The sun rose this morning (17 May 2023) at 5:31 in the pass to the right of the lowest pass in the high peaks of the Wallowa Mountains.  In just three minutes the whole orb was above the horizon.  One does not realize how fast the earth turns until one watches a sunrise.

The second thing I did this morning was to pray.  I found myself thanking my Father in heaven for the huge blessing of living where I do.  There is no other place in the whole wide world that I would rather be.

I'm grateful to not be in Bangladesh, one of the poorest countries in the world, where a cyclone just missed making a direct hit on the largest refugee camp in the world.  Or in Ukraine where war is raging.  Or in Russia or Belarus or Myanmar where despotic rulers reign.  Or in Haiti where gangs have taken over.  Or in any large American city.

Instead, for some reason, here I am in the most beautiful spot in the most beautiful valley in the world, with the best soil, best view, and perfect conditions.

I am grateful for the beautiful, peaceful environment with which I am surrounded.

Having said that, I thanked my Father for the unseen environment with which I am also surrounded.

I have the Holy Ghost.  I feel it, and use it, every day.  It is why my world is so peaceful and joy-filled.

I am also surrounded by angels, according to D&C 84:88.  Those angels are my ancestors, I am sure.

I am surrounded by my children and grandchildren, who are very attentive to us.  We currently even have three great grandchildren in the house as Abby and Jonah Boe are here using our house as a bedroom as they visit our daughter, Katie.

What a joy it is to live here.  What a joy it is to live.  What a joy it is to have a knowledge and a testimony of the gospel.  What a joy it is to serve.

Today we will take Joy Barnhart to La Grande to see a dermatologist.  Joy is nearly 92.  She is a non-member lady that we have adopted.  She is a recluse with no family except a sister with dementia and several less-than-attentive nephews.  Joy cares for herself, is spry, and is very sharp.  She has sold her car, and never leaves her house except when we take her grocery shopping or to the bank.  Most of the time we do the grocery shopping for her.  We truly love her, and she has come to trust us and to depend upon us.  We have a key to her house so that we can let ourselves in if we call and find her unresponsive.  It is a joy to serve her.

Tomorrow we are going to go to Pocatello and plant 80 strawberry starts for my nephew, Danny Griffith.  He expects to not be of help since he'll have just undergone another chemotherapy treatment.  All he'll have to do is point us to the spot, and we'll do the planting.

We'll get to see our newest grandchild, Afton, and meet Silas Paul Hansen, the great grandchild we've not yet seen.

These things are joys.

We'll have to be back Sunday because I have a patriarchal blessing to give.  It is a joy to give those blessings.  This will perhaps be number 205.  I give an average of one blessing per week.

And our place is beautiful.  The lawns are mowed, the garden is planted, and Marjorie has her flowers all in place.  The cherry trees and daffodils are in full bloom.  My mother's peonies are ready to pop.

A major rain storm is brewing to the west.  Baker got dumped on yesterday.  So did North Powder.  Perhaps today it will be our turn.

It is a joy to work to make this spot a heavenly place.

Sue Richard insisted on making our place one of the seven destinations this year for the annual yard and garden tour.  We reluctantly submitted.  She asked us to describe the place in 25 words or less so that it could be advertised in their flier.  I said, “Fifteen fruits and fifty flower varieties on three acres surrounded by a deer fence.”

What a blessing it is that we can live and work in such beautiful bounty.

Our stamina isn't what it used to be.  We exhaust ourselves each day working outside, and then we take a nap.  Working is fun.  Living here is fun.

Our environment, both seen and unseen, is a joy.

Marjorie's sister, Mary, said it best.  She asked, “Jim, how are you going to know when you've died and gone to heaven?”