Letters From Home

I read a story this spring about a 1977 college student who, while enduring a 100-day wilderness survival class in southern Utah, crawled into a canyon wall's crevice to sleep for the night. Inside her shallow cave she dismantled a pile of rocks only to discover a ziploc bag containing dogbane, flint, a honey packet, and a handwritten note from a girl she grew up with in Virginia. The note simply said

Hours fly

Flowers die

New days, new ways

Pass by.

Love stays

Have a great Solo

-Becky Horne

The obvious moral of the story was that we are never alone, that God is aware of even a student's speck in the middle of the desert. The part I loved was the girl recognized the handwriting of her friend she hadn't seen in years; an unexpected letter from home gave her confidence on the crazy journey she chose.

When this story was published it was accompanied by illustrations of Utah's iconic arches and red rocks. Red rocks and southern Utah only remind me of one person: Kara Kawakami. Kara, my "forever Beehive", was a girl in the youth group I mentored at church who grew up to become an archaeologist. She often posted pictures of herself "digging for a living", wading through The Narrows, or giving Indiana Jones a run for his money in the cool department.

Kara became a wife and most recently a mother. Not long ago she texted me baby pics (SWOON!) and we caught up as much as two people can catch up via text at 11:30 at night. Something she said reminded me of the story that had already reminded me of her. And then I got her Christmas card, which reminded me of the story again. I think we call that a "double full circle".

Her card made me laugh when she wrote, "Kara loves being a mom and freely admits that it's the hardest thing she has ever done. Remember: she used to wander the desert and mountains for work."

But the thing she texted, the beautiful confession I can't stop thinking about, was this:

We are happy. I really struggled to want to have a baby. I super loved our life. We basically did what we wanted and had a lot of fun. But I was getting dinner one day and saw a mom and toddler girl and my heart pinged and I told Paul that my heart remembered and missed someone my mind didn't. Then (the baby) came along and I was like, "Oh, there you are."

In my mind I stopped seeing Kara wandering in the desert and saw her wandering in a take-out line, happy with the meal she was ordering, happy in the life she signed up for, happy on the path she'd placed herself. Yet in the middle of all that happiness her smart heart got an unexpected letter from home, recognized the writing, and had the confidence to change her journey. I'm certain all those years of digging in the dirt for puzzle pieces prepped her for the fleshy puzzle she created to solve.

I got another Christmas card from Dave O'Very, my loyalest customer from my store manager days 18 years ago. He wrote, "I am most grateful for the beautiful and profound realization that Love is an infinite resource."

I love that Dave capitalized "love." If Love is someone's first name it has to be God's. God is love. The gift of His son to the world is Christmas. The Savior's earthly mission was nothing but love. Through the Atonement the Savior loved us all. And even now a loving Father through a willing Son is anxious to bless the entire human race with infinite love; all we need to receive it is an open heart. Becky Horne's poem is true: LOVE STAYS. Love stays near us because God never leaves us, no matter what desert, or restaurant, or road we wander. Whether it's

WHAT I WANT TO DO (aka THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD)

SEEING WHAT I'M MADE OF

FIGURING OUT WHO I AM

UNSURE AND SCARED THERE MIGHT BE A COUGAR OR AT LEAST SCORPIONS IN THIS CAVE I CHOSE

THE ROAD TO NOWHERE

THE ROAD LESS TRAVELLED

or

THE LONG ROAD BACK

He is there. He is there and I love his handwriting.

Original story here. PDF here. 

Kara's life used with Kara's permission.