It Is (A Wonderful Life)

Ten Decembers ago I was wearing a light jacket (1999 was a warm winter) and walking with a group of girlfriends to BYU's Varsity Theatre.

The plan was to meet some boys for a dollar showing of It's a Wonderful Life. When we arrived, the boys had already paid their admission and were seated inside waiting for us.

As the first female to slide into their row, I had to make a quick but difficult decision: sit in the available seat next to Wes (who I was in secret love with), or politely walk several paces farther, counting down the appropriate number of chairs, stopping to sit only after everyone behind me had a spot. I hesitated for an imperceptible moment (that felt, to me, like an eternity) and then sat down. By Wes. The rest of the group filed on past me. For a few minutes, I was mortified. How could I be so obvious? All of my girlfriends were probably mad (most of my building was in not-so-secret love with the boy). But then the movie started. And every time Wes bent his head to whisper a witty comment in my direction, I felt more and more satisfied about the seating arrangements.

I don't know how I fell in love with him in a mere two month time frame. It was just the kind of illogical thing I never thought would happen to me. I remember trying to study for finals that year. Capacity to concentrate: zero. Appetite: none (too many butterflies). I was: in love.

And it was surprisingly lasting love. I remember going to rent a movie with my roommates almost a year after Wes had left on his mission. It was December again. Christmastime. And I spotted a copy of It's A Wonderful Life on display just as someone sporting the scent of spearmint breezed by me. Wes's mom had sent him to BYU with a stash of Doublemint, so the smell, together with the sight of Jimmy Stewart smiling down at Donna Reed, worked some kind of sudden, heavy magic on me. I was amazed by the swell of strong emotion in my heart - like Wes, in his grey fleece pull-over, had suddenly pulled me close and breathed a hundred forgotten memories into my mind.

The vividly remembered scent and softness lingered. Two Decembers later, Wes was home from Norway and I was wearing an engagement ring on my finger. The night before our winter wedding, I requested a father's blessing - something I traditionally did before big days and life changing events, though few previous events could compare with the one at hand. I remember the familiar feeling of Dad's hands on my head. I settled in for the typical words of comfort and promise. And they came. But so did other words. Words I hadn't anticipated on the night before my wedding. I don't remember exact phrases. I remember a few significant pauses. I remember Dad saying things like: "On such an occasion, I wish I could promise you only joy and happiness ahead..."
But?
He went on to talk (for a seemingly extensive time) about challenges and hardships. No specifics. And there were, of course, abundant assurances of strength and courage betrothed - to both me and Wes. But I'll be honest: my bride-to-be ears were surprised. Not exactly the shining promise-of-a-wonderful-life words I'd been expecting. The blessing wasn't in any way frightening or depressing. Just surprising.
I'm no longer so surprised. Now, when I reflect on that particular father's blessing, I realize that God truly knows me. My past, my present, my future. My pain. My potential. And I realize that he knows all those things about my husband, too. And about my children, and my friends, and my family. Everyone. He knows us! And He's truly available to help us. Time and time again over the past seven years, He's helped Wes and me to pick up the pieces of shattered plans and rearrange them into a new pattern - into a truly beautiful, wonderful life.

Not that the rearranging is easy - even with help. Those shards of broken dreams are sharp. Sometimes I complain about all the seemingly wasted work and cry at the cuts that result from the process. But I'm learning (mainly from Wes) to be less resentful. Sometimes it helps to read wise words:

"Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself." — C.S. Lewis (Mere Christianity)

Sometimes it helps to remember inspired words:

Search diligently, pray always, and be believing, and all things shall work together for your good if ye walk uprightly and remember the covenant wherewith ye have covenanted one with another." D&C 90: 24

Always it helps to curl up with a good movie on a cold night and remember, "no one is a failure who has friends."


We've really had a wonderful life, we two! Wouldn't trade it for anything. Not anything. Happy Anniversary, Wes!

When we saw this sign for sale a couple of years ago, we thought it certainly worth the couple of dollars it cost. You'll note that it's currently hanging inartistically on our bulletin board. Along side the letter reminding us to get Spencer's birth certificate.  (Just trying to keep it real for you, Heather! =)