Beauty for Ashes Part 1
A thought that kept coming to my mind in the ensuing days of my mom's death was, "beauty for ashes." It turns out it comes from Isaiah 61:3, "To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness." Those words, that reminder that the Lord will trade beauty for ashes, were my eye in the storm.
I noticed so many ashes around me at first, but I also quickly started taking note of the beauty. Don't get me wrong, at the end of the day I would rather bag up all of the beautiful things I've seen in the last three weeks and send them back to their source if it meant that Mom was gearing up for her next trip down to my house and that I was caught up in planning our annual Harry Potter birthday party without another care in the world. But what I will isn't what matters and so I'm embracing the beauty in His will. I listened to a talk from Evan A. Schmutz in which he said, "...we all must learn that suffering in and of itself does not teach or grant to us anything of lasting value unless we deliberately become involved in the process of learning from our afflictions through the exercise of faith."
On a similar note, Neal A. Maxwell said, "...Part of enduring well consists of being meek enough, amid our suffering, to learn from our relevant experiences. Rather than simply passing through these things, they must pass through us...in ways which sanctify [us]." Those words struck me when I heard them and I had to replay them several times to let them sink in. If this event doesn't pass through me in a way that purifies me, then all I'm left with is "mom's gone," and there is only emptiness there. I want this experience to have a purifying effect. I want to be more loving, less caught up in the thick of thin things, more empathetic, more determined, and the list goes on. It starts with taking note of the ashes already being traded out for beauty.
The Beauty of Service:
A very short time after my dad started making phone calls, love started pouring in and enveloping our family. We were carried through the experience by the service of others across the map. A close friend of my parent's showed up at my Dad's to see how he could help. He heart that I was figuring out how to get to Virginia that day and hopped on a computer to book me a round trip ticket. He and his wife effortlessly gave up frequent flyer miles so that they could provide a daughter who just lost a mother to get to the epicenter of the family grief. What an example.
Once I made up my mind to go to Virginia that day, Jayce supported me without hesitation or complaint and began orchestrating a way for him to take off of work. He dropped everything so that he could just be Dad for a few days, which is harder than it sounds. Jayce's peers, who hardly know me, made that possible by swiftly picking up his shifts. I was so grateful for the three days I spend in Virginia with Dad and my siblings. Several days to just be a daughter, it was priceless.
There was friend of Dad's who showed up at the door with nothing in hand and without seeming to have any sort of plan other than to say that he was sorry for Dad's loss, like he just had to come say it himself. A mom who had three kids go through Mom's class years ago showed up with one son and said, "We didn't know what else to do, so we brought waters," as her son walked right in with three cases of water and several cases of juice boxes. A sincerely heart felt voicemail from an old friend, watching a stranger outside come take care of my parent's yard, a note from a friend I grew up with that listed several random memories she had of Mom that made me crack up. The flood of calls and messages. There are so many moments that my family will treasure!
I do have to say more about my parent's ward. They were phenomenally helpful. I remember hearing someone once say that when you see someone drowning you don't ask them if they need help, you jump in and save them. That was what if felt like. They arranged for meals to come in, they put the funeral together, they pretty much held our hands throughout the week. Although I knew there was what seemed like an army behind them, there were two women who wore the face of the help and I can't thank them enough. They made it seem like they had no other plans that week and a half but to meet our needs and I know for a fact they both had plenty on their plates. I better know how to help others go through something like this because of their example.
The Beauty of Community:
It was beautiful to see the community come together for Mom's funeral. Saturday's are busy, summer is busy, but so many people carved out the time to come. I was in awe. The funeral was beautiful, nor because of us, but because of the love people demonstrated for Mom and my family. High school and college aged former students who wanted to personally tell us what fourth grade with Mrs. Terry meant to them, parents who tearfully told us how much they adored Mom, old friends who watched me grow up with came to show their love and support, watching through the window as the staff of Hillside Elementary collected in the parking lot so that they could come in together and share in the shock and grief of having lost a close colleague. There were so many sweet moments. Mom's heart would be so full. There is power and meaning in attending funerals and I know that now because I felt it.
