Sweet, bittersweet, sweet

That's how I'd describe the week that just was.

The sweet part--or at least one of them--was the arrival of our grandson, who appeared with a full head of black hair on Monday, April 21.  I was delighted to meet him during his first hours, because there's something so . . . sacred, really, about those early moments.  I held him in my arms and sniffed his neck and listened to those little kitten noises and remembered the moments when nurses placed my own warm children against my skin.  There's nothing like it.

Oddly, the bittersweet part had to do with birth, too.  I'd just written that piece about losing those babies years and years ago, but somehow all of that came back.  Surprisingly so.  I didn't expect this at all, and I certainly didn't expect to feel old grief, as well as a new grief about the passing of my years, although I am so grateful to be at this stage of my life.

 I don't know.  It's just been a strange, emotional time for me.

And then sweet again.  Lisa B.'s daughter--aka Sophie, aka the Queen of the World--asked me to speak at her stake's standards night.  She was very insistent that it be an uplifting evening--not all DON'T DO THIS AND ESPECIALLY DON'T DO IT IN A SLEEVELESS DRESS.  Well, it was easy to be on board with that request, and so I gave the talk I would have wanted to hear when I was a teenager.

The sweetness came when I saw Lisa walk through the door of the gym so she could hear me speak, when I saw her with this fabulous creature that is her daughter, when I saw all the daughter had done to make the evening memorable and rewarding for all those girls.

And I just felt so grateful that I have lived long enough that my friend and I can see the adults our children have become.