I know. It's cheesy and cliche. But that doesn't make it untrue.

a time to be born, and a time to die.

We are leaving today to head into the icy tundra that is Northwest Arkansas. We've spent the week in Huron, South Dakota visiting family and friends, and honoring and remembering my Grandma Martin. Though things like Facebook and this blog seem to shorten the miles between us sometimes, it is so nice to see and hug the people you love. This family of Martins is scattered literally across the world, but it's always cool to see them back "home" in Huron.

My favorite moment of the week was during the Rosary service Wednesday night. While the priest spoke about my Grandma and her role as a mother and grandmother, and how important it is to remember and honor that huge part of her life, I couldn't help but be a little distracted by my cousin Kimberly's new baby Connor, cooing in the aisle across from me. I thought about how cool it was that during this service to honor my Grandma who spent her life raising 10 children and loving on her 20 grandchildren and nearly as many great-grandchildren, that the happy sound of one those little lives could be heard amongst the priest's words. We were there because my Grandma is no longer here with us, but here was this little baby, Grandma's newest great-grandchild, right there with the rest of the family as they remembered and mourned their Mom, Grandma, Aunt, Sister, and Friend.

Funerals aren't my favorite. Obviously. But this week has been a time of visiting with family, telling old stories, looking through photos, and making some new memories.

a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.

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