The Light I See

James and I drove home from John's funeral Monday night. As we were half way between Page and Kanab, we looked up into the sky and saw the moon directly in front of us shaped like the picture above (a thin waxing crescent). It made both James and I smile. I looked at James and asked why he was smiling and he said, "It looks like the moon is smiling down at us." Then he asked me why I was smiling. I told him that the moon looked like a representation of how I am feeling. The moon is as dark as it could almost possibly get, but there still seemed to shine a sliver of light that gives hope and reminds those who look, that the Sun has not abandoned us. Even though we can't see or feel all of it's light, we can be positive that it is still there, shining it's light onto the moon and reassuring us that eventually more light will come. I told James it reminded me of a quote that I heard and love by Joseph B. Wirthlin. This is the quote.

“I think of how dark that Friday was when Christ was lifted up on the cross. On that terrible Friday the earth shook and grew dark. Frightful storms lashed at the earth… On that Friday the Savior of mankind was humiliated and bruised, abused and reviled. It was a Friday filled with devastating, consuming sorrow that gnawed at the souls of those who loved and honored the Son of God. I think that of all the days since the beginning of this world’s history, that Friday was the darkest. But the doom of that day did not endure. The despair did not linger because on Sunday, the resurrected Lord burst the bonds of death. He ascended from the grave and appeared gloriously triumphant as the Savior of all mankind…Each of us will have our own Fridays—those days when the universe itself seems shattered and the shards of our world lie littered about us in pieces. We all will experience those broken times when it seems we can never be put together again. We will all have our Fridays. But I testify to you in the name of the One who conquered death—Sunday will come. In the darkness of our sorrow, Sunday will come. No matter our desperation, no matter our grief, Sunday will come. In this life or the next, Sunday will come."

-Joseph B. Wirthlin, “Sunday Will Come,” Ensign, Nov 2006, 28–30

Even during this difficult, dark time in my life, I still see light all around me. I see it in MaryKate's eyes everyday. I feel it throughout the day as James continually serves and comforts me. I see it in the kind friends, soldiers, neighbors, and family that came to John's funeral and not only offered hugs and prayers, but even opened their homes to us and invited us to stay while visiting from out of town. The Verizon store employee and the Southwest employee who helped my sister get a flight both shared with us a portion of their kindness and light. Yesterday at the daycare I work at, I challenged the little children to catch at least 3 bubbles in their hands. The proud look on each child's face as they presented me with 3 bubbles in their hands filled my heart with light for at least that brief moment. Even the beautiful mountains north of our apt and gorgeous warm sky in Phoenix shed their portion of light and beauty. I still cry everyday, often in the morning... but mostly at random times throughout the day. I cry not because I think that I'll never see John again, but because I miss and I grieve. But I am so thankful for all the kindness and light that I have received.

Here is our little ray of light. Isn't she so fun?!