Looking Back

The times I treasure most in life are times spent with loved ones. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing, or if we’re doing anything at all, I’m content just knowing that those I love are close at hand—sitting in the same room or within easy reach down the hall or up the stairs. As a result, family gatherings on vacation, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and other special occasions are the hallmarks of every year.

This time last year was one of those treasured times. I had nearly two months between the end of one job and the start of the next, entirely at my disposal. We spent the first week moving across the state to where my new job was located. Our second child was born soon after, and one peaceful, unhurried day followed another as our family quickly slipped into a happy, idyllic routine. Of course, although the days passed slowly, the weeks and months passed quickly, and before too long my first day of work at my new job arrived. One of the hardest things I’ve done was to say goodbye to my 2-year-old son that day, understanding—as I know he couldn’t—that I was closing the door on a sweet chapter of life that will never return. During that slow day of orientation, with too much time to get lost in my thoughts, nostalgia for the days gone by welled up inside me like a physical ache. I longed to go back in time to relive those days with my little family, although of course, that was impossible. As the days passed, that ache subsided and I moved forward into a new job and a new routine.

I was reminded of those days again this week as I stepped back into the routine of work after a wonderful week last week spent gathering with family to celebrate the wedding of my youngest brother and the births of three little ones born during the last few months. For a few precious days, my entire family was gathered together in easy reach in the place of my birth and my college—a place that feels like a second home. The familiar ache came in stages this time—saying goodbye in the morning as family (and we) scattered one by one back to their homes or driving away in the afternoon from a place where memories form so thickly as to become almost tangible. I thought I had handled things pretty well as we got back home late that night, but I was in for one last surprise. Heading out the door the next morning, I was hit with a wave of longing so strong that I felt dizzy as I shut the door on my sleeping family. I took a deep breath, kept walking to the car, and gradually faded back into my routine.

Reflecting on my love of family and my longing for our times together, I am reminded of one of the Lord’s “hard sayings” (see John 6:60):

Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword. For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter in law against her mother in law. And a man’s foes shall be they of his own household. (Matthew 10:34-36.)

As if that weren’t tough enough, He continues:

He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me: and he that loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. And he that taketh not his cross, and followeth after me, is not worthy of me. (Matthew 10:37-38.)

For me, that last part is the key. As dear as family relationships can be, if they get in the way of our love for and devotion to the Savior, then our priorities have been misplaced. Or as Jesus put it on another occasion, “No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.” (Luke 9:62.)

Thankfully, when we choose to follow Christ and take up our cross, we suffer no real loss. Instead, “he that loseth his life for [Christ’s] sake shall find it.” (Matthew 10:39.) That life found in Christ is rich and abundant, just as he said it would be. (See John 10:10.) This includes our life with treasured relations. I read once that, for ancient Hebrews, numbers and repetition are a way of expressing qualitative as well as quantitative reality. Viewed in this light, the Savior’s promise of receiving “an hundredfold” of “brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife or children,” both “now in this life” and “in the world to come” (see Matthew 19:29; Mark 10:30) takes on new meaning. The promise of rich relationships with family now and through eternity properly turns our focus—and our longing—toward Him and His kingdom, making the treasures of this world—even the really precious ones—pale in comparison with His abundance.