I haven't posted a lot lately, but it's not for lack of ideas; in fact, it may just be for overload. I mentioned in my last post, though, my desire to share more of my beliefs, my personal beliefs. As I've considered the right way (is there a right way?) to go about it, I've concocted all sorts of formulas and lists, but what strikes me this evening is that I should simply write down what just - just - happened.
It's Friday night. To be precise, it's the Friday before Valentine's Day, and I had forgotten that my husband had a meeting to attend tonight. "So should I go to the six p.m. meeting tonight, or the afternoon meeting tomorrow?" he asked me right before 6:am today. My heart dipped a little, as I had been hoping for our regular date night, a special Sweetheart's dinner (although, to be honest, we're not big Valentine celebrators). By the time Darin got home from work this afternoon, my headache had begun to settle along with my grumpiness. I was tired but knew a 5:pm nap would devastate my weekend's schedule, so I simply rested, mindlessly in front of Seinfeld reruns. I usually don't mind when he has meetings to attend, but tonight, as the minutes flicked by on the clock, I realized I was hungry: for dinner, yes, but more for the company of Darin, as we typically schedule, to converse without interruption. I could hardly stand the idea of waiting another entire week.
When his meeting was finished, he phoned me.
"Great. Want to go to dinner?"
"Do we have any money?"
I wanted to scream. It's not about the money, and our time together is priceless and essential! Don't you dare make this about money! Instead, I grabbed a bowl of cereal and sat down at the table, clearly annoyed.
After a few brief exchanges, and a lot of silence from me, I recognized what was happening. Just then, Darin asked, "Is anything wrong?"
"I need to go to bed."
"Did I do something to make you mad?"
I put my spoon down, looked him in the eye, and said, plainly, "The adversary is trying really hard to get me to be irritated with you because we're planning on going to the temple tomorrow."
He said okay, and I imagine I was getting to be irritating to him as well, so I put my bowl in the sink, we had our family prayer, and I left my Friday Night Family enjoying their tween shows for the hike upstairs to my room.
My thoughts were going a million miles a minute. Wash my face, take out my contacts. Skirt! Do I have a skirt clean? Clean, yes, but is it wrinkled? Should I steam it tonight? Will I even do it in the morning? Temple bag, temple bag...I don't even know where my temple bag is, how embarrassing. I'm so exhausted. I'm wasting time even planning. I need sleep...
Finally, I hit my knees in prayer: "Heavenly Father, I'm so tired. I have so much to do. My body needs sleep. I'm nervous about going to the temple tomorrow. I know I should want to go. Please help me want to go. Please help me be strong and diligent enough tonight to just do the essentials before I go to bed, I don't want to stay up late, get caught up in some project and be too tired in the morning. Please help me."
As I stood up, my mind drifted to two places: first, my laptop. 'Are you kidding me?' I thought. 'If ever there was something to keep me from going to sleep...'.
And the second: my son Taylor. Taylor passed away and would be 10, almost 10 & 1/2, and I miss him. I miss him so much. Missing him makes me weary; weary because I feel like my family is missing someone -- all the time I feel this way, even now, hearing my kids downstairs, knowing they're enjoying life and safe here in our home, I have that feeling that I have to stay up to wait for someone else to come home before we're complete; weary because I know people don't like to hear about it -- it's awkward and they don't know what to say. And weary because I know that it is in the temple where Heaven and Earth are closest, and each time I go to the temple, the longing for me to sense my son's presence is strongest, yet the entire process is so emotionally overwhelming my mortal mind and emotions can only wonder if even going there (physically and emotionally) is worth the hassle.
In the quiet, my son on my mind, I clicked on my google reader and saw a post shared by Dalene. I clicked on it and read, my eyes widening. Sons, deaths, blessings. Clicking over to the post to read the comments, the tears began to fall from my eyes.
There are angels among us. Heaven is close, closer than we realize. Those who have gone on before us are watching and waiting for us so that we can be together again. And God loves us and knows us. He knows what we need, and if we'll listen (even when what I'm told is that it's okay to feel the hurt of missing my son, as well as the direction to look at the computer), even when the direction might seem to not make any sense, we will be comforted and blessed. And when we follow that direction, we can rest as we, bodies and souls, need.