In the Wings

(backstage before the show)

"There's a lot under the surface of life, everyone knows that."

(Marilynne Robinson, Gilead)

Lucy performed in her school talent show on Friday morning.  Stepped right out into the spotlight, faced a gym-full of  wiggling K-6th graders+teachers+parents, and sang the national anthem, flag aloft.  

She was beautiful. 

Brave. 

I cried and cried.    

I cried because I love her.  I cried because her voice was so pure, her song so important.  I cried because when she finished and sat down with her class, there were so many pats on her back, so much genuine five-year-old friendship.  I cried because Wes wasn't there to watch it all with me.  I cried because he'd suffered a major seizure just minutes before the show started and had to be escorted home before Lucy's song.  I cried because I wasn't sure where I should be: with her or with him.  I cried because I knew Wes would want me to be with Lucy.  I cried because he is so wonderful and brave. I cried because of all the emotion.  All the stress.  All the love.  All the uncertainty.  All the certainty. 

Under the surface.

Behind the scenes.

Wes and I don't often discuss all the emotion.  I think we turn on a fairly apathetic auto-pilot a lot of the time.  But the other day, tears in both of our eyes, we acknowledged that it is important to feel.   

I think it is important. 
A major part of why we're here on earth.

I think it's also important to occasionally eat strawberries and chocolate and make lists of your favorite things. 

That's what Lucy and I did Friday afternoon while our tired dad and our little buddy slept.

        

A few weeks ago Wes and I popped popcorn and watched Legacy (I unabashedly love that movie).

I keep thinking of the line, "along with the pain, the suffering, and the temptation, God also allows us joy." (Or whatever David Walker says in that one scene.) 

Sometimes I have to remind myself that if I block out the pain, then I won't feel the joy either. 

They come together. 

A package deal (as one of my young women says.  Sure love them).

Friday evening, for example, after the talent show & ambulance lights of the morning had faded, I had a little ten minute nap before dinner, Wes's arms around me, our kids playing together (civilly) at our feet.  Before nodding off to sleep, I was conscious of every moment of bliss.  Every moment.  

And then after baths that night, we had the best little Book of Mormon time together.  Lucy and Spencer sat side by side on the rocker - two little wet heads, two little clean smiles.  They didn't pay attention to the first several verses of scripture, but instead of the usual distracting raucous, Spencer broke out in a happy chorus of "Book of Mormon Stories" and when it was Lucy's turn to read, she was full of questions and participation. 

And then a dear friend showed up with soup and bread.

And yesterday a couple of neighbors stopped by to give Wes (who woke up sick) a priesthood blessing.

And Grandma took the kids to ride the train at the mall.

And Wes and I watched a funny movie in twenty minute chunks (between his much needed naps).

And in the evening I read him segments of a good book, and we prayed together, and I thought, there's a lot of joy under the surface too. 

Behind the scenes. 

In the wings.  

I want to nudge it out into the spotlight a little more often.