Christmas peace

After a lovely dinner with wonderful friends, Shawn and I decided to watch at least one talk from the LDS Church Christmas devotional. We settled in bed, listening to Elder Uchtdorf, and before I knew it Shawn had slipped off to sleep. This is the peace I've been longing for. No, not a husband muted by sleep. I'd really rather he were awake so I could watch with him. But this reminder from an apostle that Christ was there for a reason, that the Savior can help us transform ordinary life into extraordinary spiritual experiences. Things have been awfully stressful with school and illness and all that jazz. All I really want is to lie under a Christmas tree to look up into the bright lights, the way I used to do as a little child.

It's been a day full of snarky experiences, tears, laughter, friendship. When my rather socially uninhibited neighbor pulled up behind my at stake conference, I dreaded getting out of my car. True to form, he said, "Hey, come here. Is your husband inactive?" I'd had it. I doubt he understands my Southern upbringing and that sir is not said by me now in any way but sarcastically, but I said, "No sir, he has a chronic illness."

"Well, do you feel like a widow?"
"Only when people ask me that."

I think this man really meant well. He said I could sit by his family. I excused myself to wander into a spectacularly pink and salmon ladies restroom to text my sister and then cry to her on the phone. [I am never so aware of a socially constructed femininity as I am at church, which is usually benevolent enough but sometimes too bizarrely pink, like this bathroom.] I really hope he stops feeling like he needs to yell across the cul-de-sac or corner me before stake conference to check up on our activity level. He means well, I think. Only he and snarky matriarch neighbor (who asked why I was mowing the lawn and then informed me that was my husband's job) have been a pain about the whole illness issue. So I shouldn't feel like the whole ward is crazy. Nonetheless I just want a new start. We may look for a congregation that starts at 2 pm so Shawn will be more likely to feel well enough to go. A fresh start (where people don't know the relative who's been gracious enough to let us house sit) would be marvelous.

It's all a deep reminder that we don't go to church for other people, and an eye-opening gift of empathy for all those who don't darken a church door for fear of the people in it.