job as ordinance workers.
Yesterday’s meeting was different. The temple presidency decided to forgo any official training and use the time for a Christmas program instead. We sang several Christmas hymns between short sections of narration that all pointed to Jesus, the babe of Bethlehem, turned Savior of us all.
And, somewhere in the middle of the music and inspired words, I found myself trying to swallow the lump in my throat and willing myself not to allow the floodgates behind my eyes to burst open, lest I not get them closed again before my shift began.
He whose birth we celebrate during this season was in that music and those words:
“Oh come, all ye faithful…come and behold Him…come, let us adore Him.”
That word “come” struck me straight in the heart because I have felt it differently these past months. Before that, the invitation to “come” felt like the precursor to an exciting event. Now, it feels a bit more daunting:
“Leave behind the life you have built and come, follow Me to Missouri. Will you come?”
Granted, there is some excitement in that invitation. What wonders does Missouri hold for us?
But what I felt in the temple, surrounded by friends and enveloped by the Spirit of the One who is doing the inviting, reminded me that His invitation to “come” is just that – an invitation. It’s not a decree or a mandate, but an opportunity to walk with Him, learn from Him, and build a life upon the foundation of His influence.
And there, dressed in white, fighting back unexpected tears, I knew I wanted nothing more than to be among the faithful who would come and behold their King. That King no longer lies in a manager, but sits on a heavenly throne, still beckoning me and you to come boldly to Him.
And, if the process of coming unto Him leads me to a faraway place, I will glory in the adventure of it all because I glory in Him.
The vineyard is vast, but He, the vineyard’s Master, knows every corner and every tree. Does He not, then, know where He could most use additional servants like you and me?
I will, therefore, come and behold Him.
Come and adore Him.
Come and follow Him.
Come and serve Him.
Come, joyful and triumphant, and offer Him my whole soul.
That will be a celebration worth attending.
**Read the rest of this series here.
