To be happy at home is the ultimate result of all ambition, the end to which every enterprise and labor tends, and of which every desire prompts the prosecution.
We're an imperfect, sometimes obnoxious group. My family. We say too much and get into each others business and try so hard to make each other laugh that we at times cross the line into unkindness.
But on Saturday, when I slid into the church in Wells, Nevada, barely in time for my nephew Hyrum's baptism, I was taken back by the flood of emotion and was tearful during the opening song.
All of us were there (except brother-in-law Edgar who was at work and Adam...sniff).
The long drive was nothing compared to the thrill of being surrounded by enchanting nieces and nephews, my smiling grandmothers, dear sisters-in-law and brother-in-law, long-legged siblings and wonderful parents.
We love each other. We love being together. Flawed as we are, my parents should be gratified by their efforts.
Because when we're home, we're happy.
My grandma and all of my parents' grandchildren (they're not all looking at the camera but there are 18 of them and they're squirmy!)
from back: Luke, Clarissa, Liliana, Ruby, Deseret, Isaiah and Hyrum
middle row: Liberty, Carolina, Ruben and Morgan
front row: Savannah, Mark, Grandma holding Olivia, Emma holding Cormac and Braeden holding Marcos