Momma Donna

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Last weekend we got back from Momma Donna's funeral in Utah. I hadn't been to many funerals before and had never been to a viewing. I think I had the option with Grandma Go-Go, but didn't want to see her like that. Momma Donna has been one of the greatest influences in my life and one of my family members who I didn't grow up seeing regularly. That right there, just shows how amazing she was. I remember as a kid spending holidays with my Pexton family- mostly Thanksgivings. Lots of people, lots of good good food! My memories are probably a little skewed and selective but I remember the adults going shopping and the kids being babysat by the older cousins. I remember leaving, wishing I had older sisters and clothes as cute as my cousins. I was so proud to be part of such a fun family but never felt quite as intwined as I imagined everyone else feeling with each other. But even though Momma Donna and Papa Dick lived far away, I never felt like that with them. They somehow remembered every birthday, every baptism, every anniversary. Grandma made us homemade valentines every Valentine's Day and I was always excited to see what pretty ribbon she had found that year. Momma Donna spoke at my baptism and brought a gold treasure box that I loved so much, she ended up making me one of my own. I remember her teaching me to make cinnamon rolls- not once, but TWICE. She gave the warmest hugs and spoke in the most gentle voice. I remember playing in the snow at her Colorado house and coming in to hot chocolate and blankets warmed in the dryer. No matter where we were or who we were with, I always had a place right next to her.

I don't remember what the Savior was like as I walked with Him before I came to earth, but I think walking next to Momma Donna was probably the closest I'll get to that while on this earth. I never heard her say a bad word about anyone. I remember watching her come in from outside with her scriptures in her hand. At her funeral, her children talked about how she did those small (big) acts of obedience "perfectly." She recorded each time she read the Book of Mormon in the back of her scriptures and had to glue extra pages in the back. As I sat there during her funeral service, I felt an urgency to do better. To read my scriptures more, to pray more sincerely. I felt an easy sifting of what's important and what's not. A quote was shared at her funeral that I never want to forget- "If you leave enough in your children, it doesn't matter what you leave to them." I loved that. I wanted to go home and get on the floor with my kids and play. Leave the dirty dishes in the sink. I want to serve better. I want to go to the temple more. I want to extend love better and feel offended less. I want to be happy for others. My uncle Scott said she "hated" contention. That she avoided it at all costs. He said it was her enemy. As I sat there, listening to my dad and his siblings describe my grandma and the way she lived her life, I had the strongest desire to be more like her. I wondered a little if I had the right to feel that way when I had spent so much less time with her than so many of my cousins. I wished a little that I felt more intertwined and then I had this overwhelming feeling of peace and love and a swelling in my heart. The words came to my mind, "you belong here." I don't know if it was, but it could have been Momma Donna giving me a little squeeze. Just seems like something she would do. ;)