Road Trip, Day 3

Tuesday morning I awoke late in the Adam’s guest room after sleeping like a princess on soft sheets under a down comforter with a silk duvet. All was quiet, but it wasn’t the quiet of loneliness or the sweet solitude I have come to treasure as I grow older, but a gentle feeling of peace that permeated their beautiful home. Evidence of Clytie’s touch was everywhere, from portraits of her daughters’ weddings on the walls, to an antique velvet settee, to eucalyptus bows and plush white towels in the guest bathroom. Outside, beneath the clear blue morning sky, deep white snow covered a sloping hill full of scrub oaks. I could just make out a terraced path that leads down to a creek.

During breakfast at the heavy wooden table, Clytie and Spence and I reminisced about the Pittsburg ward they had left behind when their mission ended almost two years ago. It was the same ward that welcomed my return to activity, literally with open arms, the people who loved and counseled Brandon during what I consider the darkest days of his life, the place where I met Gloria and Julie, lifelong friends, and the ward where I learned to really lead music, not just wave my arms around.

I had been somewhat nervous when the invitation came from the bishop to lead the singing of hymns on Sundays. I love music both singing it and listening to it, but leading it is something different. Sister Adams made me forget my anxiety when she said, “You know, you could get up there (in front of the congregation) and wave a dead chicken around and no one would notice; they don’t pay attention to the chorister!) I had to laugh. It is true; many people sing with their noses in their hymnbooks, but by the time I left the ward, I had developed a relationship between chorister and organist, and chorister and ward.

The Adams and I continued to talk together in that easy way so natural among friends. It seems that we had simply taken up where we left off. Suddenly, I saw through the sliding doors, movement in the back yard. Three mule deer had come to feed. Clytie said they’ve seen as many as seven at one time in their back yard. I ran for my camera. One doe in particular was more curious than the other two. As my camera flashed, she walked closer and closer until she was a mere 12 or 14 feet from the door. When the deer moved toward the hill, we went downstairs to the guest room and watched them through the window.

I left the Adams house shortly after that. They hugged me and invited me to return any time. And like others who love and care for me, they cautioned me to be careful as I drive. Clytie and Spence, I love you and will always treasure our friendship. P.S. Remember to document those fabulous photos hanging on the office wall. xo