A Full Heart

I've done plenty of scrapbook posting lately - documenting events and activities, holidays and vacations.  And I like those posts.  They're real and representative.  But I've been thinking lately about how much of life lies beneath  all the events and activities - about how much of life just really can't be preserved in a post, or a picture, or even a journal.  I've been thinking about all the feelings.  The feelings that result from the living.  The feelings that can be hinted at with beautiful words or beautiful music or beautiful art - but can never really be utterly expressed.  They can't even all be named!  Joy, love,  grief, faith, yearning, discouragement,  hope-and how many more!  Feelings that come in different doses at different times in our lives and accumulate in our hearts.   

I've been feeling grateful for the accumulation. 

I've been thinking about the verses in the New Testament that describe Mary after various, miraculous occasions like the Savior's birth, how she, "kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart." 

I've been thinking about Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden, "having no joy, for they knew no misery; doing no good, for they knew no sin."

I've been thinking about my mothers - and other various women I know - whose hearts must be brim with the accumulated feelings of so many accumulated experiences. Births and deaths, marriages and miscarriages, friendships, children, opportunities, failures, and so on and so forth to eternity.

I've been thinking how poignant it all is.  And how truly full our hearts can become. 

And all these thoughts are vague!  I know.  But that's almost what I'm getting at.  There are just so many feelings - so many intertwined, interrelated, opposite but complimentary feelings. And I guess that's really the point of life.  To feel.  And then to act.  And to make sure our feelings and actions draw us closer to God rather than away from Him.

But let me try to wrap up the nonsense and finish with something more concrete. 

A few weeks ago our wonderful friend Marva Weaver passed away after a long, long, good, good life. 

A card Lucy made for Marva in March '09 after an injury involving broken bones. 

 Observe Sister Weaver's wrinkles.  Also her parrot Polly.

We saw Marva for the last time on the fourth of July.  She was curled up in a hospital bed, hardly conscious,  but alert enough to cling to my hand and to open her eyes when Lucy sang a primary song.  Her body was deteriorating.  She was dying.  It was difficult.  I wondered if I should have taken Lucy or not.  But a week later when it was time for the viewing and funeral, Lucy was anxious to attend.  

The viewing was sweet and typical.  We walked around tables of memorabilia.  We smiled at familiar toys and pictures.  We waited in line for a last glimpse of our friend.  Marva looked lovely.  Lucy and I talked about the temple clothes she was wearing.  We clasped hands with Brother Weaver.  And then we left.

On the way home, we made a necessary stop at the grocery store.  Lucy sat in the front seat of the cart and we continued to talk.  After a while she said fervently, "I'm so happy we could see Sis. Weaver!"  I hugged her for a long time and agreed, "Me too!"  When I pulled back, Lucy asked me, "Does it make you have happy tears?" 

"Yes,"  I said smiling.

"Me too," She said.

The next day, Wes took Lucy and Spencer to Marva's funeral (I had to work).  They came home with heartwarming stories.  And I guess that's really all there is to say.  Except that the memory of our friendship with Marva has added a variety of feelings to the accumulation in my heart.  They're in there alongside all the other feelings - hard and happy - that I couldn't possibly detail, even with all the time in the world.  And I guess I kind of like how all the feelings simmer together.  How they seem to blend and boil over as one single feeling.  A grateful feeling. A "cup runneth over" feeling.  A full heart feeling.