A Cruise, An Elevator, and a Cold

To celebrate our 28th wedding anniversary in September, Brent and I went on our very first cruise. We visited the Mayan ruins in Cancun, Mexico and went SNUBA diving (a cross between scuba and snorkeling) in Key West. It was short--just 5 nights.4 days--but we had a really nice time getting to know each other again. We splurged and had one of the professional photographers do some portraits--this one is my favorite. Twenty eight years. If you get a chance, ask Brent about the acupuncture . . . good stuff.

I was in the elevator yesterday and a fellow got on with me. He was about my height, dark complexioned, and very compact and strong (muscular in a way that made me think that he probably worked in a job that required strength and agility). I noticed that he had a gold necklace on and I couldn't make out what the pendant was. I asked and he held it up for me to see. He proudly told me that his wife had bought it for him after he'd shot his first 8-point deer. It struck me as a very kind and thoughtful thing for her to do. While I didn't think that his shooting a deer (although he did look like the kind of fellow who actually ate the animals he killed) was all that fantastic, it was wonderful to see the result of her thoughtfulness. As he mentioned his wife, his whole being lit up with excitement and obvious love for her. He got off the elevator a floor before me and told me that he thought she'd probably get him another pendant of a boar after he shot his first wild pig!

After the conversations I’ve had with Nathan lately, centered on how evil and self-centered people in powerful places tend to become (if they were not already)--it was charming and reassuring to be in the presence of someone who loved the things he did and who openly cherished his wife.

It is easy to get hung up on the bad stuff that happens to you. People in broadcasting and other news reporting fields have learned that crisis sells--everyone slows to see a car wreck on the highway. It is more difficult to seek out the compassionate and generous things that happen--I think mostly because they happen in small ways in quiet places. These actions are not inspired by a desire to be acknowledged, thus there are no cameramen/women hired to document the event as it happens. Unfortunately, it is also difficult for someone who has been blessed in a specific moment by the charity of others to remember the act. The majority of times when I have received help I recall only feelings of relief and reassurance and gratitude to my Heavenly Father--and warmth and tenderness for such good friends.

Most of the occasions that I have influenced someone for good came about in the course of my everyday living. Small nudges of the Spirit cause me to do something a little out of the ordinary--and it just happens to be a thing that helps someone to feel better about themselves, their lives, and the Lord. Most of the time I only learn that I have been of help when I hear the report during a testimony in Sacrament Meeting. Other times people have been moved to vocalize gratitude that that they have kept quiet in their hearts during the last days before we moved to another state. I suppose that our leaving has "forced the moment to its crisis" (The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot).

That's not exactly the concept I want to express--but you get the idea. I have most often recounted charity extended to me during conversations with others--rather than going to the person and thanking them directly. I am learning to change that, though. I've begun to report what a good job someone has done for me by writing notes and sending them to the place where the person works: public "thank you" that is also heard by the individual. I thank the cashier at the grocery store for working so late when I have gone in to buy bread and eggs at 9:00 pm. When we eat out and the waiter or waitress has gone out of their way to make the meal a pleasant experience, I try to tell them or leave a note on the receipt saying thank you for their taking such good care of us.

Most importantly, I have gotten into the good habit of telling Megan, Lauren and (especially, lately) Nathan (since he is still living here with Brent and me) that I appreciate the kind things they do for me, that I am proud of them, that I am grateful for their example of gracious living, that I really enjoy being with them, and that I am glad that they are my children.

Perhaps this is why the genuine satisfaction of the hunter on the elevator in sharing his testimony of how much he was loved by his wife keeps coming into my thoughts. Most of all, I have always tried to express to Brent my love for him and for the wonderful life that he makes possible. While our children were growing up, I repeatedly told them that I felt lucky to have met married such an extraordinary man--how generous, how handsome, and how thoughtful he was. Every night as we pray together, I hear him thank Heavenly Father "for my wife". When I say the prayer, thanks for Brent as my husband and companion are always the first things I express.

I am so lucky to have Brent. I think that in the pre-existence that when Heavenly Father was asking who wanted to fly through the air, experience the most joy (and its opposite, the most despair), to climb trees, to sing out loud, and to comprehend through mortal experience every extreme emotion, that I was sitting on the edge of my seat, raising and waving my arm and saying loudly "Oh, oh, yes! Pick me! Pick me!” And when the Lord decided to grant my desires, He looked around the heavens and found Brent.

Then, He asked Brent if he would take on the duty to take care of me and protect me because I really didn't know what I was asking for. At that point, as at every other time the Lord requested his service, Brent humbly accepted the calling. I think that he began, then, to practice loving me and keeping me out of trouble because he slipped quietly into that role the moment that we met.

His calm, moderate emotions balance mine. He has always been present to pick me up off of the ground, agonize over the falls I've taken, and then, because I wanted it so much, to pay for the horses that were involved in the accidents. He has, literally, saved my mortal life more than once.

He is the reason that I am still thankful for my body even when it is in painful pieces that must be sewn back together. He is the reason that I have fought every time to return from my blackest, coldest, most hopeless place. Even when I knew that Heavenly Father lived and that Christ sacrificed His life for my sins--but didn't care--I knew I could believe and trust Brent. During those times, he reminded me of that trust and that he knew that all of that mattered--so he would believe for the both of us until I could believe again on my own.

This essay actually began as a letter to Brent, but I want to share it with all of you now, too. I think it is important that we remind each other that there is good in the world--and that there is a reason for this world: we are that reason. I can reassure Nathan that even with all of the horrible things that are happening on the earth right now, for some unfathomable reason, the Lord has put us in a place where we can know the complete truth of the Gospel of Christ. He has given us resources that enable us to be healthy in both mind and body. He has allowed the five of us to be a family--and now to become the best of friends.

At this moment, I am laying in bed with the beginnings of a cold washing over me. I have an injured left shoulder that has made it necessary for me to drop the ceramics class I've been taking with Nate at the local college. Yesterday my orthopedic surgeon gave me a cortisone shot in my should so my left art feels like one be achy bruise. There is nerve damage on my upper left foot that makes walking a misery. I'm also hungry because I feel too gross to get up and fix something to eat--and Nathan is at class so he can't hover over me and keep me fed. Brent has been away in Washington DC on business all week and won't be home until Sunday night.

It has occurred to me as I have been writing, that I have the right to complain loudly to the walls that I hurt and that I miss Brent and that I am not happy. Weirdly enough though, I feel supremely at peace, grateful for the time and the place to rest and let my body repair itself. General Conference is this weekend and so I get to hear the Lord's living Prophet talk to me about how much Heavenly Father loves me and about what He needs me to be doing right now.

I especially want my family to know that I love the Lord and I am so grateful for the opportunity to be sealed to Him with Brent in an eternal union. I love the knowledge that God is part of the incredible relationship I have with Brent.

People that work with Brent are often surprised to find out that he has no real hobby except for me. His whole concern is that I am happy and feel loved. When others, envious, tell me that I have a really good life, I agree. I tell them of the promise that Brent made to me when he and the Lord decided that he needed to attend law school. He said that if I would support him through school, he would support me for the rest of my life. He has kept that promise. An especially choice friend of mine heard me say that, and then taught me something I had never considered before: that many husbands make that same promise--but do not keep it.

Thank you, Brent, for keeping all of your promises to me.