For Spencer

I probably ought to mention that you turned eight and were baptized this fall.  And that those were just the best of best days.

I don't know when "golden birthdays" became a thing, but this was yours.  Eight on September eighth, and it was about as golden as a birthday could be.

You spent the evening planting a tree with grandpa in honor of your upcoming baptism.  

And when October eighth came, you were excited to wear one of your dad's gold ties (sized down for you by our dear friend Jordan Anderson).  

We smiled and laughed together (through tears on my part) as Grandpa helped you tie it on before your baptismal service.  

It was a beautiful, sunshiny autumn day.

You were full of characteristic smiles and jokes.   

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You loved being surrounded by family and friends.

Treasured memories of the day for me include Grandma Truman's beautiful talk and golden candlestick gift, Lucy and Embri's sweet singing, your quick, excited wave to cousins and primary friends from inside the baptismal font, Grandpa Packer's voice choked with love and emotion as he baptized you in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost.

Spencer, I want you to know that I believe in God our Eternal Father.  I believe that he is real, loving, and attentive.  I believe that he wants us to return to his presence, refined and perfected through our mortal experiences and the atoning grace of his Son - our Savior.   

Years and years ago, when you were just two, we were invited to a friend's wedding reception in Eagle Mountain.  Dad was really sick and couldn't join us, so I set off with you and Lucy in your carseats.  As we drove, farther and farther into the vacant hills west of all familiar territory, I started to wonder if it had been a good idea to come alone.  But we finally found the church and had time to say a quick "Congratulations!" to the bride and groom before piling back in the van for the return trip.  As I buckled you up, saying "Time to go home," you looked at me, and, in your trusting, two year old voice, asked,

"You know the way, Mom?"

Your query may have been random, or it may have been prompted by the longer-than-expected drive we had just made together - a drive frequented with are-we-there-yets from your sister.  Perhaps you had felt a little hesitation in my answers of, "I think we're close!!" or "It's probably one of these next streets!"

Regardless, I was grateful I could answer with confidence this time.  "Yes," I told you with a smile and a rub of your blond head.  "I know the way."

You and Lucy fell asleep on that long ride home.  I drove quietly, thinking about your dad's failing health, thinking about our uncertain future, and thinking about your question:

"You know the way, Mom?"

  

My heart was a mess of emotion and pain that night, but there was also crushing gratitude to realize:   I did know the way.  

And I still do.

Spencer, there are lots of questions and uncertainties in life.
Like it says in our favorite Moana song, "We are explorers reading every sign..."
Life is a journey.
A great adventure.

We read the wind and the sky
When the sun is high
We sail the length of sea
On the ocean breeze

But: "at night we name every star."
We know where we are.
We know who we are.

"And when it’s time to find home," truly:
"We know the way."

"Jesus saith I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me." John 14:6

When Lucy was baptized, she wanted you to sing a favorite primary song as part of the service.  I wish I had a recording of your five year old voice singing, "I'm trying to be like Jesus, I'm following in his way." 

You are following in his way, Spencer.

Keep going.

Life will offer difficult terrain.  There will be storms and fogs, weariness and worries.  

But remember, remember my son:  we know the way. 

Indeed, "there is no other way nor means whereby man can be saved, only through the atoning blood of Jesus Christ, who shall come; yea, remember that he cometh to redeem the world." Helaman 5: 9