December 28, 2025
This past week has been a bit of a roller coaster. And by “a bit of a roller coaster,” I mean “hold onto your hats and glasses ‘cuz this here is the wildest ride in the wilderness.” But without the Disney magic.
It all started with a little bit of Christmas mayhem.
The whole family, minus our sweet Hermana Sheppard, who is serving in Georgia, came to celebrate our last Christmas in our home of 13 years. These walls were filled to the brim with the hustle and bustle of people, babies, and holiday magic.
Even Andrew and Deanna, who live just 45 minutes away, slept here on Christmas Eve after participating in our traditional Christmas Eve festivities. At the Sheppard home, the festivities began with a gingerbread house showdown, where Carson made a graham cracker replica of our home. (You can tell who has artistic talent in this family, and it is not me.)
Andrew, who just celebrated his one-year wedding anniversary, built “Shep and Deanna’s Licorice Love House.” The creativity in this family abounds.
My three-year-old grandson was only interested in eating the candy, especially the sour rainbow ribbons. He spat out the gummy cinnamon Santa he tried, while attempting to wipe the spicy taste from his tongue. Apparently, that did not taste like a fruit snack. We cannot win them all.
Gingerbread construction was followed by homemade brick oven pizza, a family nativity play (sorry, no pictures, but we did have three very authentically dressed wise men bowing before a one-year-old baby Jesus who was toddling around the room), and the reading of Greg’s favorite Christmas story, “That Thine Alms May Be in Secret.” That one always receives mixed reviews from the kids because the ending is sad. (But maybe it’s happy?!? Depends on who you ask.)
A family gift exchange followed that. Carson, again, won the night with his hand-sculpted chess set for his oldest brother, with whom he loves to play chess. The rest of us purchased gifts like regular people because we are not nearly as talented or as patient as Carson.
We ended the night by opening new pajamas and books and snuggling up on the couch to watch The Polar Express. There may or may not have been lots of sarcastic commentary from the peanut gallery.
Christmas morning began with an 8:00 am phone call from Hermana Sheppard. We were still in bed – an anomaly she could not understand. “It’s Christmas!” she said. “Get out of bed!”
But when you have a houseful of adults and babies who stayed up way too late, nobody is in a hurry to get out of bed!
We did, however, get to watch Kate open the small gifts we sent to her in Georgia – a treat for sure! She was most excited about a bracelet I had engraved with the phrase “Get Hype” and the word “Legend” on the back. Those are, in fact, her favorite phrases, by which all her friends know her. With that gift, we were #winning!
But then, as we continued to chat with her for over an hour, the tears came (from her eyes, not mine). She was more homesick than ever for multiple reasons, especially because she was missing our final Christmas in Arizona. (And her companion just went home. And she started training a brand-new greenie a few days before Christmas, who was also homesick. And because she didn’t want to be trunky during her final two transfers, but she just wanted to come home, and did that make her a bad missionary?!?)
That conversation broke my heart just a little because I couldn’t reach through the phone to dry her tears, give her a big mama hug, and tell her everything would be ok.
We went from that to opening the small mountain of gifts under the tree, most of which were for the two babies. Watching the toddler excitedly try to open all the gifts, even the ones that didn’t belong to him, was the epitome of fun.
After all of the gifts from the tree were opened, Elise kept saying, “Mom, are you going to open the gifts in your stocking?” I responded with a lackluster, “I will eventually get to that.”
I bought and wrapped all of my stocking stuffers and was, therefore, in no hurry to open them. But, with her persistence, I started emptying my stocking. There was dry shampoo, lip gloss, makeup, and candy… thank you, self, for getting me what I wanted.
But then I pulled out a folded piece of paper I did not recognize. When I opened it, there was a picture of an “Arizona Monsoon” scented candle, and I had to swallow a sudden lump in my throat.
Just two days earlier, Elise and I were shopping for gingerbread house supplies. We walked out of the store to my favorite smell of all time: Arizona rain. Having lived in the Midwest for six years, I know Midwestern rain does not smell like Arizona rain. I told Elise I would miss that smell more than just about anything else when we moved to Missouri.