I noticed so many ashes around me at first, but I also quickly started taking note of the beauty. Don't get me wrong, at the end of the day I would rather bag up all of the beautiful things I've seen in the last three weeks and send them back to their source if it meant that Mom was gearing up for her next trip down to my house and that I was caught up in planning our annual Harry Potter birthday party without another care in the world. But what I will isn't what matters and so I'm embracing the beauty in His will. I listened to a talk from Evan A. Schmutz in which he said, "...we all must learn that suffering in and of itself does not teach or grant to us anything of lasting value unless we deliberately become involved in the process of learning from our afflictions through the exercise of faith."
On a similar note, Neal A. Maxwell said, "...Part of enduring well consists of being meek enough, amid our suffering, to learn from our relevant experiences. Rather than simply passing through these things, they must pass through us...in ways which sanctify [us]." Those words struck me when I heard them and I had to replay them several times to let them sink in. If this event doesn't pass through me in a way that purifies me, then all I'm left with is "mom's gone," and there is only emptiness there. I want this experience to have a purifying effect. I want to be more loving, less caught up in the thick of thin things, more empathetic, more determined, and the list goes on. It starts with taking note of the ashes already being traded out for beauty.
The Beauty of Service:
A very short time after my dad started making phone calls, love started pouring in and enveloping our family. We were carried through the experience by the service of others across the map. A close friend of my parent's showed up at my Dad's to see how he could help. He heart that I was figuring out how to get to Virginia that day and hopped on a computer to book me a round trip ticket. He and his wife effortlessly gave up frequent flyer miles so that they could provide a daughter who just lost a mother to get to the epicenter of the family grief. What an example.
Once I made up my mind to go to Virginia that day, Jayce supported me without hesitation or complaint and began orchestrating a way for him to take off of work. He dropped everything so that he could just be Dad for a few days, which is harder than it sounds. Jayce's peers, who hardly know me, made that possible by swiftly picking up his shifts. I was so grateful for the three days I spend in Virginia with Dad and my siblings. Several days to just be a daughter, it was priceless.
There was friend of Dad's who showed up at the door with nothing in hand and without seeming to have any sort of plan other than to say that he was sorry for Dad's loss, like he just had to come say it himself. A mom who had three kids go through Mom's class years ago showed up with one son and said, "We didn't know what else to do, so we brought waters," as her son walked right in with three cases of water and several cases of juice boxes. A sincerely heart felt voicemail from an old friend, watching a stranger outside come take care of my parent's yard, a note from a friend I grew up with that listed several random memories she had of Mom that made me crack up. The flood of calls and messages. There are so many moments that my family will treasure!
I do have to say more about my parent's ward. They were phenomenally helpful. I remember hearing someone once say that when you see someone drowning you don't ask them if they need help, you jump in and save them. That was what if felt like. They arranged for meals to come in, they put the funeral together, they pretty much held our hands throughout the week. Although I knew there was what seemed like an army behind them, there were two women who wore the face of the help and I can't thank them enough. They made it seem like they had no other plans that week and a half but to meet our needs and I know for a fact they both had plenty on their plates. I better know how to help others go through something like this because of their example.
The Beauty of Community:
It was beautiful to see the community come together for Mom's funeral. Saturday's are busy, summer is busy, but so many people carved out the time to come. I was in awe. The funeral was beautiful, nor because of us, but because of the love people demonstrated for Mom and my family. High school and college aged former students who wanted to personally tell us what fourth grade with Mrs. Terry meant to them, parents who tearfully told us how much they adored Mom, old friends who watched me grow up with came to show their love and support, watching through the window as the staff of Hillside Elementary collected in the parking lot so that they could come in together and share in the shock and grief of having lost a close colleague. There were so many sweet moments. Mom's heart would be so full. There is power and meaning in attending funerals and I know that now because I felt it.
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