FHE today-went to Salt Lake, obscure caravan of cars. The rain, so uncharacteristic of the springtime weather, drizzled over roads, over cars, over minds and moods. Lighthearted conversation in the back seat. Buzzing, buzzing small talk, information, life plans, stories. My brain overloaded. My body overreacted- nervous, angry, frustrated, sad ball of energy and anxiousness filled my chest, overflowed into my eyes, into my throat. I didn't cry (it was a near miss).
Parking garage- possible death trap. Endless maze of ramps and turns and cars and pillars. Everything echoes, everything is swallowed up. Maybe I'll be swallowed up, keep driving into the very bowels of some monstrous concrete demon, never to be seen again. We stopped on level 3. "Maybe next time," yawns the beast threateningly.
Elevator. So many bodies. Moves so quickly, so many sick faces. My stomach dropped out around level 1. Confusion, noise, panic- panicked laughter. Back down to level 1. Hello, stomach. Nice of you to catch up again. Care to join us? No vertigo. Good. Empty elevator.
Lobby- awkward. Social situations aren't my forte. Gaze out the window (stunted window- robbed of its potential, denied the possibility of ever swinging wide again. Locked, trapped, stuck) at the magnificent temple. Castle. Palace. Stretching high into the heavens, bridging the gap. Mottled by the aforementioned rain. Stained. Beautiful. Perfect. Peaceful, even by sight. Quiet chat. Bad memories- not mine, but important. Announcement. File slowly into theater. Bodies. Confusion. Hesitancy. Family? Ward? Politely inclusive? Let's sit over here.
More announcements. Beautiful broken English. She'll be writing home to her family this this week. The lights dim, the bodies hush, though minds keep whirring- I can almost hear them. Red velvet curtain slides back, doors close automatically. Music swells. Movie begins. Something stirs inside me. Why am I crying before the movie has really started? Silly. Lame. Pathetic.
Pain, ridicule, torment, death, hardships. One man, one people endured so much. So much, they cracked, they broke, they died. Bodies aren't people. Bodies break. Strong people, people of the Lord, survive. Joseph Smith died- murdered, martyred, shot dead. He survived his test. Good man. Great man.
Something inside me stirs. God knows me. He knows what it'll take to make me break. But He wants me to be strong, to be brave, to endure, to live through. He gives me what I need. Christ was broken, beaten, crucified. But He lived through. He lives now. That little ball of anger, sadness, heartache, rage, anxiety- it dissolved. Nothing was left but my tears. Fear- gone. Worry- absolved. Pain- gone. Instead, I hope. I hope in a melancholy sort of way because I know that I'll break. Some day, it'll be too much. Some day my mortal shell, my body, my stamp on this earth will be gone. But the purest love sings through my soul. I know things will turn out just so. There is no end to my spirit. There is no end to God's love or wisdom. Broken I may be, but perfect I may become. That is the plan. that is the truth- my future, my hope.
Lobby again. Hushed conversation. Souls touched... by what? Song? Script? Cinematography? Spirit? Doesn't matter. Beautiful broken English testimony (another story for her letter). Beautiful message. Beautiful city lights blurred by careless motorist. Glimmering streets, rain-slicked, reflective. Freeway. Church. Home. Shower. Bed. Prayer. Love- every side filled with, painted by, bursting to share.