I see at supper time our family seated at a round table with white cover falling almost to the floor. I am age three. Little brother David, still a toddler, is in Mother’s lap. Three older brothers sit in their chairs viewing bowls and platters of food—steaming in the light of a kerosene lamp. Bringing warmth to the room is a large cast-iron wood-burning kitchen range.
Mother bows her head and we close our eyes—she thanks our Heavenly Father for his blessings, his care and the food provided to sustain our lives—and asks that he give us strength and courage to always do his bidding.
How warm, comfortable and secure I feel as I sit, talk and laugh with loving family, enjoying the delightful meal and family comradeship. Everything is right—nothing needed that is not provided—and a mother who knows God and talks to him.
This seemingly simple vision from earliest years has stayed with me always—and meaningfully impacted my life.