Dear Little Alice:

You have come so recently from our Father’s home. We are happy to receive you here, very excited, but you are peacefully complacent. As you have aged in the two months that you have been with us, your spirit has gradually awakened from the natural sedative of birth, giving us a glimpse of the personality and character you developed in an eternity of life before you came here.

Months ago, Mari became enthralled with the idea that Mommy had a baby in her tummy. When the ultrasound revealed that you were a girl, Mari lovingly referred to you as “Baby Sister.” And she was eager to prepare for her role as “Big Sister.” That was the moniker on the shirt she proudly wore.

Going beyond her due date was not your mom’s idea of a good time. She was ready to have this baby, and she was determined to do it after a full night of sleep. Mari’s birth had been an exhausting experience because she missed a night of sleep, so your mom carefully planned your entrance into the world. (You may have noticed that your mom likes schedules and “definiteness” in her life. It makes for a well-organized existence.) Five days overdue, she went to the hospital on Friday, October 30, and directed the doctors and nurses to induce her labor. I can’t imagine them resisting, knowing your mom when she insists.

As labor progressed that day, we had the duty to go about our day as if we could be productive. It was difficult to pretend to concentrate at work. Once home, we organized a party for your great-grandmother. All Hogge’s who were available and in town came over -- Great-grandma and Great-grandpa Hogge, Joey (newly-home from his mission to Japan), Spencer and Willie, Jason and Coleen, Melanie and Nick, Neal, Uncle Steve and Aunt Joycey, Amy with Ashlie and Kendall. Before we said the blessing on the food, I brought everyone up to date on the progress of the labor. Your mom had a strong contraction, and your heart rate dipped. (The same thing had happened when Grandma Hogge was in labor with your mom.) So we said a blessing on the food and asked for a blessing on you and your mom. It was a good dinner and a nice party for Great-grandma Hogge.

Great-grandma Ronetta Stowers Hogge was born in Rigby, Idaho (not far from Rexburg) on October 30, 1936, seventy-three years, to the day, before you were born. She grew up mostly in Idaho and California and married Great-grandpa Hogge in the Idaho Falls Temple when she was 18 years old. In 1961, she went to Sutter Memorial Hospital, where I was born. Your mom was later born there, as were you. (I hear that they won’t be delivering babies there much longer.) Great-grandma Hogge has been an anchor in our family, always serving, and often sacrificing. I think it a wonderful and notable coincidence that you share your birthday with one of your faithful and strong progenitors.

Despite the blip in heart rate, your birth was uncomplicated. Your dad called us late in the night to tell us that you and your mom were safe and healthy. I didn’t wait until morning but called Great-grandma Hogge immediately to let her know that you were born on her birthday.

The next day, Saturday, Grandma Hogge, Uncle Bradford, and I went to see you at the hospital. You were a perfect little bundle, and very drowsy. You were tired and didn’t mind sleeping through our visit. Since then, you have done all the right things -- eating well, trying to hold your head up, giving us an occasional smile. Your mom and dad appreciate your sleep habits, as you have learned to sleep through the night without a feeding.

I was pleased to participate in your blessing on Sunday, December 6, in the Sacramento Stake. Your dad did a fine job. It was a very cold day, one of those rare days in Sacramento when the low approaches the freezing level. I just couldn’t get warm, even after we sat in sacrament meeting for a while. When it was time to bless you, I went up with you and your dad. We held you, and I held your head in my hand. Your eyes got real big. Through the blessing, you stayed wide awake, probably because you had a cold hand on your head. I will take credit for that.

Your blessing was Uncle Jason Hogge’s first opportunity to participate in a baby blessing. He received the Melchizedek Priesthood just a few months ago. Also there were Great-grandpa Wallace Hogge, Uncle David Clift, Uncle Joey Hogge, and Bishop Fred Bootz. Afterwards, your mom hosted a nice brunch at your house on Laguna Place Way. Good times!

You have good parents who will teach you well. As you listen to them and to your Primary teachers and other leaders, you will remember what you knew before you came to this earth -- that you also have Heavenly Parents who love you and want you to return to them, to have eternal life.

We teach that the veil of forgetfulness is drawn over us when we come to this earth so that this earth life will be a test of faith. I believe that; I have no doubt. If it were not so, all serious arguments would end with an appeal to our memory of our Father. But, looking at you, I wonder if there is another reason for that veil of forgetfulness. I wonder whether that veil of forgetfulness is a blessing that allows us to accept mortality as our present reality rather than longing inconsolably for our heavenly home.

Sitting here, thinking about you and about eternity, I picture a scene, perhaps not very far away as we measure distance, where our Heavenly Father is the beloved King, the benevolent Provider, the Source of light, knowledge, and truth -- a place of safety where we had a perfect knowledge of our Heavenly Parents’ love for each other and for us. It seems that it would have been so easy to agree with Peter Pan, never wanting to grow up and never wanting to leave that home.

I don’t know what it is like to be born -- to leave heaven and come to earth. Both the veil of forgetfulness and the cognitive fog of early mortality have placed those memories in a corner of my mind where they are presently irretrievable. I know some people who claim memories of early childhood, but none remembers real infancy. The distance from heaven can therefore seem large. Would it be just too terrible if we could see what we left behind at birth? Would we be willing to accept, at that point, our mortal probation and accept the pains, trials, and imperfections of life?

That raises the question of how we are born. Sure, I know the scientific details, as far as science has progressed in understanding those details. But the eternal details are what interest me more. Did we have a choice about entering mortality? Did we know when we would be born? Did we understand the circumstances into which we would be born -- freedom or slavery, health or sickness, gospel living or ignorance of the saving truths? Someday we will know.

Was being born a choice? It seems we essentially made a choice to be born when we accepted our Heavenly Father’s plan as presented by Jesus Christ. But what about after that? Did birth just become inevitable, like death is now? Or could we have opted for the permanent role as princes and princesses without reaching out for the possibility of becoming kings and queens? Could we have opted out of the risk that, with the choices that we make, we could lose our ability to live with our Heavenly Parents? If I were to guess, I would think that birth became inevitable when we chose to follow our Savior.

And did we know before we came to this earth whether we would succeed in obtaining eternal life? Our Father knows the end from the beginning. This trait is not unnatural; he is just that smart -- all-knowing, omniscient, all-smart. He has the ability to consider every variable and predict perfectly the outcome. We are not predestined, but our destiny is no mystery to our Father. Did he share that knowledge with us? Did he share it with some and not with others? It is hard to fathom knowing that you would fall short before you even started, so perhaps not.

I trust in the wisdom of the veil. Birth might be more terrible than its twin, Death, if it weren’t for the veil of forgetfulness. But in his wisdom, our Father smoothed the path and allowed us to begin the difficult proving ground of mortality in an innocent, forgetful state. Praise be to Him!

And now, here you are, peaceful and appropriately perfect.

May your infancy be endearing, your childhood enlightening, your majority proving, and your life eternal.

Love, Grandpa Hogge