Rambling observations from my weekend.

This past Saturday, two young couples that I adore were sealed in marriage. I dearly wished that I could have been in two places at once so that I could have been witness to both of these ceremonies, but that was not possible. But as I sat in the sealing room, sending my love to Daniel and Samantha as I observed the sealing of Loni and Malcolm, I was filled with gratitude for the privilege if having people like Loni and Daniel and now Malcolm and Samantha in my life. And their families, how I love their families. Both of these young people went through struggles to get to that altar on Saturday. Some of these struggles were theirs alone and some of these struggles involved other members of their family. But not once in ANY of those struggles was there a moment when someone wasn't praying for those individuals and those families. A lot of somebodies, as a matter of fact. As I considered this, I was, not so gently, reminded that this is the case for me as well. I am in the midst of some struggles. But I truly do get stronger every day and I still find that I learn something new every day. As this reminder was handed to me a previous temple experience washed over me and I knew, I just knew, as I have known before, but seem to need constant reminding, that I am not alone. In that moment a haiku popped into my head (yes, the one I posted last night) and I was also reminded that I have talents and abilities that also ensure that I am not alone, that none of us are alone if we use those talents to benefit others and remind them that they are not alone and that they are loved. If we do this, we will be guaranteed to feel less alone. And I can even use my talents for myself to help me remember what is real.

I saw examples of this in abundance this past weekend. A whole lotta people sharing talents to make others feel important and cherished. When the three Boyd boys (shut up, they will always be boys) sang together the perfect lyrics that Brian wrote for Loni, there was a true sense of love and comradery that just flooded the room. I think that what I felt in that room at that moment is what the eternity that we all want will feel like. Rooms filled with people who are loving and laughing and joined through common bonds of experience and struggle and prayer and weeping and sacrifice and pain even anguish, but in the end, having pushed through, then there will be just peace and joy. Perhaps that is what someone who has been sent to help me at this time in my life meant when he told me to just be Cynthia and just be out there and be honest and real and allow others to share both my laughter and my pain. Perhaps this was due to the need for common bonds that will join me to others who will pray for me and mine and who do indeed understand and who will one day share laughter and joy with me in peace. I hope so because I am taking his advice.