Wait! You thought that was the end?

Well, hello there friends.

I know! It’s been nearly seven years since I last wrote here on Spark n’ Sway. Seven years. It feels like both a blink and a lifetime.

Where Life Has Carried Us.

In that time, life didn’t slow down—it expanded. My husband and I built and sold two companies, and are in the middle of launching another.  I decided to build a publishing company on the side and have assisted in 20 books. Missionaries left and returned. Three of our kids got married, and four beautiful grandchildren joined our family. Our church callings shifted and stretched us in new ways. We said goodbye to a parent, a brother, a nephew, and to a few beloved animals who had become part of our daily rhythms. 

And, like everyone else, we lived through COVID—an experience that reshaped the world at large and on a more personal level also caused half of my hair to fall out and pushed me into menopause.  Lovely.

Excuses, excuses.  But somewhere in all of that, writing for pleasure and clarity quietly slipped off my list.

A Conversation I’ve Never Forgotten

Recently, however, something stirred in me that brought me back.

It started with a memory from my high school days. As a junior, I sat on our family’s down-filled living room couches mindlessly chatting away with a boyfriend.  We talked about my grandfather who had passed away when I was just eight. I remember describing the only time I’d met him—what he was like, how he smelled of smoke, and how there hadn’t been enough time to not feel shy around him—and then I said, almost casually, “I can’t wait to see him again.”

He stopped me.

“Wait,” he said, confused. “I thought you said he was dead.”

I remember being just as confused by his confusion. “He is!” I said. “But I’m going to see him again.”

We both just stared at each other, completely incredulous. He thought I was mental.  And it had never occurred to me that someone might not believe that. To me, it was as natural and certain as the reality of us sitting on that couch together. Of course we live again. Of course family relationships continue to deepen . . . forever.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to understand what a profound blessing that knowledge really is.

To know that we lived before this life. That we are here now in this mortal experience, learning and growing. And that because of our Savior, we will live again—whole, restored, and reunited with those we love. That knowledge changes everything. It gives meaning to loss and softens grief. It tempers my impatience around seeing my loved ones again.  I know from sacred personal experiences this is real.

The Glorious Promise of Easter

And that brings me to Easter.

Dig out from under the onslaught of chocolate eggs and pastel church dresses, and you’ll learn that Easter is actually about the resurrection of Jesus Christ—His victory over death, and the promise that all of us will rise again. 

But as the matriarch of my Thayne Gang, I’ve been thinking about how to teach that, especially to little hearts and little minds—my grandchildren.  They are just beginning to understand this celebration.

And I keep coming back to the power inherent in an object lesson that is simple and tangible: people.

Showing photos of people. The people we love. The ones we look like, speak like, and tell stories about.  The people that gave us a name, a home, and a push in the right direction.  The ones who left us suddenly or agonizingly slowly.

Though gone from our view, these people are a continuing reality, even if they can only surround us as ministering angels for now.  And the curiosity and longing to see them again is a massive pull and vital part of God’s plan for families.

I believe in the plan—completely and gratefully—brought about through the Savior’s atonement, death, and resurrection.

Because of Him, no one’s story ends at death. Because of Him, our mutual interest in each other doesn’t expire when a loved one takes their last breath. Because of Him, we can look forward with joy to gathering together again in that grand, plushly carpeted living room, under a sparkling chandelier (my vision of heaven) to visit and laugh long into the night.

And maybe that’s why I felt prompted to write again after all this time. I am giddy at the prospect of seeing my mom and dad, my grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles, friends, pets and especially my Heavenly Parents and Savior Jesus Christ.  Aren’t you?

Thanks for listening. It’s good to be writing again.

He is risen!

P.S. This post’s photo is of the location for my Easter object lesson . . . and that couch is the very couch this revelatory conversation happened on.