She immediately pulled out her phone and started looking for candles that smelled like Arizona rain. Apparently, she ordered one without my knowledge. While it did not arrive in time for Christmas, the picture in my stocking had the same effect.
I am going to miss this place and that smell so very much.
Also, the candle has since arrived, and it smells divine. But I don’t want to burn it yet. I must save it for Missouri.
Christmas Day was almost idyllic. I say “almost” because we missed Kate fiercely and knew she was struggling. But our home was filled to the brim with love, laughter, pleasant conversation, and family togetherness, intermingled only occasionally with toddler tantrums and baby cries. (Which is endearing in and of itself because we get to watch our son in his element as a dad.)
I don’t know what Christmas will look like when we don’t live near any of our kids. But this year, it was nearly perfect, and I went to bed that night feeling thoroughly spoiled.
The next morning began with a funeral for a ward member. The death was not entirely unexpected, but the surrounding circumstances made it feel heavy.
Just before the service, I opened Instagram, which I had been mostly avoiding, and saw a post from a fellow faith-based content creator whose young daughter unexpectedly passed away on Christmas Day. She tragically lost another child less than two years ago, and my heart was broken for her.
How could one family navigate such heartwrenching loss twice in two years? And on Christmas Day?
After my beautiful Christmas, it did not feel fair.
A couple of hours after that weight settled on my chest, Elise found out that her best friend and former mission companion suffered a life-threatening hemorrhagic stroke (bleeding in the brain) on Christmas Eve. She was, at that moment, in a risky 10-hour surgery to repair the damage, with her very life hanging in the balance.
Elise was obviously distraught by this news and the fact that there was nothing we could do but pray our hearts out and leave it in God’s hands. How does a young, healthy twenty-something have a hemorrhagic stroke? It does not feel fair.
The clouds hanging over December 26 felt thicker by the moment. How could I celebrate my blessings, which seemed to be multiplying, when others close to my family were suffering so very much?
Then, on December 27, Greg and I attended the temple sealing for two of Kate’s high school friends, who married each other after returning from their respective missions. It was another high on the roller coaster of this week, and a beautiful reminder of what is truly important and who is actually in charge.
When we sign up to be on the Lord’s team, and enter a covenantal relationship with Him, we do not get a free pass from adversity or pain. We do not get to choose our trials, which are part of this rocky journey of mortality, often cut us to the core, and come at the most inconvenient times.
Each of us must pass through the Refiner’s fire enough times to be refined. Only the Refiner knows when we are sufficiently pure and strong enough to be taken from the heat. In my experience, he generally does not take my suggestions. When I try, He tells me to stop counseling Him because I am a novice and He is a master. (Imagine that…)
But, through the discomfort of the refining process, He promises covenant keepers an added measure of His power. As Russell M. Nelson taught:
The reward for keeping covenants with God is heavenly power—power that strengthens us to withstand our trials, temptations, and heartaches better. This power eases our way. Those who live the higher laws of Jesus Christ have access to His higher power. Thus, covenant keepers are entitled to a special kind of rest that comes to them through their covenantal relationship with God. (source)
I don’t know about you, but I NEED this kind of power in my life. The natural woman is strong in me (I can picture Yoda saying this: “The Force is strong with this one…”), and I know I can’t make it without a compensatory power beyond my own.
Things on this roller-coaster of a planet are wild and going downhill with frightening speed as the Savior prepares to return and take His rightful place as King of Kings. None of us will be spared from the breathtaking drops or dizzying corkscrews.
But, for those who ride alongside Jesus, the crazy, stressful, white-knuckling, can’t-seem-to-catch-a-break ride will take us into eternity with Him.
I’m going to hold on, even though I HATE those unavoidably sheer drops that seem to come out of nowhere and last far too long.
It will be worth it. I know it will be worth it.
And, for those who are currently falling, I’m praying my heart out for you.
**Read the rest of this journaling series here.
