Lenten Learnings and Easter Excitment

This journey of the last few days has been an interesting one and I find it even more intriguing that the unplanned Lenten gift, the one stumbled upon, has been the most significant.

I think I was right to cut back (mostly give up) TV and reading extra-scriptural things; I ended up spending a lot more time reading my scriptures and talking to God in the resulting quiet when the TV was not on to distract me while folding laundry or prepping dinner.

But my sugar fast has provided the biggest insights of all.

I fully admit to reverting to the mentality of a 3 year old and I struggled, like my daughter, to remember that Easter was about the atonement, crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus and not my finally getting to eat chocolate.

This last week was full of painful anticipation; I knew my days were numbered: one week, five days, tomorrow! And yet they were the longest days I endured during the whole period, to be so close and yet infinitely separated from something I adore. These feelings intensified my reading of the scriptures this week as the children and I rehearsed each day what Jesus was doing on that particular day. Every time I would get a pang for something sweet I would think: today Jesus was relaxing in Bethany; today He was administering the Last Supper and praying in Gethsemane; today - right now - He was hanging on the cross; today - right now - the world darkened. I thought it fitting that Good Friday here was rainy and dreary.

Saturday was busy and crazy running here and there with general activities and preparations for Easter with me not turning in for sleep until almost midnight. But the whole day I thought of Mary Magdalene and how she would have attended her worship services and spent the day in Sabbath activities, the whole while thinking of the body of Jesus and waiting, yearning for the moment she could tend to His body and render Him the final service she could give; I thought of all their sadness and the passing of my mother and how in the first few days of loss, sleep is almost impossible for the tears and weight of grief. Fittingly, then, I tossed and turned and got the worst night of sleep ever.

I woke up at 5am this morning giddy. The house was still. My children were sleeping. The sky was lightening. I walked out to the front room and saw my Easter box with my bags of hand picked, delectable, locally made and completely crave-able, even when I'm not fasting, chocolate and stumbled to the couch; I had already decided not to partake until I had read my scriptures. I laid down on the couch and went back to sleep, drifting in and out, for the next hour and half.

The rays of sun were beginning to peak out from behind the mountain when I finally decided that the sleep wasn't worth it and it was time to begin; I cracked my scriptures to John 20 and read, "The first day of the week cometh Mary Magdalene early, when it was yet dark. . . ." I thought of her waiting for the earliest moment when she could slip away and go to the tomb. I thought of her tired eyes as mine burned from lack of sleep, her anticipation, her grief and then her distress on finding the tomb empty. I thought of her elation on meeting the Savior and being with Him, hugging Him, loving Him that He was alive. I ate my first bite of chocolate and my mouth was filled with ecstasy as my heart was filled with joy at the story and reality of Jesus' resurrection and that He does still live, even now, ever watching over me, ever praying for me, ever listening to me.

In that moment, I understood the gift of Lent - that in some small way I could come not only to appreciate the sacrifices of Jesus and His pain more, but that I might understand the loss of His life, how those around Him grieved and what that means to me and the joy that He took it back up again and all the blessings that fall into my life because of His work.

What a gift! What a supernal joy!

I know that my Redeemer lives.

Happy Easter.

Christians and Mormons

I am wild about comparative religions; I wonder why people believe what they believe and exactly what they believe. I wonder, with the pattern finding craziness of a mathematician, how beliefs interconnect and how we are all alike more than dislike.

But, along with this study, come disturbing heart shrinking moments when the veil is lifted and you see what others, in their separate beliefs, think about you.

And it hurts.

No matter how many times I hear "speak the truth with love," I always return to what they really mean to say which is more along the lines of the words "cult," "not the REAL Jesus," and "you're not really saved and your mom's not really in heaven," and my heart gets crushed every time.  And I begin to wonder if any of us, with differing beliefs, can ever really be friends; how can someone be my friend when they think so little of me and the things that I hold the most precious to my heart?