"Thou Preparest a Table Before Me"

"'And as they did eat, Jesus took bread, and blessed, and brake it, and gave to them, and said, Take, eat: this is my body.'"  Mark 14:22

"I have been thinking a great deal about the body these last weeks.  Blessed and broken."
-M. Robinson, Gilead

Amid a flurry of other activities last Friday, we slipped up to SL for the open house of Huntsman's newly completed north wing.  

It is beautiful. 

         

 Completely state of the art. 

And completely evocative of a hundred different memories and emotions. (I was glad to be among dear friends for such an occasion.)  Wes and I spent what feels like years in those hallways and treatment rooms.  There were surgeries, infusions, clinical trials.  Hundreds of blood draws.  A million MRIs.

Wes hardly ever complained about having cancer. 
It was inconvenient, of course.
Bothersome. 
Didn't jive with all of his plans. 
But he dealt with it very quietly.  Tacked it onto his agenda as one trial among a long list of mortal grievances and simply went about life as usual, working hard, loving his children, loving me. 

The physical frustrations multiplied and intensified until they finally took his life. 
And I've been left with lots of time to think and remember.  To feel and learn. 

I'm not sure if I can explain in words why I weep through the sacrament almost every Sunday.

"Here's love and grief beyond degree." (Hymn 192)

When Wes was too ill to attend church, the sacrament was often brought to our home by a few young priests or elders. That was such a blessing. Those were such sacred moments. There were no talks, no musical numbers. Just the emblems of Christ's flesh and blood. Just the prayers to bless and sanctify, and the promise of His Spirit to be with us always.

And since Wes's passing - since the death of his beloved body - the sacrament has become even more sacred to me.  The moving imagery -  trays of bread and water carefully covered with a white shroud - is now so very familiar.  And so very, very tender.

How could the Father tell the world of sacrifice, of death?
He sent His Son to die for us. (Children's Songbook #34)

Every Sunday I remember my need - my desperate need - for the Savior. 
Every Sunday I bring my broken heart to the alter of His new covenant.   Truman Madsen says, "A broken heart is an open heart and [the Savior] can fill it." 

I love that.
I love Eliza R. Snow's words, "[The Holy Ghost]... fills up every longing of the human heart...When I am filled with that Spirit, … my soul is satisfied." (As quoted in "Personal Revelation and Testimony" by Barbara Thompson)

Truly, "The Savior has power to change us even when circumstances remain the same. Indeed, He promises this, even in the midst of soul-searing afflictions.  I can bear witness with a cloud of witnesses that in the midst of affliction, yes, even and especially in the midst of affliction, his table is spread."  (Truman Madsen, "The Savior, The Sacrament, And Self-Worth")
 
(Happy Halloween, friends!  Sorry for the sober post on such a light hearted day!  We will be trick-or-treating with the best of them tonight and will try to document the festivities someday soon!  Hope you and yours have a happy time!)