Thursday, December 1, 2005
When You Have A Splendid Time In Europe
I am trying to figure out what to do with what just happened to me. You know, Europe and all. On the plane ride home I was reading about how Ammon's joy was so full (twice) that he momentarily lost his ability to function. Ah ha! That is how I felt every night before I went to bed in my 2000 thread count Egyptian sheets. I was so happy that something had to give inside of me. So I cried.
When you have a splendid time in Europe you stay at the nicest hotels. You eat fine chocolates left on your bed at night. You have views from your room that "inspire the human mind." You are with the most delightful niece who smiles, even in her sleep. You can't stop kissing her and telling her what a doll she is, you relish in the fact that people assume she is your daughter. You come to realization that you have the greatest brother-in-law. His kindness, excitement and charity humbles. He treats you like you live at Buckingham. You thank the Oracle Gods that Vance travels and you've got to got to Europe twice with him (Paris, Brussels, London). You get clever daily e-mails from your husband back home. You think about him all the time. You buy him little gifts everywhere you go. In short, you: eat fresh cooked Belgium waffles, visit the best chocolatiers, remember how a walk in Hyde Park makes you feel alert, eat at the loveliest restaurants, enjoy meeting new people and finally, finally discover a tube of Hob Nobs. But these are just a few.
To add to my joy, we spent the day with Lucy in Birmingham. The whole entire day. Two hours of that was sitting with her mission president and his wife, in his office talking of doctrine and the future of the church. We laughed a lot too. But over and over he said "Your sister is the best. She is brilliant..." Like Ammon, I was pleased to know that she had been strengthened in the Lord and she was happy. And she lives in a penthouse of sorts. Plush, plush, plush. So at the train station before we went back to London, I told her to "enjoy her vacation" because she has got it good. Also, to stay away from Hob Nobs (she told me my advice was too slow in coming).
So what to do with all this goodness? I have started with my husband. Every night before we go to bed from now until it runs out, we choose a piece of fine Belgium chocolate and talk about our day. One piece can last the whole conversation. I am thinking this is one way of landing softly, back into the day to day, the commitments of life. Knowing that for a couple of minutes of my day I will return to snowy days and tearful nights in Europe.