I had a fabulous weekend. On Friday, I got to witness the marriage of two people whose marriage is deeply satisfying to everyone because they are both fabulous people and obviously absolutely deserve each other. I love to see weddings in the temple. The altar is like that place under the space ship in old sci-fi movies where, if you stand, you could get sucked up into the saucer. It’s the place where the eternal touches down into the temporal. It’s a portkey, a time-warp bridge, whatever. It’s a magical place, and I like to sit nearby and feel the wind.
So Spencer, whom I have always adored and consider one of the world’s greatest catches, married Andrea, who is obviously good through and through. (I can’t even imagine one of MY siblings saying about me what her brother said about her—that you could substitute her name for the word “charity” in the scripture that says that charity suffereth long, envieth not, seeketh not her own, etc. And so hearing that made me realize I need to repent.) And the whole day—ceremony, breakfast, etc.—was amazingly spiritual. What a great beginning for the powerful force that their marriage has created.
On Saturday night, we took the three older boys to see The Secret Garden at Hale Center Theater. It was early in the show’s run and it wasn’t as good, technically, as the others we’ve seen there. But the music—the music! I own the soundtrack so the music is familiar to me, but I was pretty much in goosebumps for the whole show anyway. The singers were very skilled (except for the lead, Mary) and it was heavenly. I love that show, love the music and also the theme of rebirth, recovery, awakening. I’m in need of such both physically and spiritually these days.
And then on Sunday I got to fulfill my calling (which happens to be my new favorite calling—before this, it was Relief Society teacher), which is leading the music in sacrament meeting. I love this calling because I love music and because I love looking into the faces of my ward family whom I have come to love with amazing strength, considering we’ve only been here two years. I love sitting on the stand and watching those awkward, majestic young men pass the sacrament. I love seeing the families struggle with their toddlers, and the empty-nesters cuddle, and the people who slink into the back late and leave early. I love them, every one! And I realized (again) while I was leading music and loving them that the measure of joy that I feel is related directly to the measure of love that I feel for others. It didn’t matter whether or not they loved me, or even knew who I was. I loved them, and so I was happy.
How I wish I could carry that feeling into the tiny moments with just my family. It’s so easy to love people as a group, and so much harder to love, with all my strength, one misbehaving six-year-old, and to see and seize the joy of it.