We got back from our wonderful Granny's funeral at 11:30 last night; after the viewing, funeral, burial, the luncheon, visiting my fabulous brother Matt and his cute family and eating real life science ice cream, an hour in traffic in Utah county (as prophesied -- go ahead and take a bow, Matt), a stop at Reed's to get a fast order of fried mushrooms (my gallbladder hates me), and three more hours on the road. It was a long day.
But a great day.
The Double B comes from a very special line of women, of that there can be no doubt. I have loved his Grandma from the first moment I knew her -- she was a very special, very loving, very hilarious woman. It was the funniest funeral I have ever been to. His Mom was one of the speakers, and she did such a great job. At one point she told a funny story and Liv stood up in the congregation and said "You're silly, Grandma!" I felt so inspired. Grandma had so many qualities I would love to cultivate and develop. It is from her I truly learned that life is for the enjoying, and from her grandson that I truly learned that I am the captain of my own soul, the writer of my own destiny.
As I sat there on the pew, I felt thankful that my husband is part of her legacy of love. That my children are part of her legacy, too. And that I was just lucky enough to be grafted in.
Finally, something I have been thinking about:
On the way up to Granny Humphries funeral, the Double B and I got talking about the anger and misunderstanding involved in the recent debate (ongoing debate, really) about President Packer's conference talk. We talked about our feelings on the matter -- trying to articulate something so hard to put into words. We talked about turning our tents to the temple and the prophet, just as King Benjamin's people did. I sang a rousing rendition of the primary song that has been circling through my head "Follow the prophet -- DON'T GO ASTRAY!," and the Double B let me sing it. We wondered about how to teach our children and strengthen the youth. We went back and forth for some time, enjoying the friendship we are blessed with, and I was once again grateful for the complimentary qualities we have that while very different, could one day make us into a force for good.
We decided one thing: Even though some of our opinions differ on the particulars, we can rest easy knowing what the prophets and apostles know -- that the Lord loves everyone. "Jesus said love everyone, treat them kindly, too. When your heart is filled with love, others will love you." And as my wise husband pointed out, the Devil laughs when he can make us who know better become frustrated and angry and hurt, causing us to lash out and treat a child of God differently then He would have us treat them. He also laughs if he can get us to falter in our stance for truth and righteousness. Misunderstandings will happen. Truthfully, this is a firestorm I think all people who stand up for moral truths, no matter what religion, will face for the rest of our natural lives. And that's okay.
A memory came to my mind as we drove:
When I was a senior in high school, my speech and debate class (nerd alert!) had an exercise where you had to choose a wall on different issues and defend your stance. The walls read "Agree", "Strongly Agree", "Disagree", or "Strongly Disagree." In an act that to this day I believe was particularly designed just to see what I would do, my teacher wrote "Gay Marriage should be legalized" on the blackboard. I sighed. Not because I was afraid of what was coming, just because I knew it was coming. And then I did the only thing I could do: I walked to the "Strongly Disagree" wall. I watched a few kids go to the disagree wall, and two take a few steps towards me and then falter and slink back to the lesser, easier wall. I spent the next hour listening to tears, screams, accusations, name calling, and several insults to my personal character and values. But that's okay. That's not the point. I answered their questions as best I could, and then I took it. And it didn't hurt.
I was sorry they were hurt. But I wasn't sorry to do what I knew was right. Several students stormed out of the room, promising to let everyone know just what a bigot I was. And then class ended, and I walked to lunch. A dear gay friend came and put his arm around me and gave me a squeeze. I squeezed back. He knew where my heart was, and I knew where his was. My gay friends were still my gay friends. They still are my friends. And I am still their friend. We know that on this subject, we can just respectfully disagree. I know they are still amazing people. And they think I am alright, too.
I can stand up for what I believe is right.
And I can know, without a doubt, that the Lord looketh on the heart.
And that's where I want to look, too.
I loved these words, too: