Springbreak has come and gone and left me with several beautiful moments I will always remember.
The first was Wednesday, I took the kids to Jumpstreet to burn off some of their energy. I checked them in and went to the back to find a semi-quiet place to read my book. My kids had long since run off and left me to join a game of trampoline dodgeball. As I settled in, here came Colby - "Hey mom. Whatcha doing? Ok - bye" and off he went. Then Ivy - "Hi, why are you back here?" I didn't have the heart to tell her that it was in hopes of being able to read my book undisturbed... She plopped down next to me touched my arm and grinned and danced away. Then came Dalton - sad he had unjustly gotten tagged out of the dodgeball game - "Mom..." and the story of the unfairness emerged as he climbed up in my lap. A hug and kiss and off he went. Moments later, Colby rounded third base and slid into home base again - all hot and sweaty to tell me he and his friend were having fun. Then Dalton and Ivy together. Tagging the me in unison. Watch this! Watch me! Round and round they went. Play, sweat, run back to mom. Run, play, get a drink and tell mom what they just did. Then repeat. I officially read 2 paragraphs in 90 minutes. But as I sat there, I realize how much I love being home base for my kids. The place they run to to be safe. To be seen, heard, loved, consoled, listened to and cared for. Sometimes I am not only home base but the umpire too. But I'd take that any day to always be their home base.
A few days later we attending the wedding of the oldest daughter in the Coon family. They looked radiant and so very happy. It was beautiful - dancing, sparklers, cookies and friends - we were joyous and happy all evening.
On the way home, I got a series of text informing me that the daughter of a dear friend had just been tragically killed in an off roading accident. We drove the rest of the way home in devastation. Sad to the core. Shocked and heartbroken. The reality of it all couldn't even sink in. We drove home, gathered our children and mourned. The next morning, it was like it had been a nightmare only to wake and realize it wasn't. It was real. The heartache was magnified as we prepared for church and the reality that our sweet friend would not be there. As we sat in church, our emotions very near the surface, in walked the family of the girl who had passed. I saw them and wept. Such courage. Such devotion. Such heartache. She had passed only hours before - they must have been up most of the night. With swollen eyelids and visible injuries on two siblings who had been with her in the accident, they took their seat and allowed us to mourn with them.
At the close of the meeting, our stake president stood and asked if we would all kneel for the closing prayer and asked the Bishop to offer it. As the closing hymn ended, everyone kneeled where they were and we prayed for their family, for peace and comfort, for others whose pains we are not so aware of, and for healing of the pains of loss. What a spiritual moment. United, we mourned with those that mourn. It was beautiful. A different kind of beautiful - but beautiful.
After the prayer, I made my way back to my friend and as I waited to give her a hug and love, I saw her husband. I told him, "Thank you for coming, what an example you are to all of us". And he looked me in the eye and said, "Of course we come Sister Johnson. It's true - that's why we come."
I turned to hug my friend and said how sorry I was, and that her daughter was such a light to us all. Hardly able to even lift her head, she told me, "Tricia, God could have taken 3 of my babies last night and he only took one!" I'll never forget their courage and strength - in the darkest moment that they have probably ever experienced, there they were - testifying of God's truth and mercy to us! We are supposed to "mourn with those that mourn and comfort those that stand in need of comfort" but to my surprise, THEY were mourning with me and comforting me as much as I was with them. What a beautiful moment.
Immediately following the meeting, I had to go teach my class of 10 year olds - who are super awesome by the way. Unable to compose myself, we took a walk around the church before we started our lesson. The lesson was on prayer from the book of Matthew in the Bible. I had brought my Karl Bloch picture of Jesus being comforted by the angel as he pleadingly asked God if it be Thy will, remove this cup from me - but not my will but Thine be done. Even the Savior had to go thru things that seemed too hard, too big, too painful for even Him to overcome. Like the Savior, sometimes we have to walk a road that seems to full of pain to endure but the greatest gift we have, the atonement, came from His suffering. And though this family's pain seems unimaginable to me, I can already see the lives that have been touched, changed, improved because of the way they have handled their trial. Well done my friends. Well done. You not only shared your heartbreak with us, but you shared your hope and happiness in the Savior and his goodness.
In the words of a good man, "It's true. That's why we come". That's why we do what we do. That's why we hope. That's why we believe.
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