I'm pretty sure that if you put me into a philosophical time period, I'd be a Romantic. I love beautiful things. I love experience and emotions and smells (though those are hard for me sometimes) and colors and sounds. I love singing and I love flowers and I love smiles and I love the ocean and babies.
I love it all, but I can't imagine being deprived of my sight. These people are, and they experience beauty in a depth that I don't think I'll ever reach.
I want to live my life in a way that helps me get here, where these people are. To be able to sense the essence of myself inside my babies someday instead of simply seeing it in their eyes or nose? To have myself blinded to aesthetic displeasure and focused on the experience of beauty.
I love Easter so much. It's second only in favorite holidays of mine to Christmas. I love it because I love Spring, and I love flowers and eggs and most of all, because I love the message that comes with it. I love knowing that Christ rose again so that I can one day, too, rise again and live after I've died.
This year I've been struggling to get into the "Easter spirit" (thanks, BYU for scheduling finals right in the middle of it). Alan and I dyed eggs, we bought candy, and I wore a really colorful dress today! I tried listening to hymns this morning, reading scriptures, I've been reading everyone's posts about Christ and the Resurrection, and Alan and I even attended a musical program all about Easter.
I still didn't get into the" Easter spirit" until about two hours ago. I teach the Sunbeams (3-4 year-olds) in our ward. During Sharing Time we hunted for eggs and talked about Jesus and being obedient. When it came time to go to class and have our lesson, the other Sister that I teach with began talking about Christ's life--His birth, His childhood, His baptism, etc. She explained that Jesus is our brother. She pulled out a picture of Christ after He was resurrected and started talking about the nail prints in His hands.
One little girl in our class (Emily) stopped what she was doing and walked over in front of the both of us. She asked
"Why does he have owies in his hands?"
to which the other Sister replied "Because bad men hurt Him. Do you know why He let them hurt Him?"
And Emily was stumped. The other Sister told her that it was because He loves us, but Emily wanted to know more. She had a very troubled look on her face.
We showed her a picture of Christ on the cross, and her face got more and more troubled as she traced the nails with her little fingers. She said
"He died?"
We explained to her that He did die, and then told her about what happened afterwards. That His body laid in a tomb, and that Mary came to check on Him and couldn't find Him. Emily listened intently, and I could see the question in her eyes--she wanted to know what happened next.
We told her. That Mary asked the gardener if he had taken Jesus away, and that when He said her name, she looked up and saw Jesus and was happy.
But Emily's face was very troubled. She was having a hard time understanding why anyone would hurt Jesus--her brother. She took the picture of Christ's crucifixion out of our hands and kept looking at it, asking how the bad men made Jesus die.
As the other teacher explained the nail prints and the cross, Emily got very upset. She sat looking at the picture, and then the picture of His body in the tomb, and the nail prints in His hands.
She got so upset that she started feeling physically ill, and we had to take her to find her mom in order to calm her down.
I was so touched by her small spirit's understanding of this event, and saddened by the fact that she couldn't feel the happiness as strongly as she was feeling the sadness of His death. Emily is not our most attentive child, and she's not the most eager to sit down and understand the lesson every week. She doesn't like to sing in Primary, and she's always really focused on the play time and snacks at the end of the lesson. But just this one lesson, on the one that counted, she was able to feel the spirit and feel that connection with Christ.
In Emily's eyes, I saw my "Easter spirit." Her reaction made me more emotional than I thought that it would, and something about it brought home the feelings I've been searching for this week.
And then I came home and found this video:
It's been all over Facebook this week, and if you haven't seen it, I would STRONGLY encourage you to watch it here. It's the simplest, best and most powerful explanation of why Easter is the most hopeful holiday that exists that I've ever seen, and it made me feel the spirit stronger than anything has in a very long time.
It so accurately captures the wonder of Easter and what Christ did for us. He died for us--for me, and then He took up His life again so that we can all take ours up again--so that I can live again. It was a miracle of the greatest magnitude that has ever occurred, and it was the single most important event in all of history. None of the beautiful things that we experience in this life would be possible if it weren't for Christ. If it weren't for Him, death would be final. We would have no hope for ourselves or those we love. We would be stuck and we would be sad and we would be lost.
Because of Him, I can stand up when I fall down.
Because of Him, I can be with my family, and my husband forever.
Because of Him, I can live without the weight of my mistakes.
Because of Him, I can feel peace.
Because of Him, I can live after I die, and I can feel the warm embrace of my Savior and my Heavenly Father and know that I don't have to leave them again.
Because of Him, I can be happy.
And that is sweeter than any flavor of Peeps or Jelly Beans or candy bar.
I'm writing today because I feel especially appreciative of the beauty in my life. There are a couple things that have made me feel this way:
First, a beautiful story. A lovely girl, haunted by a series of events and a kind boy who was patient enough to earn her love, and when the time came, to risk losing her to give her the happiness she had always deserved, to free her so she could be the woman she was always meant to be. A story about how we go on after tragedy changes our lives. We are never the same, but we can be beautiful again--scarred things can be lovely, and scarred people can smile in a way that is more striking than the cleanest, prettiest flower garden. Why? Because in their eyes, we can see the wisdom that their trials have afforded us, and it touches something inside of us. It's also a story about how the universe affords us miracles at rare, clear, fortunate moments.
Second, a heartwarming reunion. An old friend in a time that was difficult for me. At first we danced around our acquaintance, unable to remember how we'd met, only sure that we knew bizarrely personal things about each other. Realization dawned and so did sweet happiness. He is now married to the girl, and I am married to the boy, and life is sometimes so achingly lovely that my heart feels it will break. I could see the happiness in his eyes, a far cry from the despair and weight that I saw in them last. I wish that everyone in the world could be as happy as possible, as happy as he has managed to be. There is much to rejoice over that we don't even see in our lives. I got a glimpse of that little bit today.
Third, a midnight hug. I woke up last night after a tense dream in which I was hurt by someone close to me. Dreams like these are difficult for me and happen more frequently than I'd like to admit. I lay there whimpering and struggling to breath normally, when suddenly a warm weight wrapped itself around me and my heart slowly began to unclench itself. He was still asleep, I'm sure, but simply having his warm arms around me took away my sadness and filled my soul with a soft, grateful feeling that has stuck with me all day. He is the companion of my heart, and I never knew I could be so safe and content until I found myself wrapped up in a lovely, happy life by his side. The security and joy we share is enough to overpower the fear and difficulties we face.
Fourth, a lovely poetry book, and some lovely quotes.
