Lights

This year I miss the Salt Lake City Temple Square light display. In our first couple years of marriage, Jeff and I tried to institute the tradition of hot chocolate at Borders and a trip to Temple Square some time during the holidays. More often than not it was freezing. Even though the cold froze part of my breath the remaining breath was always taken away by the thousands upon thousands of tiny white, yellow, and even red lights shining amongst the trees and strung artsily in perfect directions. It's as though the workers stringing lights worked with rulers and yard sticks so that not one light was out of place. What strikes me most is that one light by itself would not be so awe inspiring but when coupled together with thousands of its kind, the scene is nothing short of miraculous. Of course the obvious correlation is that the lights represent the light brought by the birth of Christ.

I see something else too.

Nicky starts primary in a few weeks. She isn't excited and secretly, neither am I. There is nothing about my kids growing up that really excites me because I know the end result is eventual total independence. I like them little and I like them with me. Luckily, I find somewhere inside me I'm selfless enough to put on a good show. I tell Nicky how exciting it is to grow up and now that she is getting bigger she's ready for the big kid primary. She gets to leave all the babies in the nursery.

"Will they have snacks?" is the big question.

I tell her we'll bring some of our own. I'm seriously hoping she doesn't share my hatred of sharing time. The whole scene of restless kids and strange singing posters with funny symbols to help remember songs always gave and gives anxiety. I'll probably get a calling in there soon so I can get over it.

For some reason today, life changes make me think of the lights at Temple Square.

I reflect on people who have helped usher me into changes. They are like little lights that shine in me. As with the lights on Temple Square, the friend or kind act that made a change easier would not be amazing by itself but when coupled with thousands of acts during thousands of big and small changes, my life's path glows with illuminated abundance. I remember the co-worker who gave me the Angel of Patience ornament when I was struggling with infertility. There was my second grade teacher, Mrs. Johnson, who helped me think of ways to make coming to school fun so I wouldn't cry every day. I had a Snow College roommate who used to cry with me in her room while we listened to sad music. It didn't matter what I needed to cry about, she'd cry with me. Yes, I cry a lot. There were the NICU nurses that cared for Andy when I could not but then gave me excellent instructions when I felt too scared to take him home. Millions of examples come to mind and I am filled with gratitude. Through every change I've been cradled by someone's goodness. Each year my internal Christmas light display grows brighter. I hope it is the same for Nicky.