In the Holy Land

We haven't been to the temple in a while. It's hard to do on a regular basis when you have young kids, but we do our best. We almost went last week, but Nolan got sick so we didn't want to leave him in the care of someone else. I miss it. There's a definite clarity and reassurance that we puck up when we go to the temple and it's something we can't get anywhere else. In our longing we decided to go up and just visit the Palmyra Temple and the Sacred Grove after church on Sunday. The plans kind of doubled from there and we ended squeezing ourselves and our friends the Nyre's (eight of us total) into our seven passenger truck. It was quite the trick to get three booster seats to fit in the typically two-seat back bench, but we did it.
The boys were all very good for the drive up and slept most of the drive back. They were a little difficult to manage at the sites though (four young friends out in the woods and fields on a bright day, you can imagine their antsyness). We took them to the temple, walked them around it, let them put their hands on it, and talked about it. We walked (as quietly as one does with four little boys) through the Sacred Grove, meditating as we continually reassured them that we were getting close to a drinking fountain. I love these sites. We toured the Smith homes and appreciated how hard they worked and all they accomplished whilst trying to help Joseph restore the Lord's church. What a dear family they were. I can't visit without longing to have walked alongside them. To have labored on their farm and shared in their experiences, hard as they were. I'm glad I'm not with them though. I'm glad I'm here with my family and can share tender moments like my youngest son falling asleep in my arms as we toured (and he's not eight pounds anymore either).
We finished off our visit by going to an obscure cemetery on top of a hill out the backside of Palmyra. There are only a handful of graves upon the hill, and the one we were to see was apart from any others. Alone against the edge of the hill and in the shade of trees, bushes, and brambles. It was the grave of Joseph Smith's dear brother Alvin. The man Joseph had so looked up to. I had for so long wanted to visit, to pay my respects to the man the prophet so respected, but things always came up. I can now say with a full measure of satisfaction that I have visited his grave, given my thanks for what strength he lent Joseph, and let him know of the love and respect I have for him.
It was a good sabbath.