Happily Ever After

On New Year's Day I went to a movie. With my fiance. My fiance. I walked in holding his hand. Then I went ice skating with him. Then I went to dinner with him. And all day, I just couldn't get over how everyone around us thought it was just a normal day, completely unaware of the miracle in front of them.

Today, I woke up and stayed in bed for a half hour talking with my husband. My husband. Then I studied the Book of Mormon to the sound of him whistling primary songs in the shower. Little moments like that still overwhelm me with gratitude.

I don't take it for granted. I never want to take it for granted. I spent 30 years going places with no hand to hold and waking up alone. Some of those years were difficult. God kept making me promises. And when I was lonely and things were hard, He would remind me of the promises. At first that was sufficient. But then it wasn't enough. I couldn't wait for the fulfillment of promises to be happy, and I was having an increasingly difficult time being happy without them. So I asked God to stop talking to me about promises until he was ready to fulfill them.

He gave me a short respite. And then I went back into the same cycle of being presented with unfulfilled promises. But harder and faster this time. I didn't understand and it overwhelmed me. Finally, while continuing to remind me of promises, God told me to let go of them at the same time. And I really didn't understand. I wasn't sure it was even possible.

Were the promises a lie? I couldn't believe that. I didn't feel to stop believing them. But I was supposed to let go of them somehow - let go of all the hurt associated with unfulfilled dreams. I wasn't sure I could. I wasn't sure I wanted to. I didn't know how to let go of the hurt without letting go of the potential to have all the things I wanted - all the things God had promised.

But He helped me. And in the process I learned and re-learned some things. I learned to separate obedience from promised blessings. I learned that, while God's promises are sure, it wasn't enough to be obedient for the promises. I had to be obedient simply because I loved Christ and wanted to be like him, regardless of ever getting anything for it. I made peace with every hard thing God had ever asked of me, not because it was worth it in terms of blessings (it wasn't), but because it was worth it to follow my Savior, to understand him better and become more like him. I decided I wanted that even if it never made me happy (while still believing that ultimately it would).

And then I met Clint.

I cannot fully express how perfect Clint is for me. There are so many little things I chose to be obedient in that I never realized would be so connected to God bringing Clint to me. Who I am and who Clint is - it's a perfectly tailored fit.

At our wedding dinner, Clint sang me a Rascal Flats song that I'd never heard before meeting him. But some of the lyrics explain so well what I feel:

   In your eyes I see forever
   It makes me wish that my life never knew
   The day before you
   Oh, but Heaven knows those years without you

   Were shapin' my heart for the day that I found you
   You're the reason for all that I've been through
   Then I'm thankful for the day before you-

Sunday Will Come

About a year ago, I was in the Holy Land. I went to the Garden Tomb with my brother and spent a few quiet moments looking at a place like where Christ's body was laid after his crucifixion. That morning, I had read in the New Testament about Mary Madgalene coming to His tomb, weeping and distraught. That's what I felt there. I felt a bit of her despair. The one being who fully loved, understood, and believed in her, this person who had saved and forgiven her, who she had then dedicated her life to, who had given hope and meaning and joy to her life... Now he was gone. She came to take care of his body, the one piece of Him she had left. And found it gone. Weeping, distraught, she just wanted to get his body back. Oh, how that hurt.

As I pondered and felt that despair, I asked God to help me feel what came next - the joy of the resurrection. I knew that bitter moment was not the end of the story. But God simply reminded me that Christ's death and burial were not a happy time. It was a time of mourning and sorrow for all who loved him on this earth. The joy I wanted didn't come in that moment. But though I could not feel it, I knew it existed. I knew and trusted in the story of the resurrection. So I had peace in those feelings of sadness. My life also has moments of sorrow and rejoicing, and that's OK.

This morning, we prepared to take the sacrament by singing "He Died! The Great Redeemer Died." The start of the song reminded me of those feelings at the Garden Tomb:

          He died! The great Redeemer died,

          And Israel's daughters wept around.

          A solemn darkness veiled the sky;

          A sudden trembling shook the ground.

 

But half-way through the third verse, the tone changes:

 

          Here's love and grief beyond degree;

          The Lord of glory died for men.

          But lo! what sudden joys were heard!

          The Lord, though dead, revived again.

 

          The rising Lord forsook the tomb.

          In vain the tomb forbade him rise.

          Cherubic legions guard him home

          And shout him welcome to the skies.

 

And today I felt the story finish. I felt the joy. It always comes. Maybe not in every day and every moment of life, but it always comes. I know that even in the times when I don't feel it. As Elder Wirthlin would say, "Sunday will come."