The Weekend

I'm tired of this.

More than 50 dead last night in Las Vegas.

We had a peaceful, joyful, family-filled weekend listening to General Conference--all of us piled on blankets and pillows with notebooks and treats in the messy family room.

We had dinner with family then a quick visit to the Mesa Temple Visitor's Center to listen to Karli sing songs about love and Christ.

We had a long talk with Lily about her plans for college next year--ACT scores, entrance fees, and how much things really cost in the grown-up world.

We sent kids up to bed with instructions to brush and read while Brad and I took a quick walk around the block in the suddenly balmy evening.

We said prayers, and I was so grateful in mine for an almost perfect weekend surrounded by the people and things that I love.

And I woke up to six notifications on my phone of the shooting at a concert in Las Vegas. Brad and I attended a concert at Mandalay Bay once: Josh Groban. I've walked the halls of that hotel and the Strip, and somehow that makes this shooting even harder for me, makes it more personal and immediate. We drive through Las Vegas on our way to Idaho. Las Vegas is close.

I can't stop thinking about the people and their families, those whose lives changed instantly. I can't stop thinking about how quickly life changes and how we never know when it will be us.

Prayers are different this morning--still full of gratitude for my family and my life, but now they are headlined with prayers for healing. Prayers for this world we live in.