Indeed, it is a stellar Easter morning. Blue skies as far as the eye can see and so much hope imbedded in that blue, you can scarcely stand to look anywhere else.
We had such a tender morning. Woke up and began the familiar routine of getting ready for church. Addy and I haven't been in a month now. It felt wonderful to have a reason to blow dry my hair and choose an outfit with intention instead of considering practicality. Oh Jane how wonderful it was to walk into church and see the faces of those I hold so dearly...of those who have held me so dearly. In so many ways it felt "normal" (whatever that means). So familiar....Like "comfort food" but, for my soul. It was a beautiful program...all music with a bit of "narration" punctuating throughout. There is something so nourishingly healing about music.There was one hauntingly lovely string of words that I am certain I have sung/heard hundreds of times in my lifetime and yet, it rose up to greet me today in such a powerful way. It's the last line of a hymn: "And try his works to do." I am certain when penning the hymn, the composer was referring to the Savior. Gently nudging and reminding us to "try" to emulate the Saviors life.And, yet, today I heard it with fresh ears. "And, Sara, try your best to do THIS work. This work that I have placed carefully before you." I struggle in general with the word "try" (well, at least I'm in good company with Yoda). I think, the word "try" stunts growth in a way. Maybe even stalls it. It holds hands with the word:stagnation. However, sitting there on that pew...what great comfort I found in the word "try." As if I was being given permission to simply do the very best I am capable of doing in any given instant. To allow myself to "try" to grasp an understanding of what the distortedscenery that has recently found its way to me might eventually gift me. And, for now, on this blue sky morning, there is great healing as I set about "trying this work to do."